Monthly Archives: June 2015

“Vinyl was far extinct by the time I was old enough to buy music. I grew up in the MP3 and file sharing generation, but I’ll never forget the first time I really discovered vinyl. I remember thinking ‘Wow, how the hell did this giant disc fit in my parents’ car?”

“I was immediately curious. I mean you could touch it, feel it, smell it, flip it around from side A to B—and MAN—the first time I laid down vinyl on a turntable, that crackling noise just gave me shivers down my spine. I felt as if I was in the room with the artist. There is something vibrant, blooming, yet haunting about vinyl. It smells, feels, and sounds real. It is the ultimate authentic.

I grew up in a family rich with musical taste. My eldest sister was a classical pianist, my middle sister was a ’90s kid, and my parents loved the classics. We had an eclectic vinyl collection to say the least, and as the years went on I got to add to it myself. That is the beauty of vinyl… it lasts. I have records now that were passed down to my parents, who passed them down to me, and it will go on forever.

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Press Play is our Monday recap of the new tracks received last week—provided here to inform your next trip to your local indie record store. Click, preview, download, purchase.

Round Eye – City Livin
Summer Fiction – Perfume Paper
Gene Serene – Hazza
Harrison Brome – Fill Your Brains
Wolfspider – See Through Doors
KiTheory – If You Don’t Care / Fake It
Gemini Club – Fret & Regret
TOURIST – Waves
CYBERPUNKERS – Sick Track
+AZIZ – RMDN

TVD SINGLE OF THE WEEK:
Jojee – I Don’t Give A

Aer – I Can’t Help It (Win & Woo Remix)
D∆WN – Running From Sane
Vanessa Elisha – Down For This
The Palms – Forever
Nite School Klik – Nice Nightmares
Totem Terrors – Big E
Midnight Pool Party – Disease
WITHOUT – VYZA
RRose RRome feat. Skyzoo – What We Talkin Bout Bout
Yellow Claw – Dancehall Soldier (DAN FARBER Remix)

Heralded as “the band who was punk before punk was punk,” Death was ahead of their time, the most influential band that no one had heard of. Their unique brand of proto-punk pre-dated the Ramones by two years, but in their unwillingness to kowtow to record executives who demanded they change their name (“Death” was considered a taboo, unmarketable band name in the early ’70s), the band was literally shelved. The master tapes would sit in a suitcase in an attic, lying in wait to be unleashed upon the world.

Their tale was told in the 2012 documentary, A Band Called Death, a heartfelt, emotional, and inspiring film chronicling the band’s history leading to their subsequent revival. I watched the film with a smile and an occasional tear in my eye, and made it my mission to tell as many people about Death as humanly possible. Their story needed to be told, their music needed to be heard. My chance had come, and I finally had the opportunity to see them live at the Black Cat in Washington, DC.

After the show, Death stayed for a meet-and-greet, sticking around until the last person got their pictures, autographs, and conversation with the band. We made our way to the dressing room and what followed was as joyous and inspiring a conversation as I could have hoped for. Forty years later, Death has finally found their moment to shine.

So, this was your first time playing DC? How’d it go?

Bobby Hackney: It was a big success! We enjoyed it, people came out, and it was great. Ever since we’ve been here we’ve just had a wonderful time hanging out. They say it’s Washington, DC, but this is Georgetown, right?

No, we’re in DC proper.

BH: This is awesome. We really had a wonderful time, we love Washington, DC. We definitely plan to come back. It was a great time.

What was your initial reaction to the huge response to the A Band Called Death documentary? Did you ever expect it to have that kind of impact?

BH: Well, when we saw the end result of it, we knew that it was something good. We didn’t know how the public would take it, but it’s been wonderful, man. It’s like a surreal dream and it’s what we’re living.

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He may have turned into an unreconstructed redneck jingoistic asshole, but once upon a time Charlie Daniels was cool. He played sessions with one Bob Dylan, wrote one of the funniest anti-redneck songs ever, and wrote another song about the South doin’ it again that was so jaunty even the ghost of a Union bluecoat could dance to it. Oh, and he bragged about getting stoned in the morning and drunk in the afternoon, and if you didn’t like it you could go fuck yourself.

But somewhere along the line he became a right-winger and a vitriolic patriot, a calling that Samuel Johnson once described as being “the last refuge of a scoundrel.” America can do no wrong as far as Daniels is concerned—his 2003 LP Freedom & Justice For All falls on the wrong side of despicable—and it makes me kind of ill because like I say, he used to be the kind of redneck country boy whose politics seemed limited to his belief in his right to wear his hair long and take the occasional toke. I’ve seen the same phenomenon occur with the band that tours the land calling itself Lynyrd Skynyrd; it seems to be an occupational hazard of being a country rock artist in these complex times. Unhinged by God knows what, they wrap themselves in the flag (see Daniels’ “This Ain’t No Rag, It’ a Flag”) and utter “America: Love It or Leave It” rhetoric, and it’s all rather queasy making.

Which is why I’m so ambivalent about Charlie Daniels. I love a lot of his music, and suspect he’s a sweet guy, but seeing what he’s turned into almost makes me grateful Ronnie Van Zant died young, because if he’d become what Daniels has it would have broken my Skynyrd-loving heart. That said, back in the day Daniels was producing a hybrid of southern music that mixed rock, blues, Southern swing, jazz, and everything in between, and say what you will, he produced some mighty tasty songs.

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