Bob Frank and John Murry

Your blood may run cold but it’’s a heart-warming story. 63 year old Bob Frank’’s first and last album was released by the Vanguard label in 1972. Although he never stopped writing songs, he has spent the entire interim working in Oakland as an “irrigation specialist”. This is not the sort of person who, in an industry obsessed with youth and fashion, could reasonably be expected to sign a record deal in 2007, let alone be taken up as the darling of Rolling Stone and Uncut magazines. Yet this is what has happened.

Catalyst in all this is 27 year old John Murry, on the face of it a fearsome man-mountain, who was introduced to Bob Frank as a potential cure for depression following his move to San Francisco (where both can now be found). Immediately tumbling into a love-hate-love-hate relationship (the old ‘can’’t live with or without you’ syndrome), they first of all grew some poppies and then started to write together. The project was to create a canon of murder ballads which nodded in the direction of tradition, but which were based on their own historical research. Thus, the album contains songs about an unrepentant killer (“Boss Weatherford, 1933), about two contrasting lynchings (“Tupelo, Mississippi, 1936” and “Jesse Washington, 1916”) and a legendary Mexican Robin Hood (“Joaquim Murietta, 1853”).

Bloodthirsty, of course, but with a strangely alluring beauty all of their own, the ballads on “World Without End” are encased in sumptuously inventive arrangements by Murry and producer Tim Mooney (American Music Club), but live, they operate as a duo, with Murry’’s scratchy electric guitar inter-acting with Frank’s more traditionally picked acoustic. “”This guy came up to me after a show and accused me of ruining the songs by turning up my volume and drowning out Bob because I was supposedly in a bad mood”, complains John, in a manner that suggests that the audience member should really have kept his mouth shut. “”He didn’t understand that this violent juxtaposition of sound is exactly what we are trying to create.””

And it undoubtedly works. The combination of the grizzled gentleman with the acoustic and the terrifying grunge-rocker (actually a sensitive intellectual with a strange way of showing it) makes for a stage show like you’’ve never seen. Plus, they both have contrasting but equally mellifluous voices. As they brought their songs to a completely unprepared but soon converted European audience (the pair had never previously stepped outside the US), there were numerous cultural divides to be bridged but, as it should be, the music did the talking and the unique, unstudied nature of the characters triumphed. There’s always the danger with these things that there’’s an element of artifice involved, but talk to these two for a couple of minutes and you realize that they are the real deal, innocents abroad almost, and all the better for it. They certainly don’’t belong in the superficial world of the music industry.

Bob is resolutely laid-back about the project. ““It was John’’s idea to write the songs but we wrote them together. John is the creative impetus, hell, he came up with all the instrumentation, he even did all the design work. If I hadn’’t met this guy, it would never have happened.””

John: “”The original idea was to record old murder ballads, but Bob writes story songs anyway, so it just sort of came together. They are as factually accurate as we could make them, but some have different historical versions and others are legends. ‘Bubba Rose’ actually happened, we know that for sure.””

These guys are on an adventure which is the stuff of dreams but they remain blissfully unaware, taking each day as it comes and trying hard not to make reality out of art by actually murdering each other. How it all pans out is set to be one of the most intriguing episodes in recent musical history.

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Sons and Daughters interview

It doesn’t happen often. You walk into some nondescript club and the support band knocks you for six. Yet that was the case at Edinburgh’s Venue when Sons and Daughters opened for Nina Nastasia at the back end of last year. The audience inched closer to the stage, sensing that they were in on the early stages of something big. “What’s your name?” called out a couple of people, but the band didn’t seem to hear. I had to approach them as they loaded their gear into a boot in the teeth of a howling gale. “Look at our website”, they said, “It’s”. Somehow, it seemed apt.
Claiming to be “related in every sense but blood”, Sons and Daughters have not just sprung from nowhere. All four members were active in Glasgow before coming together. Adele Bethel (guitar and vocals) and David Gow (drums and percussion) recorded and toured as members of Arab Strap, in addition to their involvement with the Zephyrs and David Kitt. Scott Paterson (guitar and vocals) is the man behind March of Dimes, while Ailidh Lennon (bass, piano, mandolin) studied the classical route at college. “She lends a touch of class to the proceedings for sure!” enthuses Scott.
The music that had so fascinated the crowd that night was difficult to describe, so how about giving it a go yourselves, guys?
Scott: “We play music which draws a lot from Scottish and American folk influences, fused with an array of everything else we love from blues, funk, country, post-punk and rock n’ roll. It’s difficult to nail us down, I suppose. There is a lot of drama involved in the music and lyrics we write – someone described it recently as ‘killbilly’.”
“We aren’t really aligned to any particular style”, continues Ailidh. “There’s a freedom there to do what we like as long as it feels good to play. It’s not like we sat down and said ‘let’s start a punk-folk band.’ We just started writing and rehearsing, and it evolved into what we sound like now.”
Their debut full album, “Love The Cup” appeared early this year and coincided – with the kind of serendipity that even a great band needs – with a sudden interest in all things musically connected with Glasgow. So how do you fit in?
Scott: “I don’t know if there’s a Glasgow scene as such, but there is definitely a vast range of imaginative and eclectic bands around at the moment. More so than any time I can remember. Bands like Pro-Forma, Multiplies, Foxface and Franz Ferdinand all have completely different styles, but could and have played on the same bill. I don’t think any of the bands in Glasgow fit in with anything happening in the wider circle of music, so I guess that’s something you could say we have in common. There’s a real punk ethic about things in Glasgow though, in the truest sense of the word: do whatever the fuck you wanna do.”?
“There’s no two bands exactly the same”, adds David. “Often there’ll be similar reference points, but I think most bands want to be a little different, and that’s where the excitement comes from. It’s not about posturing, it’s just about trying to be musically good and entertaining.”?
When trying to pin down the charm of Sons and Daughters, an enquiry as to their influences explains a lot.
Adele loves songwriters like (Smog)’s Bill Callahan, and Leonard Cohen. “Lyrically they’re both fucking geniuses. I enjoy the black humour that runs through their records. I also love music that can be depressing, but funny at the same time, like the Smiths.” Scott, on the other hand, admires Bob Dylan, Nick Cave, Johnny Cash and Neil Young. “These are guys that have a real grit and passion about them. I also love Shellac and Led Zeppelin.” And just to complete the melting pot, Ailidh cites bands like Parliament / Funkadelic, Talking Heads and Devo, while for David, it’s the Stooges, Ramones, and Mudhoney. “My new favourite band is Comets on Fire. I’m going to see them in Texas and I cannae wait! I love bands that are a bit wrong!”
One thing you can’t miss is Sons and Daughters’ interest in the Scottish folk tradition. David confirms: “We listen to guys like Bert Jansch, Davy Graham, Anne Briggs, John Martyn. None of these people really set themselves limits on what they should and shouldn’t be doing. If a certain instrument or arrangement should be right for the song, then so be it. That’s the kind of spirit and freedom we want to continue.”
Sons and Daughters are accompanying Franz Ferdinand first on a US tour and then on a UK and European jaunt as well. These bands are made for one another. “We first played with Franz Ferdinand in Stereo, Glasgow”, remembers Ailidh. “There was a great buzz that night, and we were playing the best we could, so they wouldn’t completely blow us off the stage, but they did anyway!”?
“Then we played with them one night at Fibbers in York”, continues Scott, “and it was fantastic! We stayed up into the night drinking and having fun in the hotel. We’re good pals now, and can’t wait to get away on the U.K. tour with them and the Fiery Furnaces.”?
The buzz around this band and its unique appeal is palpable, and they are swept away by it, yet down to earth as well. “At the moment, things are just crazy”, agrees Scott. “Every day there’s a new development or something good to look forward to. It feels great to know we aren’t alone in loving this kind of music.”

From LOGO magazine

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Grandaddy interview

My top musical memory of 2003 was of Grandaddy, publicly claiming to have “taken every drug we could lay our hands on”, blasting out their charming hybrid of hi-tech and pastoral prog at unthinkable volume to a field full of wasted but adoring Glastonbury-goers. The synergy was perfect, and it’s a moment Grandaddy won’t forget either, a highlight of what, for them, has been a brilliant year. Speaking backstage at the Ancienne Belgique in Brussels, Keyboard player Tim Dryden recalls: “Glastonbury was one of our best shows, and it was a very special moment for us, because we’d never played in front of an audience that size. It was even a little bit frightening, but it meant a lot to us because it showed we’d come out of our shell a bit more and the band had matured. And the technology behaved itself” (frantic knocking on wood).
It’s all a long way from the gang which grew up in Modesto, in the Santa Cruz area of California, a place of surfers, pelicans and silicon chips. This is definitely a band which is a community rather than a business. “Jason and I were in high school together and pretty much all of us met through skateboarding. We were all friends long before we were in a band, we skateboarded together; we’re not one of those bands that had to advertise for members”.
A band as unique as Grandaddy could only really have emerged from the inherent contradictions of life in Southern California. “I can honestly say that all the music is written because of where we came from and the fact that we grew up together. ‘Sumday’, particularly, contains a lot more personal stuff from Jason about things that were happening to him, but anyone listening to our albums will understand that they came about because of where we’re from.”
So what’s with the “sprinklers that come on at 3 am”, then? Tim smiles before explaining the song “The Group Who Couldn’t Say”: “The song is written about people who are cooped up in offices, in a cubicle with a computer, and they don’t have a different experience, you know, they go home, watch TV and go to bed, and they don’t really experience what’s going on around them outdoors, until finally someone takes them to the forest and shows them what life is really all about. It renders them speechless.”
Apart from being the most artistically and commercially successful year of Grandaddy’s career, there was one frightening moment which occurred during their fall tour of the US: “Jim go run over by a truck.”
“Yeah, he was just walking off the tour bus and he tripped on the steps. He was drunk, of course, everyone in this band drinks too much. Anyway, he just fell into the road. It just happened that he fell under a production truck just next to the bus. The truck was moving and Jim somehow managed to roll out of the way so that the wheels just missed his head and caught his shoulder.”
Grandaddy is a unique and precious band. Let’s hope they learn to look after themselves better.

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Notwist interview

April sees Bavaria’s Notwist heading Stateside for a highly-anticipated tour. It’s a bit of a departure for this essentially studio-based band, but they are looking forward to it. Markus Acher:
“We’ll be playing with bands from the Anticon label, which we like very, very much. I just recently toured with my other band Lali Puna, and that was a great experience. Hopefully, stupid George W and his gang won’t make it impossible with his Saddam-neurosis and his greed for oil.”
Yes, well … about those other bands. The Notwist seems, ironically, to be on the back burner at the very moment that their big US breakthrough occurs, courtesy of Domino Recordings, who have picked up their Neon Golden album from City Slang, and released it, complete with three bonus tracks. But Markus (guitar, vocals) his brother Micha (bass, trumpet), electronic maestro Martin Gretschmann and divertingly-named drummer Mecki Messerschmidt have chosen this moment to concentrate on their other projects, Tied + Tickled Trio, Console, MS John Soda and Lali Puna. Basically, they are just tired of touring: “We played a lot when we started, in the earlier Punk/Hardcore-days, I guess every little club or flat in Germany, which is why we are a little bit tired of touring too long. But it’s still important not to lose the energy which made us start this band.”
Just how a German band could sound so American is a slight mystery, but Markus positively glows with pleasure when the Notwist is compared to Pavement: “I’m totally happy with being compared to such a great band!” Which probably explains how they ended up on Domino: “Well, Domino released lots of our all-time favorite records, that’s why we asked them. We are very happy that they are releasing it.”
All the members of the Notwist grew up in Weilheim, Bavaria, “a very small and boring town”, where they still live and record. After playing in a variety of school bands, they ran into Hardcore, punk rock and all kinds of noise. Influenced by bands like Rites of Spring, Dinosaur Jr and Jerry’s Kids, they started out around 1988 as a trio with bass, guitar, drums, and voice.
Markus was also a big fan of Neil Young, so tried singing slow melodies
over noisy and fast HC-stomping backings. At that stage, they played and toured a lot, gradually developing an interest in jazz and electronics, eventually inviting their friend Martin Gretschmann to do some electronics for them: “After a while, he became the fourth member of the band. Now we see ourselves as a kind of a tragic popband”, explains Markus.
How is it that most German rock bands, including the Notwist, write exclusively in English?
“Growing up with music in Germany, the language of pop music was
mostly English. To me, so many things people like Neil Young sang touched
me deeply, although I didn’t understand them totally. That’s why many
English words have a meaning beside their dictionary meaning, which makes it interesting to write in English and not to try to write it like a native speaker. Not understanding it totally gives you the freedom to use it in a different way. I like the distance, the sound, the limitations, the
abstraction. It’s like playing an instrument you can’t play and being
forced to just find the few essential notes.”
The sparsity of the Notwist’s music is a major part of the band’s charm, as is the highly-charged, deeply thoughtful production which underpins particularly this album. Markus gives us an insight into the songwriting and recording process:
We first have the melody, and it takes a lot of time to write lyrics
that fit into the melody and express what I want to say. For Neon Golden, I
was very impressed by some lyrics of Bill Callaghan and Will Oldham, who write very clearly, very simply, but mysterious in its simplicity. Like haikus, the whole picture should be in one single line.
“As for the production, we started composing and producing individually, then we met in the studio and exchanged material. We started recording,
experimenting with all kinds of instruments, invited friends like Saam the
percussion player to improvise on the songs, and overloaded the songs with signals. We then made a break, took the stuff home, rearranged everything and went into the studio again. We wanted to try everything we could think of. After doing this a few times, we came to the point where we thought it should be more minimal and close, and we started to look for the few essential tracks.
Neon Golden is a highly-rewarding listen, revelling in the intimate “closeness” to which Markus refers. But it’s not likely to be a million-seller, and nor is it intended to be:
“We don’t even attempt to be a part of the commercial music business, but I think we’ve found our place and our way to deal with it. It’s difficult. Money must never be a reason for a decision. That sounds like hippie-stuff, but it’s the only way to sing your own song.”
Long may the Notwist continue to sing their own song. 

From Amplifier magazine

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Peter Bruntnell interview

You’d be forgiven for thinking that Peter Bruntnell is American. For a start, although he isn’t too keen on the expression, the songs and structures on his most recent CD, the best-selling “Normal For Bridgwater” fit firmly into the “alt-country” bracket, and he acknowledges the effect that Neil Young’s “After The Goldrush” has had on his work.
Further, all three of Peter’s albums have been issued on US labels. The more rock-orientated, yet still mercilessly melodic “Cannibal” and “Camelot In Smithereens” both appeared on Almo Sounds, a label set up by the indefatigable Herb Alpert, a man who knows his way round a good tune. And the career-defining “Normal For Bridgwater” is released by the American label Slow River.
Yet Peter is as un-American as can be. Still living in outer London, though in the process of relocating with his family to deepest Devon, he considers himself to be a native of the suburban town of Kingston on Thames, although he was actually born in New Zealand, of Welsh parentage. In actual fact, the album reflects several lengthy periods spent in Vancouver, so the feel is more Canadian than anything else.
Peter’s natural environment is playing in crowded bars, either with his four-piece band or with his guitarist sidekick and brilliant instrumentalist James Walbourne. Ten years on the dole and playing throughout the UK and Europe, plus six or seven Stateside visits, have turned Peter into a consummate live performer, to the extent that he thinks (possibly correctly, although to the non-hyper critical ear, the album sounds just magnificent) that “Normal For Bridgwater” is best experienced live:
“I suppose I do feel happy with it, although I did get quite a shock when I listened to it about two months ago, because we play the songs live now with a lot more dynamics and in a more relaxed way. But I do still like the record and I like the songs on it.”
It sounds very much as though Peter, after casting around for a musical modus operandi, has experienced the serendipity of choosing a style which also happens to be truly commercially accessible.
“Well, I don’t set out to write for anybody other than myself, so I don’t really consider it commercial, even though it might be. It’s not something I’m conscious of.”
Are the songs on the forthcoming album in the same style?
“Yes, they’re a continuation of the last record. With my first two albums, I was confused, whereas with ‘Normal For Bridgwater’, I decided I was going to do exactly what I wanted to do, and if people like it, great, and if they don’t, tough. That’s why I’m quite pleased that the one I consider much more honest is the one that people like more.”
What on earth can be the significance of that odd album title, and indeed the languid “NFB”, its accompanying song?
“A couple who are friends of mine ran a particularly rough pub in Bridgwater (a small town in the UK West Country), and the landlady was telling me one day that the doctors in Bridgwater use the abbreviation NFB (= Normal For Bridgwater) when describing their test results for slightly disturbed local patients.”
If you think that’s eccentric, it’s not half as charming as the album’s undoubted highlight (and live tour de force) “By The Time My Head Gets To Phoenix”.
“That was an item on a news programme one evening, where there was a group of people in England who wanted their bodies sent to Phoenix, Arizona for preservation in some cryogenic tanks, to be frozen and then revived in the future. But the weight of a human body made it too expensive to ship in an aeroplane, so they’re going to cut the head off the first one that dies and freeze that.”
A new album from Peter is eagerly awaited, but it seems the wait will have to be a little longer:
“I’ve got twelve songs written and my management company is in the process of talking to a couple of labels, so the record will be recorded before the end of this year and released early next year.”
Does this mean that the association with Slow River is no more? Suddenly, the normally intensely communicative singer finds himself totally speechless. After a long pause, all Peter will offer is:
“Umm … I don’t think we’re gonna do another record with Slow River.”
Would you care to elaborate?
So that’s that. But the moment the conversation returns to music, Peter is back on top form:
“There’s a song on the new album called ‘Tabloid Reporter’. It’s about a journalist from the News Of The World who posed as a potential business partner, lured the Radio 1 DJ Johnnie Walker into a meeting and asked him to score him some coke. Consequently, Johnnie got thrown off the BBC for a while, so I wrote this angry song which attacks that journalist and others like him.”
It’s going to be another classic.
From Amplifier magazine, November 2001 

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John Parish interview

It was back in the late seventies and early eighties that John Parish was to be found, playing either drums or guitar, round the lesser-known music venues of the south of England in various small-time punk or new wave bands with names like The Headless Horsemen or Automatic Dlamini. Following that, John went on to teach music performance and recording technology at Yeovil College in Somerset (a trailblazing course, as it turned out), while producing albums by successful indie bands like the Chesterfields and the Brilliant Corners.
Even then, John stood out from the rest as someone not only steeped in natural musicianship, but also as a person of single-minded determination and vision. So it’s no surprise that he is now a highly respected producer, songwriter and performer. The only surprise is that it took so long. But ask him whether he had some master career plan and the response is disarmingly downbeat: “I have no career structure whatsoever. I tend to do the most interesting thing that is on offer at any given time. Sometimes that’s my own thing, sometimes it’s working with somebody (or bodies) else. That’s all there is to it.”
At the end of 2001, critics and fans will be undertaking their annual appraisal of the Albums of the Year. You can bet your life that, among those slugging it out for the number One slot will be Sparklehorse’s “It’s A Wonderful Life”, Goldfrapp’s “Felt Mountain” and Eels’ “Souljacker”. It just so happens that John was intimately involved in the generation of all three. The Sparklehorse album contains a number of songs which were produced (and played on) by John in Barcelona. He also plays on several tracks on the Goldfrapp album (Alison Goldfrapp previously worked with John on his “Rosie” soundtrack), and, most tellingly, he has co-written and co-produced “Souljacker” and is currently on a world tour playing guitar in the inimitable Eels.
It’s ironic that all this activity, entailing enormous amounts of travelling and being away from home, has coincided with John’s discovery of the joys of family life at home in Bristol. John’s daughter Honor (after whom his home studio, Honorsound, is sweetly named) is an absolute charmer, and John’s wife Michelle is expecting another child shortly:
“I am a reluctant tourer though,” sighs John. “I enjoy playing the shows, but I hate being away from my family.”
It may also appear ironic that yet another album vying for the top slot, PJ Harvey’s “Stories From The City, Stories From The Sea”, has strong John Parish connections but doesn’t actually feature him. After a collaboration lasting over a decade, their careers have, possibly temporarily, gone in different directions. But my suggestion that John “quit” PJ Harvey goes down badly:
“I didn’t ‘quit’ PJ Harvey. PJH does not exist as a band apart from when on tour. I was not asked to work on the ‘Stories From The City ….’ album. Polly knew that I would not be interested in touring a record that I had not been involved in, and she also knew that I did not want to tour at all…..which does beg the question, how come I’m on tour with Eels now?”
So what is the answer to that question?
“Well, E & I met at Top of the Pops. Really. We got on, and talked about doing something together sometime. After Eels had recorded Daisies of the Galaxy, E started working on his ROCK record – and thought I might be the right person to drag in. I went over to LA for a week and we wrote ‘Dog Faced boy’ and ‘Teenage Witch’. After the ‘Daisies’ tour, E called me and we arranged the session for the rest of what became ‘Souljacker’. Having contributed so much to the album, it then felt only right to tour.”
It’s odd that someone as level-headed as John chooses to work with artists who have, at least, the reputation of being “difficult”. Or is that, with regard to E, a false impression?
“He’s not really difficult, no. He does know what he wants , and is not scared to say it. I actually find that position very easy to work with, as you know exactly where you are. I suppose, if you had opposing views as to how to approach things, then you might find him difficult …”
To the layman, “Souljacker” sounds as if it has John Parish stamped all over it.
I wondered how the collaboration between John and E worked out in practical terms?
“For some tracks (‘Dog Faced Boy’, ‘That’s Not Really Funny’, ‘World of Shit’, ‘What Is This Note?’), I wrote and recorded much of the music at home in Bristol. E then added lyrics & other stuff when I came over to LA last January. Some tracks (‘Souljacker Parts 1 & 2’) were already finished before I got involved. Some we wrote together in his studio (‘Bus Stop Boxer’, ‘Woman Driving’ …). We both work fast. The bulk of the album was written, recorded and mixed in three weeks. Our working day had to contain at least an hour’s croquet, which either myself or Butch would win. We took a day off to attend Jennifer Jason Leigh’ssurprise birthday party. I knocked a full glass of wine into her bowl of ornamental wooden carved plantains.”The artist with whom John has been most closely involved over the years is Howe Gelb of Giant Sand. John and his family like to hang out with Howe’s extended family and friends in Arizona:

“If I had to pick one favourite, it’d be Howe Gelb, with or without the rest of Giant Sand, for the constant spontaneity, originality of thought and process, and the way beauty would miraculously appear out of seeming chaos. That doesn’t mean recording him / them was the easiest or most pleasurable experience – sometimes it could be intensely frustrating. I’ve seldom felt as little in control of a session. But that is Howe’s way – you put your trust in chance…”
When John guested with PJ Harvey at the Reading Festival, she introduced him as “more of a god than a man”. This presumably means that relations between them are as strong as ever?
“Yeah, well, that was before I fucked up the intro to ‘Send His Love To Me’, wasn’t it? But yes, relations are good between us, even though I don’t much care for her last album. It’s funny, but I don’t really feel ‘not involved’ – even if we don’t talk for weeks at a time, we always have a very close relationship. We rely on each other as critics. We don’t always agree, obviously, but we know each other’s parameters so well that the other’s opinion is frequently invaluable.
I don’t doubt that we will continue (on and off) to work together on various
projects. In fact, my wife Michelle has often said that she expects Polly and me to end up as some dodgy organ and drums pub duo when we’re in our 60s. Well, my 70s, I suppose…”
The Eels world tour will take John well into next spring. Only then will we get the chance to hear the material he has already recorded for his solo project, “How Animals Move”.
“I was hoping for a March release,” says John, “but now there’s a new baby on the way, I’m putting it back until at least May. I’m planning to tour for a little while. It’s difficult to go out for long with a band the size I need to play this stuff, but I’m hoping to do maybe a month. That would include shows in the US.”

From Amplifier magazine

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Patty Hurst Shifter

What’s in a name? Well, Patty Hurst Shifter, the pride of Raleigh, North Carolina, get asked about theirs all the time, but that’s not the only problem. On their recent UK tour, guitarist Marc E. Smith had to put up with audience members calling out for Fall songs, while drummer Skillet Gilmore had to cope with requests for a sizzling performance. Bassist Jesse James Huebner had a different headache, being an exact visual double of UK comedian Harry Enfield. He had to learn to accept that audience members in fits of laughter weren’t commenting on his bass technique.

So already it’s a cheerful picture, and this is a band that loves to enjoy itself. The European jaunt was an example of this. An exhausting itinerary and no road crew, not to mention this being their first transatlantic trip, could have led to stress, but their “drink a few beers, meet the locals and have a good time” approach meant that they were welcomed with open arms wherever they went. As Gilmore says, “We’re friends, first and foremost. The music is the by-product of us hanging out.”

“There’s a lot of sincerity in what we do, but not in a heavy way,” adds front man and songwriter J. Chris Smith. “It’s fun, but at the same time I think we have a knack for taking painful experiences and imagery and turning it into something that rocks.” And here’s the fascinating thing about Patty Hurst Shifter (by the way, the name started out as a joke and just stuck). They may seem on the surface to be a good time rock band, but still waters run deep, and they don’t run much deeper than Chris. Answering an enquiry about how a song comes together, he gives an intriguing insight into their modus operandi:

“It usually starts with me bringing in a verse and chorus structure, and I make it a ru