Since releasing Multiply in 2005, one-man funk machine Jamie Lidell has made a name for himself in the realm of soul-revivalism. Up until now, his music has largely been warm, polished, and accessible, with a Sunday-morning-soul feel to it. On Compass, his third album for Warp, Lidell trades his signature R&B, Motown-grounded sound for something more ambitious, eclectic, and rough. The album is a challenge; it marks a departure from the easily discernible flow of his previous releases. At first listen, it's easy to get lost in the genre-traversing, manic eccentricity of the record. It's only after hearing the album in its entirety a couple times that the tracks start to become more coherent and cohesive as a whole.

Lidell had assistance from a talented array of musicians on Compass. Beck produced much of the album, and co-wrote “Big Drift” and “Coma Chameleon.” Other collaborators include Wilco's Pat Sansone, Gonzales, Feist, Nikka Costa, Chris Taylor of Grizzly Bear, and drummer James Gadson.

Lidell recently performed some of the new material off Compass during a show at the Bowery Ballroom. Sporting metallic-gold shoes and a suit reminiscent of a glittery, vinyl Fruit Roll-Up, he oozed humor, charisma, and raucous, unbridled energy. When he performed his new songs, like “Compass” and “The Ring,” complex, stitched-together sounds felt balanced by a raw, emotional sincerity imbedded in the lyrics. Before taking the stage, Lidell sat down to talk to BRM about the making of his new album, Compass collaborators, and his most trusted critic - his mom.

BRM: How is this Compass different from your other albums?

Jamie Lidell: Well, I think my mom heard it first and she’s always a good kind of reality check for me, she knows all my stuff and she’s quite a critical person, in a good way, someone whose opinion I can rely on. I think she found it a little bit more of a challenge to get through the album as opposed to my earlier work that’s definitely a little bit more accessible. Not that this is not accessible though, that’s the thing. I think it’s just a really wide spectrum of music all crammed on one bit. It’s kind of like you have to have an adventurous spirit to get into it. And I’ve heard other people say, people that know me pretty well, that in the beginning they couldn’t get through it and it was a little confusing, but then after a few listens it felt really familiar. So maybe it’s one of those things that take a few more listens than the other albums, but it’s really rewarding. We were making a video to the song “The Ring”, and playing it so many times, and it never really got boring, even for me, and I was like wow that’s kind of strange, because usually you’re just losing you’re mind after hearing it for the fiftieth time. All of the songs on this album came together in a sort of quick way, everything was just spontaneously thrown down, and that helps, you don’t have to over-think anything.

You collaborated with a bunch of people on the album. Is there anyone in particular that was a lot of fun to work with?
I always like working with Feist. She’s one of those people that you can give a call to and if she’s into it and she’s around she’s just like, “yeah whatever,” and she’ll be hangin’ and chillin’ and shooting the shit with everyone and then you’ll say, “hey you wanna do that vocal?” and she’ll go into like crazy work mode and just nails incredible shit. It’s just like, “where did that come from? A minute ago you were just like hanging out and then you just nail this perfect vocal.” She’s always really nice to work with. I don’t like to play favorites. I mean it’s hard to fold between, they’re all amazing, from Gonzales to Pat [Sansone] to Beck, it’s been crazy.


Do you have a song that you’re most proud of off of Compass?
I guess I like “Compass” a lot just because it’s pretty different, it’s a different style for me. It’s one of those songs that really crosses the whole spectrum of players, producers, and venues. It was recorded in L.A. with Beck and Feist, and Nikka Costa and everyone came together at Ocean Way. It was a really great day, but I didn’t think I got the song, and I knew that I needed help on the record in general so Chris Taylor [of Grizzly Bear] came in and we edited a little bit at Feist’s house in Canada, so it was literally all of those sections put together. Chris Taylor kind of brought it together in a way because he really understood what the song needed. Yeah so now I finally have a song from what I thought was going to just be a bunch of bits. And I think stylistically it’s a new thing for me. I’m proud of it definitely. It’s one of those songs that I already heard when I wrote it, and when we recorded I thought, oh we missed it, and then Chris [Taylor] could hear it again. It was kind of like one of those little mystical things. I thought I missed it, he heard it. 


What’s your writing strategy like?
I guess I just try to keep an open mind. It’s like a party, everyone’s welcome, I don’t turn away people with silly hats, and I don’t only welcome people with silly hats. It’s kind of like that. When I wrote this album I knew I had a month to sketch everything so I just thought, okay if I do a tune a day, then I’ll have loads of sketches to choose from, but then I was like, yeah but a tune a day is a lot. You see, if your mind says a tune a day is a lot, you’re never get anything done. It is a lot on one hand, but at the same time, you know, you come up with a good idea sometimes and if you just write it down, that’s it, that’s all the song is. It’s been a shift in gears. With this album I just thought, well today I’m feeling this guitar, so I just play something on it, record it, see if I can’t roll with that. You know, just like if it doesn’t work, turn up tomorrow and see what happens. And then maybe the drum machine, or maybe just doing the vocals will do it, or the lyrics. A lot of the way this album came together was lyrical, a lyrically driven affair. I had a lot to say, and I thought, okay this is good, you know, let this be my guide, and just choose what instrument goes with the words. And I never really wrote like that. It’s probably really common for a lot of people, but I never did that. I’m always throwing out the rulebook and starting again. No real plan.

Do you have a favorite city to play shows in?
I always like playing in Japan, it’s just like such a crazy thrill. And Australia’s really great too. But it’s just sort of unfair really because you go to all those places and it’s winter here and you’re in summer there and it’s like wow. I played in New Zealand recently, and it’s just like raw nature by the bloody ocean, and it’s not like this place is horrible, but it’s hard to compete with that. Actually the show we did in New Zealand was so-so, but the venue was amazing. I like to play outdoors in beautiful spots. I like a lot of festivals really, here in the States too, like Sasquatch is beautiful. It’s great, it’s a really privileged life, there are great venues everywhere.

What are your plans in the near future?
It’s pretty hard for me to see anything but the near future. You know, like touring, reality, I guess that. I’d like to keep making music. Every time I’ve been on the road I kind of turn off and I just kind of get into okay performing the songs. I get a little bit on a robotic tip, I don’t do anything else. I think this time I’d like to just sort of keep writing, keep it open, and just think what else I can I do.

-Words and Photos by Lauren Casselberry

The name of Edward Rogers’ second solo album, which arrived in 2008, was You Haven’t Been Where I’ve Been. Having known of Rogers both musically and personally, I was struck by that title. We all have unique stories of course, but some, quite frankly, are more unique than others. Rogers’ was one such story.

Rogers was born in the industrial town of Birmingham, England in the aftermath of the Second World War. As a boy of 12 – when he was coming of age and, among other things, immersing himself in the incredible UK music scene of the times – he moved with his family to America, sailing to the States on a week-long voyage from across the pond. As time went on, Rogers played catch-up with what was going on at “home” while attending high school here in New York. After a brief lull in the mid-Seventies, he was in the right place at the right time when punk hit. He played a peripheral part in that scene, drumming in various bands and hanging out at the venues of the day. He says, “I used to wanna hang around with the CBGB’s crowd… It was Deborah Harry, it was Lenny Kaye…I really wanted to belong to [that scene] but I didn’t know them and I was nowhere close to their musical skill. They were doing it full-time [and] I was still going to school. And the ironic thing is now they’re all my friends.”

In the mid-Eighties, a bizarre accident changed everything. “I was riding on the subway one morning, going to work,” Rogers tells me over lunch. “What happened is, I was running around, pushing too many things at the same time, felt faint but still went to work. When I was feeling faint on the train, the smart thing would have been to either get off or sit on the floor. But of course you don’t wanna embarrass yourself. So I opened the door between the cars and I fell out… Woke up [in the hospital] and they said, ‘Well, you lost part of your leg and your arm.’ I wasn’t supposed to live for the first four days. [But I] beat the odds. I guess God wasn’t ready for me at that point.”

You haven’t been where I’ve been, indeed.

“It took me six months to be able to walk again,” Rogers remembers. “But what came out of it after I got out of rehabilitation was [more] determination in terms of what I wanted to do with my life. It made me more aggressive to maybe try things that I wouldn’t try before… Not just being a fan but also wanting to be more involved in creating my own music [and] getting to know these people that I idolized.”

He couldn’t really drum anymore, but as Rogers is the first to admit, “I wasn’t that good a drummer anyway.” At one point after his recovery, noted producer Tony Visconti pulled him aside and told him as much. What Rogers decided to do instead was what he says: create his own music. He began taking voice lessons and writing songs with local musician and kindred spirit George Usher. Together, they crafted Rogers’ 2004 solo debut, Sunday Fables and, four years later, You Haven’t Been Where I’ve Been. They were joined on these albums by a range of talented artists, including former Byrds leader and 12-string guitar legend Roger McGuinn, as well as multi-instrumentalist Marty Willson-Piper of The Church.

For his third album, the recently released Sparkle Lane (Zip Records), Rogers made his most personal statement yet. Most of the songs are written by him alone and drawn from personal experiences, and there is a notable absence of star power on the album. This hardly works against him though, as Sparkle Lane is a delightful disc from beginning to end. ‘The only problem I had with [the last album] was it was so long doing it that it felt stale to me,” he explains. “That’s why Sparkle Lane had to be me, it had to be without special guests and just really something I could relate to and get out fast.” And he did, as the album arrived less than two years after his last one.

Although not technically a concept album, there is a definite thematic thread running through Sparkle Lane. To me, it brims over with both a penchant for Anglophilia and a sense of lost innocence. The musical backdrops are varied, but the theme of missing and longing for the past courses through nearly the whole album, from the leadoff rocker “Symbols ’n’ Mascots” (a terrific tune) to the semi-psychedelic title track to the witty ballad “Boys in Grey,” about Rogers’ grammar school days, to the upbeat, Kinks-influenced “Slow World.”

Of the title track, Rogers says, “When I was a child, my parents had a sweet shop. And my grandmother lived on Gospel Lane. My parents would work [until about] 7 o’clock. So we’d normally go over there after they closed the shop. And it was dark. In the area, what they did – because materials were hard to come by after the war – was they ground glass into the cement and it would reflect off the lampposts. So as you were walking, as you looked at the pavements, they were like sparkles… I can remember all those moonlight walks [and] how the sparkles were bouncing off the pavements – when it wasn’t raining, of course. So that’s specifically where it came from.”

I would recommend Sparkle Lane not only to fans of good, Anglo-influenced pop but also to anyone who has ever felt displaced or longed to return to a younger, perhaps simpler time. You may not have been exactly where Edward Rogers has been – but you can still appreciate his story and enjoy his songs.

Words by Dave Steinfeld
Photo by Meghan Hickey

It’s an imposing name. Shrinebuilder — it feels epic, hallowed and just damn cool. And it would be completely undeserved if not for the doom metal gods housed inside: bassist/vocalist Al Cisneros of Sleep and OM, drummer Dale Crover of the Melvins and guitarists/vocalists Scott Kelly of Neurosis and Scott “Wino” Weinrich of Saint Vitus, Spirit Caravan and the Hidden Hand.

Although Shrinebuilder has been together for over four years they are only now truly getting things going. They’ve been delayed by the same supergroup status that makes the band so special; forcing band members to work around their principle bands and across great distances to make music. “When we free a spot when we can get some stuff done we just jump on it,” explains Kelly. But finally after all the effort and always having to plan things six months in advance, the project has come to fruition — their self-titled debut dropped in 2009 and they are now starting to tour to support it.

The band always knew Shrinebuilder would be a long-term commitment. Between the four of them they have over 100 years of experience in the music industry: years spent producing records, organizing, and walking in and out of studios. Crover and his band Deaf Nephews were even comfortable enough to produce the record. So when Kelly was asked by Cisneros to join the band over breakfast, he was well aware of exactly how much work he had ahead of him. “We’re all familiar with the sacrifices that have to be made as are all of our families,” he says honestly.

With everyone’s respective bands and the many miles that often separate Shrinebuilder’s members, riffs are generally exchanged remotely. But when the band did meet up for the first time, the chemistry was instant. It was as though there were already long-standing friendships in place, like coming together was just slipping into an old, well-known role. “It was strange, the expectations were there but there wasn’t any doubt,” Kelly says. “I’m so familiar with all of their work; I own everything that all three of those guys have done — literally.”

But there were adjustments to be made. For Cisneros, he was now working with an added element-guitar. OM doesn’t even have a guitarist, let alone two as accomplished as Kelly and Wino. “It’s a different approach in expression,” says Cisneros. “You definitely can hear or envision the sound of two guitars and envision the potential.”

For Kelly, now he was stepping away from the bandmates he had always played with, some of whom he had collaborated with since 1983. “Neurosis…every step we take brings 25 years of our common experience together — every show, every note, every song and that is pretty substantial,” he describes. “So nothing is ever comparable to it in that way, it never will be. Playing with Shrinebuilder is something that is really growing.”

From that growth is their self-titled debut. Shrinebuilder is in no way the sum of its parts. Elements of the members’ other bands are there, but all bounce off each other creating a distinct vibe. Cisneros’s trance-inducing bass has an extra punch behind the loud crack of Crover’s drums. Kelly’s and Wino’s gruff vocals act in tandem, like two personalities of the same man. “It’s all got to be one – unified,” says Cisneros.

The lyrics draw from everyone’s separate styles, making something cryptic but with a burning humanity underneath. “In our requiem/we have cast the stones/they tell us all to sleep,” sings Kelly on “Blind For All to See.” The words come out clear and steady before the momentous, near-psychedelic guitars drag the song into a heavy jam.

Kelly shed some light on their songs. “It’s almost like being a translator. It’s like a tone poem, the words are just presented to you and you just kind of lay them out and make adjustments here and there for content, but the words just seem to be right.”

As impacting as it can be on disc, doom metal is something that needs to be felt — physically, at high volumes. You need to be swept away in the music. As of yet, Shrinebuilder has only played a handful of shows, but are planning several more throughout 2010 and are hitting their stride as a live act. “The last couple of times it was finally starting to become relatively normalized for me, to turn and look and see those guys up there,” says Kelly.

Shrinebuilder’s plans for the future don’t end with touring. The band has already started on a second album, insuring the supergroup lives on. They’ve even started playing some of these new songs at concerts as a solid promise that this isn’t a one-and-out project. “We’re just getting started,” saysCisneros. So after “epic” and “hallowed” you can also gladly say Shrinebuilder is still under construction.

Words by Michael Ronan

Photo by Chrissy Piper

On stage at Music Hall of Williamsburg last week, Denmark’s The Kissaway Trail exuded an incredible, unbridled energy that lit up an unsuspecting crowd of Temper Trap fans (the night’s headliners).  That’s not to say the Danish quintet don’t have their own dedicated fans.  Hitting North American shores this spring, their US debut album, SLEEP MOUNTAIN, has generated substantial buzz.  The band’s epic arrangements and uplifting melodies cascade against nostalgic, melancholy lyrics to create an emotional ebb and flow.

From their sound, to their demeanor, The Kissaway Trail are full of juxtapositions.  When I sat down in a dark, tiny room at the Music Hall of Williamsburg to talk with lead singer, Thomas Fagerlund, and guitarist, Daniel Skjoldmose, shortly before their 9 o’clock set,  I found them to be refreshingly down-to-earth and boyishly shy — quite different from their larger-than-life, raucous stage presence they embodied a few hours later.  The two talked about their bizarre name, their SXSW experience, irksome and never-ending Arcade Fire comparisons, and their quest to NOT wake up.

BRM:  “The Kissaway Trail” has a mysterious air to it. What is the meaning behind the band name?

Thomas: There’s really no meaning behind it. We needed to change our name and we asked some friends, and one came up with The Kissaway Trail. We thought it sounded romantic and beautiful. After that we found out that it’s a flower, but it has no meaning. It’s a name that suited us back then.  We probably wouldn’t have chosen it now, but then it sounded cool.

I read that you guys originally recorded an entire album in 2008, and then scrapped the whole thing and re-recorded.  Why did you decide to redo the album?

Daniel: First of all, it just didn’t feel right.  We were not satisfied with the sound of it. There were some problems with our old manager who wanted us to do different things on the album, and stuff like that. So we took a break, and after that we got together and we decided to do it by ourselves. We rented a studio for 12 days and recorded the whole thing one more time.

And you guys are happy with the way it came out?

Thomas: Yeah definitely.

After the experience of recording and releasing your first debut album, were there things you hoped to improve or expand upon this time around with this release?

Thomas: When we recorded the first album we didn’t know each other that well and we didn’t know that it was going to be an album. So this time we wanted to make an album that had a red line, if you know what I mean. We wanted it to sound like an album, not just like 12 songs. And we wanted to keep a red line in the sound sources, like the same kind of piano sound, and the keyboard sounds, and the drums and bass. And we wanted a professional mixer to mix the album, so we got Peter Katis (The National, Frightened Rabbit). We just wanted to sound professional, because the first album was lo-fi.

What would you say is the overall theme of SLEEP MOUNTAIN?

Thomas: I just turned 26 last year, so it has a lot to do with being young and being a teenager. And there are some political views, not worldwide, but in our country. There are a lot of things going on, or there were a lot of things going on when we wrote the album, there were a lot of riots. And it’s about love, and the kind of people that we are.
Daniel: It’s like a celebration of all the artists, and people who are creative.
Thomas: And who are strong enough to be different. And SLEEP MOUNTAIN is kind of like a calling to keep dreaming, keep reaching your goals, and don’t grow up and be boring like our folks.
Daniel: Actually like the song on the album, “Don’t Wake Up,” means keep dreaming, you don’t have to wake up.

I was just going to ask if that’s what that song was about.

Do either of you have a favorite song on the album or one that your most proud of?

Thomas: I think that the song “New Lipstick” is the song that I’m most proud of, not because I think it’s the best song, but it’s a song that reminds me of my dad because he bought me the mandolin that I’m playing it on. And it’s the first song where I started to write about things that weren’t boy/girl love, so yeah.
Thomas: What’s yours? (Asking Daniel)
Daniel: I don’t know it changes from day to day. I like to play them all.

How would you define your sound?

Daniel: Melodic.
Thomas: Yeah it’s songs with good melodies and hooks, and they’re songs you have to hear more then once.
Daniel: It’s a huge, epic sound with a lot of energy in it. You still have the sadness, and you still get the feelings but…
Thomas: Yeah, it’s sad but it’s positive at the same time.
Daniel: The music is fast, it’s up-tempo, it makes you happy, but the lyrics are sad.

So it has a sense of hope?

Daniel: Exactly.  Good wording, thank you.
Thomas: We’ll use that in another interview!

Did you guys have fun in Austin at SXSW?

Thomas: Not as much as we had last time. As I told you before, I turned 26, and he’s [Daniel] 26. The first time we were there in 2007, it’s not that long ago, we drank a lot. So this time we tried not to drink that much, and drank water. We had to do so many shows and interviews so we were tired and just wanted to go home and sleep. It was nice being back, we love SXSW, but not as fun as last time.

Daniel: Yeah, not in the same way. It was not all about partying. Last time we only played one show, and we were there for the whole week. This time we played 7 shows, and some of the time we played 2 shows in one day, and had like 10 interviews. And the sun was burning, but it was nice. We just got really tired, because we pushed ourselves to the limit every time we played because, it’s so important for us to just give people an experience.

I’m sure you hate this question, but do the constant comparisons to Arcade Fire bother you guys?

Thomas: Um, it doesn’t bother us. It bothers us that people write negative things about us because they think that we sound like Arcade Fire. We think that music is about writing good songs so it’s a shame that they have to write stupid things because they say that we sound like Arcade Fire. Arcade Fire is a cool band, and it’s fine with us.
Daniel: I mean we get compared to them a lot, but in 10 years other band will be compared to us. That’s how it works. One of the things that’s the most annoying about all the reviews and Arcade Fire and us is when a writer says that he can hear that our inspiration is Arcade Fire, because it’s not. There’s no band who is the inspiration — I mean there is, but it’s not the music, it’s the feeling that we get from that band. That’s why we play music, because we want to make that same feeling that we get. Mostly it’s the music that we grew up with, you know the Beach Boys and stuff like that. That’s why we play music, that’s how the whole thing started.

Is there a specific reaction you hope people have to your music? Like in terms of a message, feeling, or impact?

Thomas: Yeah just like you said before, hope. I want them to feel happy and sad at the same time. I want them to rock their
head, rock their body, and feel the same way same way that I do when I write the music or the lyrics. And not take it so seriously, like all the stupid reviewers do.  Just listen to it and smile, yeah.

Do you guys have long-term goals for yourselves as a band?

Thomas: No not really, it’s one day at a time. There’s no one in the band that has an education or who has been to school for that long, so we just want to play music and see how far we can go. If it doesn’t work out well then we’ll play music anyway. How far will you take it (asking Daniel)?
Daniel: The whole way. This is our dream, and we don’t want to wake up!
Thomas: Yeah The Kissaway Trail don’t want to wake up.  It’s for free.

The Kissaway Trail Interview by Lauren Casselberry
Photos by Lauren Casselberry