Shipe in Phoenix @ Turf Pub – SW Tour Day 5

This being my first Southwest tour, I’m not expecting huge turnouts at my regular venue gigs. So, I thank my Mayday Pit Bull Rescue friends for adding up to at nearly half the attendance last night at Turf Irish Pub. In gratitude, I gave them my best musical effort. And I left out most of the canine-oriented songs, which they had heard the day before anyway.

A note about how I got this gig. The owner of The Turf — Andy — is fan of my old band The Renegade Saints, and a good friend of my longtime bass player Jerry-Groove Abelin. Andy was there when Jerry introduced himself to me over a decade ago, having heard that I was looking for a bassist. (The particular Saints’ tune that Andy is a fan of is “Know By Now.” What a softie, huh!)

So, like I said, attendance was sparse. (Let’s blame it on Halloween weekend.) That was expected, so I appreciate the booking.. I wanna come back and fill the place.

I had a nice moment with a new fan. Shortly before I went on, I was explaining to Richard (of Richard & Kyleigh the homestays/auto repair shuttle) that I rarely play “Sun Dog Ranch Road,” because I have trouble with the fingerpicking. I wrote that song — and many others like it — with musical hooks meant to be played by other instruments. When performing solo, it can be difficult to suggest those hooks with complex “right hand” work, while holding down chords and basslines. (Not to mention singing along with such guitar work.) At the end of the night, a fellow came up to me and said, “Man, you have the greatest right hand!”

Yes! Hard work and concentration pay off.

Shipe @ John’s Alley in Moscow, ID (8/3)

My old band, The Renegade Saints, continues to make new fans in Moscow, ID without even coming around to play shows. That’s because John’s Alley keeps Fear of the Sky in the jukebox.

The Saints first came here back in the 90′s when it was just a tiny hole-in-the-wall with 8-foot ceilings. We kept coming. We told all other touring bands we knew. They came… and they kept coming. The Alley turned into a choice college-town tour stop between the Rockies and Seattle, and eventually expanded into a premier small-mid-sized room with a sizeable stage. (Plus an excellent house sound guy in Vertical Dave.)

I like to think that we’re partly responsible. So I’ve continued to play shows here ever since I went solo in 1998. They always treat me well. And, like I said, I meet new fans every time, as they request Saints tunes all night. Before every Northern Idaho tour, I make sure I’ve rehearsed all the Saints tunes — including Dave Coey’s, Alan Toribio’s, adn Mike Walker’s. “Delivered,” “Letter Home,” “Know by Now,” “Deep End,” “Window.” (An older fan got tears in his eyes when I played Dave’s “Tara.”)

I’m usually solo acoustic, but if I have a band with me, we’ll play rockers like “Thin Layer.” And on occasion, the audience will get quiet enough for a quiet ballad like “1968.”

Thankfully, my John’s Alley gigs aren’t all reliving past rocker glory days. Alley-goers are kind to solo acoustic Shipe on that big stage. I get good response to my new material, and interest in new releases. Towards the end of the night, some of them dance. I elicited a two-step with “Villain,” and a swing dance with “The Beast is Back Again.”

Also cool is the intelligent appreciation I get from young listeners, for my “cooler” stuff. What I mean is: As I try to push the musicianship forward — as a guitar player, exhibiting finger-work and going off instrumentally — they hear it, and let me know when it’s good. That is golden, coming from a venue familiar with the likes of Tony Furtado and Derek Trucks (both of whom I’ve opened for, so I am well aware of the musical company I strive to measure up to in these parts.

Shipe @ Oregon Country Fair (7/8)

Yesterday, I had my strongest Oregon Country Fair show ever. The crowd was generous at Shady Grove Stage. And I felt good. They didn’t even seem to mind as I had trouble tuning my guitar under the hot sun. (Read further for my theory as to why this year’s set is better than the past.)

I’ve been performing at Fair for two decades now. Almost every year, I’ve appeared on one of the many side-stages — semi-acoustic or entirely acoustic.

A few blissful times, with my old band The Renegade Saints, I’ve rocked the main stage.

This evening, Matt Butler’s Everyone Orchestra headlined. And I am fondly reminded of year I was exceedingly blessed to join them. I say “exceedingly,” because E.O., as an entertainment act, is what Country Fair is all about. They are not a “band” so much as a “gathering of musicians” by invitation — a different lineup every time — horns, guitars, percussion, strings, turntables, old-timey stuff, banjos and mandolins, exotic things like sitars and ouds. Whatever and whomever Matt finds intriguing. They are absolutely unrehearsed. Matt directs them with hand signals and a grease board through a series of improvised pieces.

My bands — The Saints, The Blue Rebekahs, The Scapegoats — and my solo act, for the most part, have leaned towards the serious side of song. Not exactly what you’re in the mood for when surrounded by painted bodies, stilt-walkers, centaurs, clowns, fairies, carnival barkers, and other swirling odditorium entities.

The Fair is a vaudevillian/circus sideshow melded with rootsy hippiedom and craft-booth creative capitalism. It’s where you go to see entertainment that you can’t get at your average local venue. Yeah, there is some fairly conventional reggae, hip-hop, jamband, and socio-political folk. But the real appeal is the unusual stuff: juggling troupes, burlesque, circus music, exotic vaudeville, and some acts that I can’t even describe.

There are a lot of homemade instruments, played by the makers who have mastered them. My own set on the Shady Grove stage was preceded by Shovelman, who built a guitar out of shovel, and plays virtuosic weird blues. After me, came the legendary Baby Gramps with his eccentric old-timey dobro.

This year, I was promoted as “Thurberian character-filled Americana.” Ha! If there is one thing that Oregon Country Fair is all about… Well, The Fair is about a lot of things. (Strange and bizarre things.) But one thing here, that we celebrate mightily, is the ancient art of story telling. And if there is one way to make “Americana” sound like it’ll fit the Country Fair vibe, it’s to call it “Thurberian.”

All that dovetails nicely with the developments in my own craft and career over the past 3 years. Between songs, I must have talked to the crowd nearly as long as the songs themselves. And my songs nowadays are full of a lot more stories and characters than they used to be.

By the way, if you’re interested, James Thurber was a mid-20th century satirist who wrote my favorite fairy-tale: The 13 Clocks.

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.

Shipe & Walker @ Rock Creek Tavern (6/30)

Last night, old friend and fellow Renegade Saint Mike Walker—back from Africa—sat in on piano at Rock Creek Tavern in Hillsboro, OR. Delighted, I’m hoping it’s a prelude to more such gigs. (Add Alan Toribio to mix… and/or Dave Coey, and we get closer to real Renegade Saints shows. But I like these acoustic sectionals, sometimes wondering if I actually prefer their subtlety and warmth to the spectacle of unbridled Saintly gargantuanism. We used to advertise such meetings as “Petty Saints” gigs. The rule was, any combination of 2 or 3 of us was Petty Saints. If we had the entire front four—even without Ned the drummer—we called it a Renegade Saints show. With Ned the drummer, we have a very special kind of beast, after which I’m usually prescribed bed-rest for several days.)

Mike is a “listening” player. He pays close attention, responsive to the singer/songwriter’s dynamics. You easily witness his concentration. He doesn’t just learn the chord progression and plow through it. This visceral manifestation of musical respect, in the moment, brings out ever more pronounced dynamics in the lead’s performance, resulting in emotion. There is more space-between-the-notes. Starker melodic trajectories. Quieter, more intense low spots. More aggressive highs.

It’s a paradox: With the right musical hands, you can discover new levels of feeling, mood and nuance in under-rehearsed material.

Mike was a session cat on my last album, so he’s somewhat familiar with newer Shipe stuff. But I didn’t want his whole night to feel like “hanging-on,” so I gave him a lot of my older tunes. Wow! I hadn’t realized how much I’ve changed since those rockin’ days of yore. I was darker then, driving at something, like trying to scratch an itch that I couldn’t reach. (Which is why you play with a band sometimes, ’cause you gotta hand someone else the scratcher for those certain hard-to-reach places.) A few of these songs are on the Saints live album. Mercy Saints Alive!

Mike plays with a lot folks in Portland. But right now, his main act is with those other four Saints I’m talking about in Mexican Gunfight.

Shipe Loves McMenamins

For a lot of reasons, it’s good to be back in Oregon–like gigging at McMenamins venues. (This weekend I play a pair of their elite locations: The Grand Lodge in Forest Grove and The Edgefield in Troutdale)

Here is a company that could only bloom in the Northwest, where we have a taste for “from-the-heart” business ideas and a holistic approach to development.

A while back, two craft-ale-brewing brothers started out with pub. They got a tavern and then a cafe. Soon they got a passion for buildings with intriguing local history. This led to old hotels, ballrooms, pool halls, movie theaters, poor farms, defunct elementary schools, churches, brothels, even bathhouses. They turned each location into an outlet unique to its building structure, its history, and its neighborhood. They had local artists paint stream-of-consciousness murals on the interior walls–telling the buildings’ stories.

Some are fine-dining restaurants, some are gritty dive bars, some are fancy resort hotels with spas and golf courses, some are hippy enclaves

The movie theaters are still movie theaters, only with ale & wine. Each outlet is totally unique, and bright spot in its community.

McM’s is also very important to Music–nationally and regionally. While they have big high profile shows at The Crystal Ballroom and The Edgefield, they keep the local music scene thriving with a roster of incredible Northwest talent to play the smaller venues nearly every night of the week.

You’ll find some of these artists on their Great Northwest Music Tour. (My other band,The Renegade Saints, got to be part of GNMT, and we got a live album out of it.)

Now, I’m bragging on this company, because I keep coming back to these things in my home state that I can’t take for granted. In these uncertain economic times, one is proud of a local business done good.

Furthermore, Looking back into my past, I can’t help feeling partly responsible for their success, considering the massive quantities of ale I quaffed in my younger days. Terminator Stout, Hammerhead, Ruby.

I urge my friends from afar: If you visit Oregon–and you should–you will likely see a few McMenamins dates on my calendar. You should come.

Another Renegade Saints clip

It seems the Saints are getting a lot of mileage out of a great show from 2 1/2 years ago. (Portland Bite Festival.) Here’s a clip–the back half of a Jimi Hendrix cover–from our generous fan, Rob.

Dig the acid rock and the Dave Coey’s “Soul Sacrifice” hint of Santana on the bass.

Shipe CD tracking done/ L.A.

At long last, Ehren Ebbage and I have finished with the tracking for the new album.

Ebbage is off to L.A. to do the mixing. Release is scheduled for the Winter. But soon, I’ll be trickling out a handful of samples as they become presentable, offering a free download or two.

As the 12-week surge of adrenaline recedes slowly from my veins, I get back to the more even pace of rehearsal, booking, promotion, and gigging. Not to mention the CD artwork and publicity. (I’m excited to begin working with Green Light Go, a company of robust stature.)

At the outset of this recording, I confess I was in no condition to make an album. On the heels of a dry spell, re-entering civilization from Yellowstone life, and fighting off a medical issue, I had trouble slipping into my imagination and flowing with ideas. But Ebbage, producer extraordinaire with a great bedside manner, convinced me that there were a dozen gems amongst my latest 31-song batch, then he hauled my ass up to Crossroads Productions

From there, we kept moving forward until the damn fine thing was done. And I feel certain that it’s going to be the best so far the Shipester.

Ebbage and the musicians below, I thank deeply; for they are truly responsible, not just for this album, but for getting me through tough personal times:

Sean Peterson (bass)

Kevin Powell (drums)

Mike Walker (organ, piano, accordion)

Al Toribio (guitar)

Alice Blankenship (violin)

Amy Danziger (cello)

Tim McLaughlin (trumpet)

Johnny Clay (vocals)

And the Feel Good Singers: Mike Last, Jerry-Groove Abelin & Brendan McCloud

Most of all, my lovely & talented wife Amy Wray, who always steps up when it counts–photographer, actress, and occasional feel-good singer.

Shipe on Coeur D’Alene Moon Time

Woke this morning to see that “Honky Tonk Romans” is on a playlist I haven’t seen yet: Barely Darker Than Air. A good resource for East Coast community.

Last night was one of my better Moon Time gigs. The place was packed. (Iron Man Triathalon is in town.) Even though they were typically noisy on Dollar-Pint Night, they were listening. applauding after every song, tipping, making requests, and buying CD’s. I tested their attentiveness by directly soliciting tips–announcing that my local hotel of choice had raised its rates by 40 percent. They responded. I would not have done this had I not been sure that I was playing well, already making a warm connection by virtue of the performance. One does not resort to playing on the audience’s sympathies for the poor starving traveling troubadour. One only asks for voluntary compensation after providing solid entertainment. (Speaking of compensation, I thank Moon Time for paying their solo artists well. It’s always a reassuring way to start a tour. And the comped meal is spectacular.)

I mentioned that folks were making requests…

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Renegade Saints & Crazy 8′s

This just appeared outta nowhere: a satisfying indulgence by my other band–The Renegade Saints–in a great Rolling Stones number. Live at the Portland Bite Festival (2008). We were joined by none other than the Crazy 8′s horn section. Love the twin trombone attack, and love Al Toribio’s excitable arrangement.