Jackopierce stirs up emotions
(June 16, 1994)
"Jacob," a somber tale of young angst and the pain of divorce, took Cary Pierce only 30 minutes to write. One-half of the Dallas guitar duo Jackopierce, Pierce says he gets a little weepy whenever he and partner Jack O'Neill perform the track off their T Bone Burnett-produced debut album, "Bringing On the Weather" (A&M).
He's not alone.
"Musician magazine, in their review of the album, said on the first line, 'When was the last time a song made you cry?'," Pierce said recently. "The guy who wrote it was talking about how embarrassed he was about crying. The song kinda gets me too from time to time."
Pierce and O'Neill met while attending Southern Methodist University on theater scholarships and teamed because "we saw other people doing the acoustic thing and we thought, 'wouldn't that be cool to just play songs, make some money, get free beer and meet girls,' " Pierce said.
As the pair's popularity grew around Dallas and the region, they developed a strategy to get the word out about tour dates. They started a mailing list, taking down phone numbers and calling anyone who would listen. The list has swelled to 10,000; they regularly play to 3,000 in clubs, and attract 300 at in-store events.
"We hit 'em really hard, really fast, really quick. We go into the town and kill it," Pierce said of their guerrilla-style tactic. "We'll play on the streets, hand out fliers, talk to the press, doing whatever we can to get them to the show. And it's now starting to pay off."
BWF (before we forget): Jackopierce disbanded in late 1997.
As luck would have it for Sherri Jackson
(Nov. 13, 1997)
Sherri Jackson feels equally lucky and blessed.
Even after a spot on the Furthur Festival, along with Bruce Hornsby, the Black Crowes and the Grateful Dead's Bob Weir and Mickey Hart, the Denver-based multitalented singer-songwriter is taking nothing for granted.
"Sometimes I question what made my life turn on this adventure," she said recently. "Was it the right thing? Is it too late to go back and apply for graduate school? I never dreamed about being a singer; it would be different if I was saying all the time 'I want to be a star.' I never thought about it. I thought I was going to be a stockbroker or something."
Instead, her 1995 independent CD, "Moments of Denial," caught the attention of fledgling Hybrid Recordings. Favorable reviews of her self-titled Hybrid debut, produced by Los Lobos' Steve Berlin, led to the Furthur Festival and now a national tour opening for John Hiatt.
Among other things, the album displays Jackson's varied musical tastes. She dabbles in pop, blues, funk and ska; vocally, she resembles a combination of Erykah Badu and Sheryl Crow, and she also plays guitar and violin.
"The violin was the instrument that was given to me when I was in elementary school," Jackson said. "I wanted to play flute, but I didn't get it. I ended up just keeping the violin. There was enough spark in the orchestra that I actually enjoyed it."
Jackson feels most comfortable in front of an audience. That's where she gets her reminder that she made the right choice.
"So many weird things have happened," Jackson said of her good fortune, "so I guess I'm waiting for the bubble to pop. But it hasn't happened yet, so I must be doing something right."
BWF (before we forget): Visit Jackson on the Web @ www.sherrijackson.com.
Jimmy James: A dance music star is born
(Feb. 19, 1998)
Beneath Jimmy James' wigs, caked-on makeup and fake breasts and his on-target impersonations of Marilyn Monroe, Cher, Karen Carpenter and Patsy Cline, there was a dance music artist aching to be set free.
On Jan. 27, Interhit Records released James' debut single, the contagious "Who Wants to Be Your Lover," produced by the red-hot Berman Brothers (Amber, Real McCoy, She Moves). Before long, the provocative accompanying video, involving twentysomethings playing a board game called "Mystery Lover," should pop up on MTV, VH1 and The Box.
Life may be a cabaret, old chum, but for James, it was just one step toward his lifelong dream.
"I've had this passion for years," James said recently, "but I was so stuck with the Marilyn thing that I kept getting gigs, and I couldn't turn them down. There were lots of gigs to be done and I had people to pay. Suddenly, I had this little industry going with me dependent on being Marilyn and all the voices.
"I was very good at it, but deep inside ... I always played dance clubs, because I didn't like the cabaret world. I loved going to the dance clubs, doing my show, so I treated myself like I was a dance artist even before I had a record. After my shows, I would always go to the DJ booth and get to know the DJs and ask them lots of questions, like who they know is good in the business."
A native of San Antonio, Texas, James moved four years ago to New York, where he honed his female impersonations and gained national and international exposure. On the side, he made a few demos. Nothing substantial, he said.
"Then I finally met someone at Warner/Chappell publishing," James said. "He literally took me by the hand and led to the right producers, which were the Berman Brothers. We located a song, and I had a lot of fun doing it and was blown away by the production. I wanted not only an underground dance thing, but I wanted it to be radio dance ready, and the Berman Brothers know exactly how to do that. I was very lucky."
James glows when recounting the reaction he got from Warner/Chappell representatives when he performed "It's Morning Again," a song he wrote for a future album.
"It's an amazing song," James said. "I closed my eyes and sang the song in one take and it was written. I never wrote down the words. They laid down some music for me and then I said, 'Just let me get out there, and I don't know what's going to come out, but there's something I want to say.' I was going through some heavy shit that summer.
"They freaked out over it at Warner/Chappell. I'm hoping that Giorgio Moroder will want to produce it."
BWF (before we forget): For more on Jimmy James, stop by www.interhit.com.
The Januaries march to their own beat
(Oct. 22, 2000)
To know of Debbie Diamond's eclectic upbringing is to understand where her band, The Januaries, is coming from musically.
The groovy '60s-styled singer-guitarist grew up in Los Angeles with her brother and Danish-born parents. In her wild youth, she hung around backstage at rock concerts, more out of the desire to be in a band than to be a groupie.
"When you grow up in a family with foreign parents, you can get away with murder," Diamond said recently. "They just don't know what they're doing. There's no curfew. My parents didn't even know what 'grounded' meant. They're like, 'Why don't you call Joanne and hang out with her?' 'She's grounded.' 'Grounded, what's that?' 'Uh, you know, she just doesn't feel like going out - you know, grounded.' I had never been grounded.
"The one time they said 'Go to your room and come out when you think you can behave,' I did the old walk-in, walk-out, and my dad had a good sense of humor, he started laughing."
Try as they might, her parents couldn't alter Diamond's rock 'n' roll destiny.
"My parents gave me piano lessons, ballet and tennis and wanted to make me into this little lady," she said, "and then I turned out to be a punk rocker and I got voted weirdest in high school. My parents were like, 'What happened?!' I'm half-Jew and half-Dane, and Danish people are weird and Jewish people are artsy, so what do you expect?"
Like Diamond's diverse (and comical) background, The Januaries' self-titled debut Foodchain/Lightyear album - released Sept. 12 - is full of pure-pop sass and unpretentiousness. Critics have had a field day trying to describe them, likening them to a cross between Brigette Bardot and the Doors or Herb Alpert & the Tijuana Brass and Garbage.
Vocally, Diamond resembles a mixture of Deborah Harry, Chrissie Hynde and the Cocteau Twins' Elizabeth Fraser. Her years fronting the indie group Giant Pink Fuzz and a stint with England's Duritti Column did wonders.
"We didn't want to sound like anybody else," Diamond said, "but it's also scared a lot of people because it's different. A lot of the record companies we met with really liked it, but they were freaked out because it was different. They were like, 'It's really good.' 'Yeah?' 'But I have to say it's different.' I said, 'Well, you know what? If I were Perry Farrell and sitting here with the first Jane's Addiction demos, you'd tell me to get the fuck out of the office.' "
Diamond credits an A&R rep at Foodchain for hooking her up with guitarist Rick Boston, formerly of Low Pop Suicide.
"He used to see my old band, Pink Fuzz," she said, "and he really liked the way I wrote. I was signed to Giant; when we broke up, he said, 'I'm getting an A&R job with this label and I'm going to sign you.' I said, 'Good luck, because I'm moving to New York. I'm going to try my fortunes there.' He hired me as a scout so he could keep tabs on me.
"When I came home for Christmas from New York, he said, 'Hey, go over to this studio at this guy Rick Boston's house.' Then we wrote 'The Girl's Insane.' I had been into this whole '60s thing from living in New York; I was into the go-go clubs, so we decided to write a 'Girl From Ipanema'-type song, a song Stan Getz would do - only now. We were like, 'Whoa, our song came out pretty good; we wrote pretty good together.' Then we wrote a couple that weren't on the album and then 'All Systems a Go-Go.' "
Keyboardist John Nau, trumpeter Mitch Maker, drummer Petur Smith and bassist Tobias Kroon round out the lineup.
"We named the band the Januaries because January evokes this mood, at least with me, of the new year being here and you're going to have a brand new start but you still have all the crap attached to you," Diamond said. "Just because you switched years doesn't mean it's not there anymore.
"I wanted it to be a hopeful record, rather than a record about some woman who's been dumped by some guy and she's out for revenge. PJ Harvey might go that route. I didn't want to go that way; I wanted to make a record that was fun but still made you think. If you really pay attention to the lyrics, there's meaning to them. I had one interviewer say that my songs were shallow, and I said, 'A simple mind will take it a simple way.' I just wanted to have my own style."
Diamond says The Januaries are an underdog band, without a big-money label behind it. But she's buoyed by fan reaction to their live shows and a recent nomination for best indie album by New Times magazine in Los Angeles.
One battle she wishes she didn't have to fight is for her name. She's often confused for a porn star named Debi Diamond.
"I've worked my whole life," she said. "I played with the Duritti Column on Factory Records. I've had record deals, I've done all this stuff, and because there's a porn star with the same name, I have to get slammed and I've never been photographed naked. She stole the name from me.
"My name was in little tabloids in L.A., and she saw it. I used to spell it Debi, and now she spells it like that. She stole my name; I should've gone after her, but I just don't sue people. It's just stupid. I knew there would be some backlash, but I just figured my band would do well and people would forget the porn star and know me.
"Do you think I should change my name, or is it too late?"
THE FIRST RECORD I EVER BOUGHT: "I bought two at one time at a garage up the street from our house - 'A Hard Day's Night' and the 'Hair' soundtrack. By then, I already knew I wanted to be in music; I knew ever since my parents put a big mirror in the closet in my room. I would stand in front of it and pretend to be Jim Morrison."
THE FIRST CONCERT I EVER WENT TO: "I think it was Devo. Believe it or not, I saw them play at this house party when I was really young. This guy Andy Hewett's house; he used to book the Palladium. I don't know how, but when I was younger, I used to know everybody. Nobody tried to pick up on me and my friends because we were really young, but they thought we were so cute, they'd give us backstage passes. I had backstage passes to Devo; we were running around the Forum. Then Andy invited us to his party, it was New Year's Eve. I was standing there watching Devo, and Danny Bonaduce from 'The Partridge Family' was standing next to me and it was getting near midnight and I could see him eyeballing me. I'm like, 'Sorry, gotta go.' I hadn't even kissed a boy at that point, and there was no way I was going to kiss Danny Bonaduce."
THE LAST CD I BOUGHT: " 'The Best of Cream' and The Dandy Warhols' new album. I've been plugging that one a lot."
BWF (before we forget): Stay up to date on The Januaries on the Web @ www.thejanuaries.com.
Jawbox sends one out 'For Your Own Special Sweetheart'
(Feb. 17, 1994)
First impressions can be tricky.
Listening to boombastic Washington, D.C., rockers Jawbox is like meeting someone for the first time and coming away thinking, "Geez, what a gruff person."
Their post-punk sound is rough, raw and aggressive. Crashing guitars and driving rhythms. A near-sensory overload.
But after getting to know the gruff one, you find a heart of gold down deep. In Jawbox's case, that would be a melodic touch and enigmatic lyrics.
"I think we love ambiguity," singer-guitarist J. Robbins said during a recent stop in the quartet's U.S. tour, promoting its debut Atlantic album "For Your Own Special Sweetheart."
"We like the idea of having words ricocheting off each other and seeing what people come up with," he said. "If they're lyrics I've written, I can trace them back to a source. Usually it's something I'm confused about, something I can't actually quite own up to rationally or look square in the face."
The opening track, "ff=66," alone is shrouded in mystery. "ff=66 explains you're sick/ spins on the axis of promise/ and lick lack luck reveals all tricks."
Huh?
Formed in 1989 by Robbins and bassist Kim Coletta (and now including guitarist Bill Barbot and drummer Zachary Barocas), Jawbox has moved out from behind the shadow of hometown favorites Fugazi and offered its own unique twist to the world and the human condition.
Jawbox's influences are too great to measure, Robbins said.
"I know why I wanted to be in a band and a lot of it has to do with being inspired by my friends, people I knew when I was a teenager and in my early 20s. They all played music," he said.
"Even now, the most inspirational music to me is made by people I know. In terms of any one specific thing, I think there are about 18 billion influences working among us all and everybody brings different things into the band."
If anything, being in a punk band brought out a new Robbins.
"I was confused as a teenager. I didn't like anybody. I used to hate rock 'n' roll, I only liked classical music. But then friends of mine at art school got me into punk. I found that it was totally self-validating. And I think that's what we're doing too."
The green 'Green Grass' home of the Jayhawks
(March 9, 1995)
In a perfect world, the Jayhawks' mournfully melodic "Blue" would be a hit. A big hit.
Guitarist Gary Louris, who penned the song with singer Mark Olson, isn't foolish enough to make a prediction. Besides, like his fellow band members, he's his own worst critic.
"I just don't know if we're ever going to be able to write a better song than that," Louris said recently during a stop on the Minneapolis-based country-rock quintet's mini-tour, weeks before hooking up with Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers.
"I don't know if our records are always going to sound this successful," Louris said of their second American Recordings album, "Tomorrow the Green Grass," which is deeply rooted in rich harmonies and pop-folk charm. "They're unabashed pop songs, and I'm not apologetic about it at all. We like good pop songs, as long as they're not too light."
Louris sees almost a light-year's difference between "Green Grass" and the Jayhawks' rootsy big-label debut, "Hollywood Town Hall" (1992). Despite its nearly universal appeal, "Hollywood Town Hall" wasn't exactly what the group had in mind.
"Artists aren't always their own best judges," Louris said, "but knowing what we went through on it and what we wanted and what happened, we felt like we could do better. And we think we have on 'Green Grass.' "
"Hollywood Town Hall" was "fraught with problems," he said. The band was suffering from major-label jitters; their drummer had to be canned because he wasn't cutting it, and their engineer also was fired.
"Don't get me wrong, I think 'Hollywood Town Hall' is a really good record," Louris said, "but we were a little uptight. We weren't really able to explore as much as we wanted, like different setups in songs, different interpretations. We just went for one sound, which might make for a decent record, but it's also a nearsighted view of the whole Jayhawks sound.
"I think you haven't seen everything of what we want to do. After we make 15 records or something, maybe you can look back and put them all together and see what we were really all about."
The Jayhawks almost didn't make it this far. After years of toiling on the club circuit in the '80s, a few independent releases and personnel changes, the band seemed destined to go no further. Worst still, Louris nearly died in an auto accident in October 1988.
"I broke my pelvis, I lost my spleen and appendix. I bruised my heart and had liquid on my lungs, bruised ribs, all kinds of things," he said. "I was just broadsided by a car when I was driving one afternoon."
His rehabilitation, coupled with a new romance, prompted Louris to quit.
"I was out of the band for about four or five months before I realized I was driving my girlfriend and myself crazy," he said. "I used to sneak into their shows in disguises and watch them play, because they had continued with another guitar player.
"But they missed me. They needed me, and they asked me individually to come back, and I was certainly ready to come back. And I haven't looked back since."
BWF (before we forget): The Jayhawks, sans Olson, reappeared in 1997 with the "Sound of Lies" album. ... See the supergroup Golden Smog for a Jayhawks-related feature. ... Check them out on the Web @ www.american.recordings.com.
Jethro Tull's Ian Anderson branches out
(Sept. 21, 1995)
Ian Anderson needs to improve his flute-playing like Kelsey Grammer needs to sharpen his comic wit.
But the venerable leader of rock's legendary Jethro Tull says that's exactly what he felt he had to do a few years ago and on up to this week's release of the group's 28th album, "Roots to Branches" (Chrysalis/EMI).
Still, it's an odd thing to hear from a man whose musicianship is the hallmark of a group's sound.
"I got back into playing the flute seriously a couple years back when I decided I would really try to learn to play better," Anderson said in a recent phone interview from his English home, "and that continued with the solo project earlier this year called 'Divinities' and through to the new Jethro Tull album.
"The two projects were quite intertwined. In fact, there are a couple of pieces from the Jethro Tull album that were actually outlined in a basic demo before I even started working on the 'Divinities' project, so it's all sort of contemporary, all part of that time of 12 months that stuff was coming from the same musical sources and musical interests."
In turn, that revitalized his flute-playing.
"I quite enjoyed playing the flute on the Jethro Tull album, feeling that it was a much more integral part of the music than it usually is," Anderson said. "I usually feel that I'm putting it in because people expect to hear it, and secondly, it's sort of a decorative function. It's usually the last thing to go on the record.
"On this album, a lot of the flute was music that was very fundamental to the way the music was written and arranged."
The result - like it or not for some Tull fans - is one of the group's most focused albums, brimming with songs of considerable depth. One track in particular, "Valley," is a gentle but insistent passage about intolerance, leading one to believe it's an anti-war song aimed at Bosnia.
"I guess it is," Anderson said, "but it also could be a song about Northern Ireland or about city streets or be anything where you have people intolerant of their neighbors and jealous and suspicious, feeling that they impede each other through their proximity in some way.
"It's a song about intolerance and trying to point out to people that we don't always get along with our neighbors, but there's so much unnecessary aggravation for a lack of willingness to understand and to sympathize and to respect. That's probably the most important word of all: respect. You should respect people who may have a different set of beliefs."
"Roots to Branches" entered the British chart last week at a very respectable No. 20. Anderson couldn't be happier.
"It's not going to be a monster hit album," he said, "and it's not going to be everybody's cup of tea, but I think among Jethro Tull fans it has signs of being generally approved of and seen by people as one of our better rather than one of our worst yet.
"After 27 years, I'll settle for that."
BWF (before we forget): The Jethro Tull album discography - "This Was" (Reprise, 1969); "Stand Up" (1969); "Benefit" (1970); "Aqualung" (1971); "Thick As a Brick" (1972); "Living in the Past" (Chrysalis, 1972); "A Passion Play" (1973); "War Child" (1974); "Minstrel in the Gallery" (1975); "M.U. - The Best of Jethro Tull" (1976); "Too Old to Rock 'n' Roll: Too Young to Die!" (1976); "Songs From the Wood" (1977); "Repeat - The Best of Jethro Tull, Vol. II" (1977); "Heavy Horses" (1978); "Live - Bursting Out" (1978); "Stormwatch" (1979); " A " (1980); "The Broadsword and the Beast " (1982); "Under Wraps" (1984); "Original Masters" (1985); "Crest of a Knave" (1987); "20 Years of Jethro Tull" (1988); "Rock Island" (1989); "Catfish Rising" (1991); "A Little Light Music" (1992); "20th Anniversary Box Set" (1993); "Night Cap" (1994); "Roots to Branches" (1995).
Jimmy Eat World sees things clearly
(March 7, 1999)
With record companies merging, cutting rosters and shutting down, Jimmy Eat World is counting every blessing it's still signed to Capitol.
Zach Lind, drummer for the Tempe, Ariz.-based rock quartet, hopes their second album, "Clarity" (out Feb. 23), and the catchy single "Lucky Denver Mint," will help brighten the future for himself, singer-guitarist Jim Adkins, bassist Rick Burch and guitarist Tom Linton.
"There's a lot of crazy stuff going on in the major-label music industry," Lind said recently. "We have friends on major labels and they're really worried. We were at the point where if Capitol was going to drop us - we weren't getting any attention or publicity - they probably would've already done it by now.
"They've always been nice to us. They gave us a van. As far as promotion, we were at the bottom of the barrel, and we understood that, but if they did want to drop us, we wouldn't have been heartbroken. It could've been a positive thing. They wouldn't let us go and we signed to do 'Clarity.' We finished it and now it's getting some airplay on KROQ (in Los Angeles), and now we are starting to become a priority. It's nice to see."
"Clarity" is tailor-made for modern rock radio, but it has a broad enough sound to suit pop and rock fans.
"It's a power-pop record," Lind said, "but it doesn't fit into any certain genre. Maybe people'll call it alternative or whatever, but there's a lot of different kinds of songs."
One of Lind's favorites is the opening track, "Table For Glasses." He was like a kid in a candy store, having a variety of instruments at his disposal. "There's a lot of stuff on there," he said. "There's a concert bass drum, bells, vibes, chimes, cymbals, and I overdubbed some brushes going back and forth on a snare. And we actually put a cello on there. We rented all the percussion stuff for a day and basically crammed every idea we could and put it on tape. That was a real fun song to track, because I got to do so many different things."
The most pointed song is "Your New Aesthetic," on which Adkins lashes out at radio and record companies for not listening to what the public wants. "Imitate and water down," he sings, "until we crash I'll write it out: Selection breathes on its own, make them open the request line and let selection kill the old." Then he suggests, "Turn off your radio."
"That song comes out more out of Jim's frustration with the music industry," Lind said. "It's the first time I've heard Jim write lyrics that are specifically saying something to somebody. Usually, Jim writes lyrics that are more images, almost like poetry. A couple of songs on the record, you can really tell what he's trying to get at. He has a purpose.
"We don't listen to the radio, and that comes from us being involved in music. We're around it all the time, we're on tour and constantly hearing new bands. We get a chance to see and hear bands that are like normal people with day-to-day jobs or go to school, artists people should know about. I mean, why Elliott Smith isn't selling millions and millions of records, I have no idea. That record is brilliant. I don't understand what makes Creed so big and Elliott Smith isn't?"
Album sales and airplay may determine Jimmy Eat World's big-label fate, but Lind said they are proud of "Clarity."
"We felt like we succeeded when we walked out of the studio," he said. "We felt we had tried our hardest and made the best record we could possibly make at this point in our careers. Whatever happens, happens, it's out of our hands. The only thing we can control is making the best record possible."
THE FIRST RECORD I EVER BOUGHT: "Stryper's 'To Hell With the Devil.' I was brought up in a very conservative Baptist home, and basically if I was going to buy something, it had to do with God, so I purposely pissed off my parents and went out and got the worst possible Christian heavy-metal band."
THE FIRST CONCERT I EVER WENT TO: "Night Ranger and The Outfield. I still, to this day, love The Outfield. I'm not into Night Ranger at all, but I went to that show because The Outfield was opening. We got a chance to work with a guy named John Agnello, he (mixed) The Outfield records and did the last Jawbox record. We were on a Duran Duran tribute album, and he produced our cover of 'New Religion.' "
BWF (before we forget): Savor Jimmy Eat World on the Web @ www.jimmyeatworld.net.