The Fencemen’s ‘More More More More Monuments’ EP & A Remembrance

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The Fencemen’s More More More More Monuments EP is now available to stream on the usual outlets and is also available for purchase via iTunes. Recorded in 2013, it’s not new music per se, but this is the first time it’s been made public.

Regular readers may recall that I contributed some sounds to “Rented Rooms” on The Fencemen’s debut album Times Are Alright. I joined the band shortly after the album’s completion, playing on all songs during live shows. I remain thankful that they allowed and welcomed me into the circle, both musically and personally. The band eventually ended but the friendships remained.

While very little of that live material was captured, I did participate in the writing and recording process for what ultimately became More More More More Monuments, a mostly hard-driving collection of songs that built upon the gritty, catchy aesthetic of Times Are Alright. The EP’s songs, title, and recording were set in 2013 but it was never released. An unmastered copy of the 2013 mix has been in my library under the title The Lost EP ever since. I’ve regularly listened to it, wishing others would one day get a chance to hear it. The time has finally come.

I’m proud of both what we created as well as having played a small role in it. On a specific and personal musical note, I was glad that it captured, on some level, a bit of my preferred approach to the “rock sax” conundrum—to be more of a second guitarist than an alternate melodic voice that just occasionally solos (in an often stylistically jarring way). (More on that here and here.) I’m also glad that my wife could contribute some added sonic texture, playing viola on “O Golden Spike.”

Curiously, regarding the saxophone itself, despite the songs being nearly a decade old, the EP is out at an interesting time, as the saxophone has gradually been seeping back into indie, pop, and dance music in recent years. Monuments is a fitting complement to such a trend, even if it was recorded well before it.

All that said, the circumstances surrounding the EP’s completion and release are unfortunate. Tyler Blakslee, The Fencemen’s lead singer, lyricist, and general creative force, tragically and unexpectedly passed away a couple of weeks ago. (A touching tribute by Sean Hoen is here.) Getting this mastered and released is a tribute to him. He and Dan Jaquint (drums, engineering) continued working on the EP over the years, including very recently, and Dan moved mountains to quickly push it over the finish line amidst the grief.

Not only did Dan just “get it done,” but this final mastered mix sounds wholly different—in the best way—from the old mix I’ve been listening to for ~9 years. It’s aggressive and alive. I love it.

This past spring marked a decade since I officially met and befriended Tyler. (We met once socially a couple years prior, but the 2012 (re-)introduction sealed the deal.) We were fast friends and, although our interests weren’t always aligned, we shared an intense passion for what we liked and could appreciate such when hearing one another rave about this or that cultural artifact. I knew that any time I saw Tyler I would need to bring my conversational A-game and be ready to volley myriad niche references back and forth. We had many great times and made some wonderful memories over the years.

Regarding the Monuments EP specifically, I vividly remember one writing and brainstorming session Tyler and I had at my house—just the two of us in my office sketching out ideas for what would become the song “Rackets.” That evening was emblematic of much of our relationship. We started out by discussing his ideas and working to establish a direction to realize what he heard in his mind’s ear. When I sketched out some skeletal sounds on my horn and (quite old) keyboard, he was clearly displeased with the lack of effects and varied sounds at my immediate disposal. (His attention to detail was always 110%, part of what kept Monuments in the dark for so long.) I kept telling him it’d work on guitar or bass or whatever, but he was skeptical. (He was eventually satisfied when he heard the others playing off those same ideas at a rehearsal.) Ultimately we made progress creatively and he felt like we accomplished something. Afterward we spent some time just listening to music and talking and laughing about this or that movie, show, or book.

More More More More Monuments may have sentimental value for me, but I think it’s a powerful creative statement in and of itself. It’s also a monument to our friend.

‘Just Answer the Question’ – a Thinking Podcast with Alice Dreger

I’ve been working on a project since the beginning of the year and it’s finally ready to see the light of day, so I’d like to share a bit about it should you be interested. It’s different from the usual ground I’ve covered here and elsewhere over the years.

Just Answer the Question is a thinking podcast created and hosted by Alice Dreger, the esteemed writer, historian, and speaker. (She also happens to be a friend, former neighbor, and now colleague.) I’m the producer*, and I also provide original music for the show. For a little more background on how this came to be, see Alice’s newsletter on the topic.

Just Answer the Question logo

Yes, I know, seemingly everyone has a podcast these days. (Oddly enough, my previous post was about my guesting on another show.) There’s a lot of content out there, maybe even too much, and we hope to create a thoughtful space separate from the news cycle and whatever the controversy du jour may be. From the show’s website:

For each episode of Just Answer the Question, we take one question and use it like a corkscrew to open a bottle of intellectual wine that we then share with three helpers. Some podcasts call their visitors “guests,” but we consider ours “helpers,” because they help us think through our questions by sharing their experiences, research, and insights.

After we’ve recorded conversations with our episode-specific helpers, our creator Alice Dreger and producer Mike Teager then use the recordings as primary sources to compose episodes that take you through a guided tour of the exploration of our central question. Alice contributes short essays and narrative glue, while Mike contributes original musical framing. Our goal is to give you somewhere around an hour of time to think, feel, remember, laugh, listen, and examine the threads that weave through our lives. Our hope is that we help you enjoy this big collaboration as much as we do.

– JATQ website

You can also watch our promo video on our website and Twitter.

The podcast is free and the first three episodes are available now on all main directories with more in the pipeline. New episodes should appear about every ~3 weeks.

We’ve recorded conversations with many compelling, thoughtful folks already—some you may have heard of and others who may be new to you. But regardless of name recognition, the discussions have been consistently rich and engaging.

We also offer additional content via a paid subscription. This is known as the Tangent Tier. For $5 per month, you can access the long-form interviews from which we pull excerpts for the main (free) podcast episodes. We may ultimately only use ~15 minutes or so of a given interview for an episode, but we often talk with our helpers for ~40-60 minutes each, and much is left on the cutting-room floor. For those interested in more of the “two people talking” format, this is that (compared to the more produced format of Just Answer the Question).

If you’re interested in the Tangent Tier, more info is here and you can subscribe here. And since the first three main episodes are now available, the accompanying Tangent Tier installments are too. (Nine of them, to be exact: three for each episode.)

The first three episodes are as follows:
– “What’s have I done?” — An examination of how we take stock of our lives: as a continuous narrative or as a series of episodes. Featuring discussions with bioethicist Dr. Tod Chambers and psychologists Dr. Dan McAdams and Dr. Jonathan Adler.
– “What’s it like to play me?” — A look at role-playing, including as oneself in different contexts. Featuring discussions with radio personality and playwright Peter Sagal, actress Jennifer Riker, and narrator and audio artist Tavia Gilbert.
– “Can a father be a mother?” — Reflections on being a primary caregiver. Featuring discussions with journalist and The Company of Dads founder Paul Sullivan, psychologist Dr. Jonathan Adler, and yours truly.

Do give a listen to the podcast if it sounds like something you’d like to explore.

Relevant links:
Just Answer the Question website
Subscribe to the podcast via Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon, Google Podcasts, and more…
Subscribe to the Tangent Tier here

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*As for my being the producer, I’m reminded of a line from one of my favorite movies, Get Shorty, delivered by a confident Chili Palmer: “I don’t think the producer has to know much.”

In all seriousness, when Alice first asked me about collaborating on this, I was (and am) beyond flattered, and I admitted that I knew very little (i.e., nothing) about producing generally and podcast production specifically. That said, in addition to being friends, we knew that we liked working together when I used to report for East Lansing Info. So we used that and our shared penchant for organization as a starting point, and here we are. The learning curve has been and remains steep but rewarding.

Talking Parenting on ‘The Company of Dads’ Podcast

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A bit of a different post here. In addition to the wide net of artistic-related concerns this (neglected) blog is concerned with, I have occasionally delved into personal matters such as priorities, family, and work. However, considering there are ~250 posts on this site, “personal” writing is in the extreme minority.

In October of 2021, my good friend Alice Dreger virtually introduced me to the then-outgoing New York Times columnist Paul Sullivan. He had just published his final “Wealth Matters” column, one that outed his other job: that of being the primary caregiver to his three daughters. Or, as he calls it, being a Lead Dad. He announced that he was leaving the NYT to focus on building a community of other Lead Dads in order to both raise awareness of and normalize the role. His column deeply resonated with me, and Paul and I lightly kept in touch as I followed his launching The Company of Dads.

(I should note that Alice, in addition to being my friend and former neighbor, was also the primary caregiver to her son, a role that we’ve continually bonded over through the years, which is why she thought to introduce me to Paul.)

In February he asked to interview me for his podcast, and we got along swimmingly. The episode (#11) is out today. I was very surprised to be asked, considering the guests he’s already featured, but I’m happy to discuss my parenting experience, especially with those in a similar role. We continue to stay in touch, and I’m grateful that we’ve been able to connect.

I don’t know how much of our original talk will be included—we spoke for a while and covered a lot of ground. There’s was a little music talk, but the focus was really on the role of primary parent and Lead Dad*. We discussed parenting and how that’s juggled with family generally, work, music, volunteering, and more. And, I don’t know if this made the cut, but we did touch on our shared childhood love of professional wrestling as well as my renewed interest in it over the last couple years. (Speaking of which, the 30th anniversary of my first live event was just a couple weeks ago, and I’m going to my first live event in decades next week.)

If you’re at all interested in the discussion or the topic generally, give it a listen. I really value what Paul is doing with the Company of Dads, and I look forward to seeing where it goes.

The episode is available via Apple Podcasts, YouTube (where you can sneak my River of Fundament poster in the mirror, and you can also see me hunched over because of awkward mic and camera positioning), and wherever else you may get your podcasts.

I’ve been repping the Company of Dads both from my home office as well as at gigs:

Working on a forthcoming project, with a hint of Redoubt poster in the background.
Staying hydrated in a pit.

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*Admittedly, I do have a little hesitancy around the term because I’ve always just seen myself as “the parent” instead of “the dad,” likely because I was raised by a single mom who essentially fulfilled both roles. But that’s just me and my own experience, and it’s another tale for another time..

Ethan Iverson & Tom Harrell at Buffalo’s Kleinhans Music Hall

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After a two-year postponement, pianist Ethan Iverson and trumpeter Tom Harrell came to Buffalo for their duo concert at Kleinhans Music Hall’s Mary Seaton Room. Originally scheduled for March 2020, this was the first concert on my calendar to be pushed back or canceled outright due to COVID-19 restrictions. (With Chicago’s Ring Cycle being the second…) Now, more than two years later, it was the first acoustic jazz concert I’ve seen as an audience member since then. This was my first time seeing either musician perform live and hopefully not the last.

(For additional context, a pre-concert interview is here.)

The concert was a compelling 80-minute journey through the The Tradition via The American Songbook and a couple of Harrell originals. An “evening of standards” can go in many directions (good and bad), and the duo deftly navigated the musical waters in a way that was consistently refreshing. On the one hand, their approach was traditional: recognizable tunes, clear melodic lines, alternating solos within the prescribed forms. However, within that rubric there was much variety: harmonic and rhythmic exploration, stylistic wandering (with Iverson occasionally drawing on European classical influences), a wide textural range—notable considering the duo format.

The 11-song set was pretty evenly divided. Each piece was several minutes in length, and I don’t think there was one instance of someone soloing for more than two consecutive choruses. The set ran The Tradition’s gamut, from medium-tempo numbers (“Sentimental Journey,” “I’m Getting Sentimental Over You,” “I Remember You”), to blues (“Philadelphia Creamer,” an Iverson original), to up-tempo swing (“All The Things You Are,” Harrell’s “Improv”), rhythm changes (“Wee”), ballads (“I Can’t Get Started,” “The Man I Love”), and modern fare (Harrell’s “Journey To The Stars”). (Full disclosure: I am missing one title, as there was one tune I couldn’t name.) Many of the tunes are featured on 2019’s Common Practice (ECM), a fun album that showcases Iverson and Harrell in a quartet setting. But the duo format put those same pieces in a new relief, and it nicely highlighted Harrell’s more intimate, understated approach.

Harrell spent most of the evening on flugelhorn, which was a real treat. His full, warm sound complemented the piano nicely. He did play trumpet on two or three occasions in the latter half of the set, but not for a full tune. I appreciated his approach to melodies—straightforward but not plain, providing a nice contrast to his more searching improvisations. His two originals were nice additions. “Improv” was a post bop romp that fit right in with the evening’s standards theme. And “Journey to the Stars” went perhaps the farthest astray from that same theme, with Iverson’s arpeggiated harmonies* and Harrell’s haunting lines.

Given the duo setting, especially when paired with a monodic instrument, Iverson had his work cut out for him and more than rose to the occasion. He was often a one-man rhythm section and sometimes even a one-man horn section. And his melodic approach was diverse, from his borderline shout chorus on “I Remember You” (which sounded like a horn soli) to his crystalline single-note lines and everything in between. His bouncy, bluesy clusters on “Sentimental Journey” filled the hall, and his sparse melodic lines on “I Can’t Get Started” showcased Iverson’s expansive textural range. (And for those familiar with Iverson’s writing, particularly on jazz standards, he practices what he preaches: his playing evinces a keen interplay between the bass and melody, with more emphasis on counterpoint than “chord scales.”)

My only complaint is that the performance didn’t last longer, but it’s better than the alternative. The concert was more than worth the wait. My only hope is that it won’t be another two years until I can see either artist again.

Ethan Iverson and Tom Harrell on April 8, 2022
(photograph by me)

Also, it was nice to briefly meet Ethan Iverson after the concert. He’s just as friendly in person as online (where I occasionally tweet at him, usually about Keith Jarrett).

*I should admit, with apologies to the artists, that Iverson’s arpeggiating briefly reminded me of Collective Soul’s “December,” which proved distracting for a few seconds. Not that Collective Soul invented such arpeggiation—far from it—but that’s where my mind took me. Ah well…

Back in the Audience

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Like many others, I’m thankful to finally be part of audiences again. Even though I had (outdoor) gigs all the while, albeit far fewer than originally planned, I went ~18+ months without attending a show as an audience member. Of course, I’m not the only one. (I can’t dwell on it without getting too upset, but I must again note my extreme disappointment over not seeing Chicago’s latest Ring Cycle come to fruition.) While the “return” was notable in and of itself, I’m fortunate that I happened to end the drought with the biggest of bangs. My first four post-pandemic concerts were:

King Crimson @ The Egg in Albany, NY (08.22.21)
Sun Ra Arkestra @ Asbury Hall in Buffalo, NY (09.02.21)
Dave Matthews Band @ Saratoga Performing Arts Center in Saratoga Springs, NY (09.17.21)
Dave Matthews Band @ Saratoga Performing Arts Center in Saratoga Springs, NY (09.18.21)

Some random notes on each.

King Crimson @ The Egg in Albany, NY (08.22.21)
Oh. My. Goodness. (Honestly, this show is the primary reason for this post, just to lightly memorialize it if nothing else.) Two things to note right up front. First, I went into this show completely blind. I’ve long been aware of King Crimson, and I have a couple of Robert Fripp‘s ambient records with reedman Theo Travis, but I didn’t know any of KC’s work well enough to really recognize or discuss it to any extent. (Being such a big Tool fan, I of course had at least a general familiarity with KC.) Second, I walked out a complete convert. At intermission I was blown away, and by the show’s end I considered it probably one of the ten best shows I’ve ever seen. (With a little distance, and a little less recency bias, I maintain that opinion. It was astounding.) To top it off, what a great venue.

This was an invite-only Friends & Family show, and I happened to be the +1 of my friend Dave, who suggested I go and said I’d love it. (Thank again, Dave!) I had also been told as much by one of my very best friends who’s seen King Crimson a couple times (and, like me, I think he went in mostly blind at first). I’m so glad I accepted the invite and made the drive. Given the Friends & Family atmosphere, it was an intimate audience of ~200 superfans, and the band performed two full sets (with intermission) plus an encore, longer than a typical show with an opening act. Additionally, I’m sure it was also the first concert in a long while for many in the audience.

From the first note to the last, I was fully engaged. I truly didn’t know what to expect, especially considering the saxes and flutes I saw on stage before the show began. (I tend to get leery when I see such because saxophones in a rock, even progressive rock, context can be hit or miss. I’m often sensitive about that for obvious reasons.) But everything fit, and the whole was definitely greater than the sum of its formidable parts. I was regularly at a loss as to what was composed and arranged versus what was improvised, and I mean that as a compliment. The current lineup—and I assume its predecessors too—is a tight, cohesive unit, which is saying something for a septet that includes three drummers. To me, the music was a perfect blend of many styles and approaches to music I hold dear: the power of rock, the improvisatory elements of jazz (“Neurotica” sounded like something out of 1980s-flavored electric post-bop, and I wanted to inject it directly into my veins), and the structural elements of classical. (Saxophonist Mel Collins’s off-the-cuff quotation of “Take The A Train” during the fast section of either “Starless” or “21st Century Schizoid Man” was a nice touch.) Were it not for the applause of the surrounding acolytes, I wouldn’t have known where most pieces ended or began. And, to top it all off, Tony Levin‘s virtuosity made me, for the first time in my life, appreciate the Chapman stick as an instrument.

I still grin whenever I think of this concert, which is often. I’ve spent the last couple months digging into the King Crimson discography and history, and I’ve already pre-ordered the official live bootleg of this North American tour which includes some selections from the Albany performance. I can safely say that I’m now and forever will be in the court of the Crimson King…

Go here for a little writeup on the show by David Singleton.

(That evening’s set list, which I’ve used as a starting point for my KC excursions, is here.)

Sun Ra Arkestra @ Asbury Hall in Buffalo, NY (09.02.21)
Similar to King Crimson, Sun Ra‘s music has long been one of my blind spots. I’ve heard some tunes here and there and had a baseline understanding of the late bandleader and his legacy, but I never really dug into the music itself. As for the current lineup, I knew that bandleader and alto saxophonist Marshall Allen had celebrated his 97th birthday over the summer, but that was about it. For some reason I was unaware of this show until shortly before it happened, but I was fortunately able to purchase a ticket. (It looked sold out the night of the show, which was a pleasant surprise.) This particular concert, like many, had been postponed because of the pandemic. To top it off, the concert was at Babeville’s Asbury Hall, the venue in which I was married. (Between this concert at 2019’s Jenny Lewis show, I have a good streak of happy memories at the venue.)

Again, I didn’t really know what to expect other than for the music to be a bit out. I was completely unprepared in the best way, and I was hooked from the first few bars. The evening’s music was an intriguing blend of swinging blues, shout-chorus horn arrangements, unbridled joy, and uncompromising free playing. And, much to my pleasant surprise, Marshall Allen stood and played his heart out all through both sets. I’m so glad I was fortunate to see this incarnation of the group while some of the older members are still performing.

Dave Matthews Band @ Saratoga Performing Arts Center in Saratoga Springs, NY (09.17.21 & 09.18.21)
And of course, a return to concert attendance wouldn’t be complete without a DMB show or two, and it was nice to return to SPAC. (Night two was my 75th show.) What a great weekend all around, as a best friend and I got a rental and made quite the time of it—it definitely felt like a return to some semblance of “normal.” The shows themselves were excellent, and the band sounded particularly tight both nights. I enjoyed what seemed to be quite the rib: keyboardist Buddy Strong was playing violin synth patches in parts he hadn’t been his first couple years with the band, and Dave had a little grin most times he did it. I’d like to think it was the band’s way of replying to former member and violinist Boyd Tinsley’s then-recent odd (and slightly unhinged) Twitter activity, but of course I can’t prove it. (For example, since Tinsley’s departure from the band, the violin part during the introduction of “Pig” has been played by trumpeter Rashawn Ross, whereas that night Buddy Strong played a synthesized violin on keys. It was the best the fiddle ever sounded on “Pig” during a live show.) I hope it’s not a permanent change/reversion, but I was entertained by it throughout the weekend.

Though the band itself was on fire both nights, I thought Friday’s set list was one of the odder ones I’ve seen. It was almost as if someone pulled up the DMB discography and hit “shuffle” while also throwing in a few covers. (For reference, the set list is here.) My friend and I remarked to one another multiple times throughout the night the set was odd—not bad, just sort of the off the wall. Saturday’s set list, however, was one for the history books, featuring arguably one of the best main sets I’ve seen the band play. (Perhaps one more song in the encore could’ve really pushed it over the top, but that’s me being greedy.) Save one new song (“Ocean and the Butterfly”), everything else was from 2008 or before. (Bassist Stefan Lessard’s hat that read “Old Style” wasn’t kidding.)

On top of it all, Saturday’s audience was one of the hottest crowds I’ve been a part of for a DMB show. SPAC is generally a hardcore audience anyway, but throw in a forced year off and a noteworthy opening run of songs, and it was like a spark in dry grass. One powerful moment for me was during “Grey Street” on Saturday night. We knew that the third verse returned this year, but the crowd’s explosion at the start of that verse was almost overwhelming. Such an indelible imprint. The audience took the reins in other spots also, eliciting the infrequent “Louie Louie” interpolation from Dave during “Warehouse,” among other things. I can safely place the Saturday show in my top 10 DMB shows, possibly higher. It was certainly the best one I’ve seen in several years.