RECENT ARTICLES

If you’d asked Joey Ryan and Kenneth Pattengale, co-founding members of the elegant acoustic duo, The Milk Carton Kids, in October, during the release of their latest LP, The Only Ones, if they’d like to participate in digital live stream concerts, they would have thumbed their noses. The duo is notoriously suspect of any performance that isn’t tactile, in the room. But things change. A pandemic has befallen the globe. Enter: the duo’s new online series, Sad Songs Comedy Hour, which features music from the band, guest appearances and charitable donations to organizations helping amidst the health crisis.

“For me, the most surprising thing about the show,” says Ryan, “has been just how meaningful doing a little 10-minute digital episode with our friends has become.”

Seattle-based country musician, Miller Campbell, has always been a go-getter. She performed musical theater as a child, has earned multiple college degrees, aspired to work for the U.S. State Department and was offered a job with the actual C.I.A., which she accepted. But it doesn’t end there. Campbell, who at one time had her jaw wired shut and was unable to speak for 18 months, learned during that time an acute appreciation for music. So much so that just two weeks before she was to travel overseas to Turkey to meet her future C.I.A. colleagues, she decided to turn down the position. Instead, she took aim at songwriting.

“I’d played a really fun open mic, which I know sounds silly in comparison,” says Campbell. “But I graduated from college when I was 21 and I thought, ‘I have my whole life to do this, I want to do music now.’ So, I turned it down.”

Ed O’Brien needed a new perspective. A co-founding member of one of the biggest bands in the galaxy – Radiohead – the multi-instrumentalist felt claustrophobic.

Living in London, O’Brien says it was as if he was constantly running on the “hamster wheel of life.” While not ignoring his professional good fortune, O’Brien says he was burnt out by the “constant stimulation.” So, he moved across the globe to rural Brazil with his family. There, he refocused his priorities on three things: food, family and music.

He taught himself to sing lead vocals. He made a record. He grew, dramatically.

“It was the classic cliché,” O’Brien says. “Why am I making my life more busy and complex by more stimulation? All I want to do is write, play music and be with my family when I’m not doing that. Realizing that was key for me. It was the moment I simplified my life and the music started to come through. It was like breathing again.”

It’s often said that the first thing someone puts their mind to as a child is the thing they really love, the thing they should be doing their whole life. If you’re inclined to agree with that thought, then it won’t surprise you that Alex Ebert, principal creative mind behind the well-known musical projects, Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes and Ima Robot, as well as his own solo work, recorded his first song at five-years-old. The artist, who released his latest solo LP, I vs. I, earlier this year, adored recording at a young age. And it’s a love affair that has continued through the decades – albeit, if not a little rocky at times.

“When I was about five,” Ebert says, “I had this little music class in kindergarten that ended up going all the way through 6th grade – that class actually was the model for Edward Sharpe. I remember my first recorder-thing. If I remember correctly, it had a little microphone. It was the only prize possession I’ve ever lamented losing.”

Katie Stelmanis, also known as the electronic musician, Austra, grew up playing the piano. She was obsessed from the start. She took lessons and played for hours, endlessly satisfied by the music. Soon, she fell in love with classical music, with its lush complexities and delightful compositions. But it was a rock concert years later in Calgary, Alberta that would change her life again. Stelmanis, who will release the latest Austra record, HiRUDiN, on May 1st, says that live events helped her see music in a new and affecting way. 

“One of the first shows I ever saw was this hardcore band from Calgary,” says Stelmanis, a native Toronto, Ontario. “One of my friends was dating one of the members so we went to the show. It was my first time seeing loud guitar music in a live setting. I was floored by the volume and the intensity and the power. It kind of changed me for life.”

For someone who has seen as much life and spent as much time behind the curtain of the music industry as grunge icon, Mark Lanegan, one might think there wouldn’t be a lot of new ground for the artist to explore. As has been detailed, Lanegan, who rose to fame with his band, Screaming Trees, in the mid-90s in Seattle, experienced drug addiction and the loss of prominent friends and collaborators. He’s also a platinum-selling front man. Yet, some 25 years since rising to notoriety, Lanegan continues to seek out new creative territory, as evidenced on his forthcoming record, Straight Songs Of Sorrow, set for release May 8 (pre-order it here).

“There are a lot of firsts on this new record,” Lanegan says. “My wife helped make some of it. I engineered quite a bit of it. This is also the first record in 35 years of making records where I actually played almost every instrument on some of the songs myself.”

Pacific Northwest singer-songwriter, Damien Jurado, has an extreme faith in that which is unseen. This ardent faith shows up in all the aspects of his life, whether personal, professional or creative. As a musician, Jurado, in many ways, is like a channel or faucet, he says. He opens himself up to language, music and thought and lyrics and melody spring forth like water. It’s the reason the artist has been so prolific in his decades-long long career, which continues with the release of Jurado’s latest LP, What’s New, Tomboy, set for release May 1st.

“I’m a very spiritual person,” Jurado says. “I’m very in tune with the spiritual side of my life. I have a pretty intense communion with God, I really do. You open up your mind’s eye or your heart’s eye and you just take it in. I believe that if you’re open to it, I believe God shows up in a great way.”

Known foremost for his booming voice as the frontman of Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats – whose thunderous song “S.O.B.” became a worldwide phenomenon in 2015 – Nathaniel Rateliff can also sing a little ditty. As the age-old American saying goes, Rateliff “contains multitudes.” In fact, as Rateliff puts it, he sees himself as multiple characters when he writes, a skill that affords him the opportunity to record a roaring chorus or a collection of enchantingly pretty songs, as he does on his latest solo release, And It’s Still Alright.

“I feel like these songs certainly come from a different place and wouldn’t make sense on a Night Sweats record,” Rateliff says. “The Night Sweats are fueled by this certain type of energy, a real physical energy. I want us to work hard on stage. But this new stuff is not coming from that place. It’s about subtlety and taking our time with the songs.”

Seattle-based reggae musician, Clinton Fearon, likes to think of himself as an “optipessimist,” meaning he both strives for positivity but doesn’t ignore the negative side of things. Fearon, who often wears a bright smile and sings with a rich vocal timbre, knows that life takes hard work to get through. From a young boy in Jamaica to moving to and navigating the Northwest, Fearon has thrived, above all else, because of his passion for music. And it’s this passion that he continues to subsist on during the global Coronavirus pandemic while brining his regular live-streamed shows to his tens of thousands of fans.

Fearon, whose next live-stream will air on his Facebook page Sunday at 10 a.m. PT, released his latest album, History Say, last year. The record, which features songs like the ponderous, “Technology,” and hip shaking, “Mr. Pretender,” also speaks truth to power. Fearon, who says he doesn’t consider himself a protest song singer, notes, however, that he always aims to tell the truth in his music. Indeed, he treats his art very honestly. Without that approach, the songwriter says, there would be no point to the hard work.

Nashville-based musician, Brendan Benson, wears a lot of hats. He’s a multi-instrumentalist. He’s a producer and engineer. He’s a husband and new father. He’s an integral member of the band, The Raconteurs, with rock legend, Jack White. And Benson is also a solo artist who, over the decades, has continued to grow and evolve as a songwriter. Benson’s latest LP, Dear Life (out April 24th on Third Man Records), is perhaps his most jubilant effort to date. Whereas Benson might have leaned into the darker side of a song’s subject matter in the past, with his new album, he’s infused a brighter side, operating with a more appreciative and open mind. 

For those on the outside, it might seem like the pinnacle of Chris Ballew’s creative life would be the fame he achieved as the front man for his alternative rock ‘n’ roll band, The Presidents Of The United States Of America. That group, perhaps most well known for the hits, “Peaches” and “Lump,” though, is not what Ballew himself considers to be his career achievement. Rather, he says, PUSA was merely part of an “arc” that eventually led him to his 2020 Grammy-nominated family music project, Caspar Babypants.