Shipe @ Art & The Vineyard (7/2)

It’s rare to play a full-length featured solo set on a big stage at a festival. 90 minutes is a long time to carry a show by yourself, but I love it. In the past, I would take on some accompaniment for a gig like that. (Jerry-Groove on upright acoustic bass or Ebbage on lead guitar. Or both.) But from here on out, 90 solo minutes on big stages is exactly what I want, as often as possible.

The hour-and-a-half went by in a snap, and I could have easily gone another half-hour. It might have been nature of the event. You know, wine & art in the park. And it might have been the home-town welcome. But the moment was surprisingly intimate — suitable for a singer/songwriter sitting on a chair, wearing a tie and a fedora, with a guitar, a ukulele, and a few stories to tell. It was just me hanging out with an audience sitting on blankets in the sun on a grassy field. Not much different from a wine-bar or coffee house gig.

My eyes were opened to the potential power of the solo set about 6 years ago, when I was booked as an opener for Jerry Joseph at John Henry’s in Eugene. Jerry was on a solo acoustic tour, without the Jackmormons. But I didn’t have a solo set worked up at the time, so I brought my band The Blue Rebekahs.

Conventional wisdom says that full bands play after acoustic acts. But conventional wisdom also says that John Shipe plays before Jerry Joseph. So I asked him: “Hey Jerry, is it all right that I brought my band?”

Jerry answered, “I ain’t afraid of no f–kin’ band.”

(Now, before you interpret this brusque response as rude, I should tell you that Jerry later invited me to sit in on his set. After I jammed on two songs, he said, “It sounds so good, why don’t you just stay up here and play the rest of the show.” Graciousness with fellow musicians can be one of Jerry’s golden features.)

In that moment, I vowed to also never be afraid of playing solo, in any environment, on any stage, on any bill. The trick is to make sure that your acoustic versions are not merely quieter versions. They are different; not less. You gotta lean into that difference. Sing along with the solo acoustic instrument that you’re playing in the moment, not the absent band in your head. Furthermore, as you embrace the intimacy, you’ll find it surprising just how aggressive, rockin’ and big you can get all by yourself. But it must make sense in sonic context. (I have discovered this in my acoustic version of Al Toribio’s “Letter Home.” In The Renegade Saints, this song is powerful, grandiose Southern rocker. By my lone acoustic self, I enter the song softly, relaxed. 3 minutes later, I find myself belting out the vocals and banging out the chords, but in an entirely “acoustic” way, earned through a gradual intimate trajectory.)

About that ukulele. I’m still working on it. I can’t keep it tune, my rhythms are plain, and I haven’t yet tapped into those wonderful uke-swinging 4-note chords that make it so special. But damn! It never fails to be a showstopper. One woman came up to me later: “When I heard that ukulele, I came running over to the stage to see what was going on.” So, no doubt I will be delving deeper into uke territory.

Blue Rebekah video gets posthumous shout out

This morning, it came to my attention that a folk DJ from El Paso (Dan Alloway, of KTEP Folk Fury) posted the “West of Eden” video from John Shipe & The Blue Rebekahs (circa 2005).

This does my heart good. I was in awe of that lineup’s imaginative proportions, and proud of that album’s creativity–knowing it had little commercial value.

It’s surprising that Dan chose this video. But I’m glad he did. While I’m an Americana artist, pushing an Americana CD, I have an alter-ego who grew up on the British Artrock of King Crimson, Yes, Jethro Tull, Pink Floyd, and Moody Blues. “West of Eden” is a dark, epic art-rocker about taking the difficult path in life. We placed it last on the album, destined to wallow in indie obscurity for an eternity.

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Shipe loves Spring Standards

I have a new favorite band. And that’s saying a lot, because I haven’t used the phrase “favorite band” since Portishead nearly a decade ago.

The Spring Standards got under my skin last night at splendid small venue in Ventura called Zoey’s Cafe. If I had a band for Yellow House , The Spring Standards would be the Yellow House players. A drumless trio, two dudes trading guitars and bass, and a woman on piano, xylophone and melodica. They all sing. And the lyrics they sing make your heart hurt.
Two slightly inaccurate samples from memory: “Say it/Say the words I see behind your eyes/If it’s not hard to say/then it’s a lie.”
And: “Bending backwards for you honey/I’ll be the one to hold your sad salt eyes/There’ll be nothing left of my honey/But it’s alright.
Yeah, I was moved. In fact I think I heard myself say, “That was the most moving set of music I’ve heard in years.” Read more »

Music’s Edge Rock Camp @ WOW

In mid-lockout session with Ebbage. He’s really cracking the whip. (Lead vocals completed for 4 songs in one day.) The early results suggest the best stuff I’ve ever done. Going into the second day with high hopes–gotta concentrate and be careful to keep the eye on the ball (As Ebbage says.)

But now I’m taking some time with my morning coffee at Muse in Seattle to think and talk about the second 2010 installment Music’s Edge Camp, at which I’ll be teaching all next week. (Monday the 7th through Friday the 13th.) This is the 3rd year for me. And each time it is an exhausting, rewarding and uplifting experience that I look forward to all year.

It’s directed by Tim McLaughlin. (One of my bandmates in The Blue Rebekahs.) It’s happening at WOW Hall. There’s still time to register, if you’re a kid in the Eugene, OR area between the ages of 10 & 17.

The other instructors are Zak Johnson and Ehren Ebbage.

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Shipe & Ebbage at Eichardt’s

By day, Eichardt’s is a fine restaurant, with a quiet clientele that makes you think you’ll be playing soft folk ballads for calm people. (Not a bad prospect, for this tour is much about introducing Ehren’s album, with all its sweet music, to the music fans of the North Idaho corridor.) But, at night, by the time you get sound checked and ready to play, Eichardt’s turns into a bar. There were quite a few noisy people who were unsusceptible to our finesse, intricate composition, and emotional crooning. We were pulling out our rockers quite a bit more than we thought. A woman from the audience actually came up to us and asked us to turn up, furtively pointing to the noisy fellows at the bar.
Anytime we’re asked to turn up, that’s a good thing, and we’re happy to oblige.
Strangely, though, as raucous as some of the audience seemed to be, we were complimented on our lyrics of all things. All night, they kept coming up to us: “Which one of you writes your lyrics?” (So they were listening after all, even those guys with their backs to us, who at one point seemed even to be heckling us.)
Incidently, we both write the lyrics. If E-dog is singing, he wrote it. If I’m singing, I wrote it. Unless it’s a Jerry Joseph song, or a Mark Alan song.
At last I’m getting inside the lap steel on Ebbage’s tunes. Fewer mistakes and juicier melodies. This is important, ’cause there is something about that instrument that turns an ear with just one note. I can see why Ehren tries to play with pedal steel players at nearly every gig. You don’t have to do much with it; just fade in a sweet chord tone at the right time, give it a little vibrato, and make it sing.

Shipe & Ebbage at Moon Time

Ah, much better. Even though we were incredibly underslept from the late night before at John’s Alley, Ehren & and I pulled out the energy for Moon Time in Coeur D’Alene. I am reminded of one the magic secret ingredients of live music–Volume!

The P.A. system we carry around has no monitors. But the Moon Time has a flat wall behind the bar, pretty close to us in front of the stage. So we crank that system up, hacking away at our rocker tunes, like “Road Story,” “I’m not Sorry,” and Jerry Joseph’s “World Will Turn.” Andthe sound bounces back at us, guitars and voices blended in a beautiful swirly wash. (Oh, those poor bar tenders!)

Funny, the Moon Time is a small intimate place, with all the makings of quiet acoustic venue. (While John’s Alley is a big ole wood & concrete tavern suitable for kicking ass.) But Moon Time is a talkative audience on Thursday–Dollar Microbrew Pint Night. This puts us acoustic folkie-singer-songwriter-troubadors in a potentially awkward postition, especially with Ebbage’s high ballad-to-rocker ratio. (All those sweet love songs.) But you have to trust that the crowd is listening and appreciating in their dollar-pint-night way. They don’t play the role of “audience” exactly, but you must play your set with assurance and authority nonetheless. They know when they’re hearing something of quality, even though they don’t sit with eyes glued to the stage, hanging on your every word of song-introduction. In this kind of atmosphere, you don’t waste time between songs. Keep it moving, and take advantage of those moments in the night when they do seem to want a bit of stage talk.

They never fail to show their appreciation. Always chatting us up between sets and after the show, buying CD’s and getting on the mailing list.

And thank god I finally bot my lap steel act together, making myself more welcome on those lovely Ebbage tunes.

Shipe & Ebbage at John’s Alley

The first gig down, four to go. John’s Alley is usually the first gig on these short Northern Idaho tours, starting me off with an 8 hour drive right off the but. Plus, it’s a long gig–9:30 to two a.m. With Ebbage, I thought it would be only half as exhausting. But, no, the John’s Alley gig still kicks my ass. Vertical Dave, as usual, does us right from the crow’s nest, with one of the best sound systems for any tavern gig I play. And he always burns a CD of the show.

I would have liked to play better, I was a bit uneven on lap steel, making a bloody mess of Ebbage’s sweet songs. I’ve got four gigs to fix that, and I’m better rested for tonight’s gig at Moontime in Coeur D’Alene.

Alley folks were kind to us as usual. Buying CD’s and chatting us up and down about our solid music–even though we were a little off this time. (It wasn’t quite the zone we were in when we played Ashland last time… when I ended up hospitalized for a supposed kidney stone… which I still have… even though it’s not a kidney stone…It’s a herniated disc, which I still have…. which makes it scary to drive 8 hours and then sing & play for 4 hours… songs like “Crawlspace” and “Imitation Man” especially… But I’m okay, I think.) We must have come along way since 1997, because even though we felt “off,” we still managed to sell some CD’s.

Towards the end of the night, when we were really starting to fade, a fellow came up to us, named Matt and said: “Hey guys, it’s getting late, and no one’s really listening, you want some sax?” (Hmm, it sounds rude when I write it here, but it wasn’t rude the way he said it.) Although I was just about tapped out and ready to call it a night, I wanted to hear what he would sound like with us. (He’s part of a band with Bennet the accordion player from Ala Zingara, so he had some automatic credibility there.) He warmed up on recorder as I played Green Day’s “Good Riddance.” Next, I challenged him with Bossa Nova “Just in Time.” Sounded great, so we finished off with “Don’t Pass Montgomery By.” Nice.