Witch Egg- Witch Egg

 

There are times where a band name can be both illuminating and obfuscating at the same time. I find this to especially be the case when it comes to psychedelic and experimental music. The Grateful Dead is very evocative and lets you know there's going to be something otherworldly about their music, yet if you listen to Workingman's Dead you'll find the moniker confusing—shouldn't this have been made by a band called Mother McCree's Uptown Jug Champions? Similarly, groups like sunn O))) and Nurse With Wound signpost it's not going to be something especially digestible, but if you had no knowledge of what kind of music they make, you might assume they're an ambient and a hardcore punk band, respectively. While the ever-changing moniker of John Dwyer's main band, Osees, has nothing to do with the sound of the band over the decades, his side project names are squarely in the illuminating/obfuscating category. So it is with Witch Egg. Of course, a cursory Google search will reveal two possible origins of the name. Witch's Egg is the nickname for the Stinkhorn mushroom, in particular its immature egg-shaped fruiting body. The Witch's Egg, by contrast, is a children's book from 1974, summarized by user AbigailAdams26 on LibraryThing.com as the following:

“Agatha was a nasty old witch who lived alone in an abandoned eagle's nest on the top of Lost Mountain...[O]ne day a cuckoo's egg was left in her nest, and the cantankerous witch decided she would hatch it, in defiance of the mother birds who offered to take it off her hand...[R]aising Witchbird, Agatha learned to enjoyed [sic] the company of another being, and for the first time she was happy. Then in the fall Witchbird left for the south, and Agatha went back to her solitary life. Was it the end of their friendship, or would Witchbird return...?”

For all I know, though, Dwyer arrived at this name independently of these two sources. So let's put an end to this preamble and get to the good stuff. Witch Egg was released January 22, 2021 as the highly anticipated second entry in the improv side projects. Much to my surprise I found I had missed that Witch Egg had more than one release, so maybe I should ignore what I said in the Bent Arcana review about these not really being band names and moreso album names. I will be maintaining the use of italicization to indicate the album and not the band during this review. But I digress. Witch Egg's second release was a live album, simply titled Live, put out only on cassette on October 21, 2022. It captures a short four song set from August 6, 2022 featuring the full album lineup. (They opened for Flipper, which is sure a weird contrast!) There are no current plans to further release it on streaming services or other physical formats. While I couldn't find an upload of the cassette there is thankfully a HD recording of the entire show on YouTube: https://youtu.be/T2Lbm0OFcz4

Let's get back to Witch Egg, which has a smaller, different lineup than Bent Arcana:

John Dwyer- guitars & much more

Nick Murray- drums

Greg Coates- acoustic bass

Tomas Dolas- keyboards/synths

Brad Caulkins- saxophones

Nick Murray, of course, was a member of Osees for the post-Drop tour and the Mutilator Defeated At Last album, as well as the OCS 'reunion' record Memory Of A Cut Off Head. Greg Coates seems to be one of those under the radar musicians who plays a lot of random local shows where he lives, including a somewhat recent Soundgarden/Chris Cornell tribute show according to his Instagram.

On first listen, Witch Egg isn't too different from Bent Arcana. I feel that with more revisits, however, there's a real day/night, sativa/indica, Ocarina Of Time/Majora's Mask divide going on between the two records. You may have noticed that the lineup has an entirely different rhythm section, and this is the Rosetta Stone to beginning to understand where the differences come in. Nick Murray is more of a light handed drummer than Ryan Sawyer or the Osees duo of Paul Quattrone and Dan Rincon. His playing features a snare-forward, skittering, drum-rolls-and-cymbal-crashes sound that is founded more in traditional psychedelic rock and jazz-fusion. Greg Coates, meanwhile, exclusively plays acoustic bass on this record, while, interestingly, Dwyer contributes the electric bass parts, such as on 'City Maggot' (you can tell; his playing is tentative and a bit flat by comparison). Coates lacks the slippery elasticity of Peter Kerlin's playing style though his acoustic bass (and use of a bow at times) give Witch Egg part of its unique jazzy texture. I've always liked acoustic bass with an otherwise electric/amplified/woodwinds improv-heavy band, such as heard in early Medeski Martin & Wood.

The best way I can more tangibly explain the sound change from Bent Arcana is that Witch Egg as a whole has more of a jazz-forward, spacey/cosmic focus, de-emphasizing the rock, krautrock, and psychedelic/experimental elements. Outside of the rhythm section personnel turnover, the other huge change is that John Dwyer's guitar is either absent for most of the album or used as more of a background texture. Seriously, go back and pay close attention to this record and I don't think he plays a single solo or lead line! More intangibly, meanwhile, I would say Witch Egg has a hazy, late night, and eerie vibe going on, though you wouldn't know it at first.

Opener 'Greener Pools' jumps to life with a bellowing bassline and cacophony of saxophone/keyboard/guitar before quieting down into a spacey, drumless ending that segues immediately into 'City Maggot' led by Brad Caulkins' screeches and honks. 'Your Hatless Friend' maintains a low-gear chilly groove that isn't funky but makes you want to tap on the steering wheel or desk, with saxophones breathing in and out at the edges of the music, the full-band pulse gradually increasing while keyboards/synths quietly stir up the background fireflies. Suddenly all is dispelled by a chunky guitar strum that is a bit abrupt and awkward, if I'm being honest.

Side two turns down the lights even further. 'Baphomet', aptly named after an occult deity with a goat's head, has a deep, frightening synthesizer line that howls echoingly at you like a creature opening its multiple maws to begin the song that announces the end of the world. The free-floating 'Sekhu' feels like you're in the long dark of the Mines Of Moria, trying to spy apparitions in the foggy darkness, ending with a comfortingly traditional jazz bass solo. Finally, 'Arse' and 'On Your Way Now' cap off the mostly-mellow-yet-sometimes-menacing record. The former has an oddly catchy ascending saxophone line and a gibbering wordless vocal that reverberates in the backdrop, as if you're turning a corner and coming upon a ceremony being performed before it's all washed away by a staticky synthesizer. 'On Your Way Now' starts with a cycling keyboard line and a bass-heavy groan nodding back to 'Baphomet' before a dusty dusk shuffle kicks in led by airy saxophone leads and slow motion drumming. I always picture incense trails or maybe smoke from freshly blown out candles wafting in the air when I hear this song. Faint arcane babbling and Nick Murray's echoing snare hits see us out the door.

If I listen to Witch Egg more than Bent Arcana, it's only because I love how much it simultaneously narrows/focuses the sonic palette while also having a unique vibe and sound all of its own. Aside from Damaged Bug, it's rare to hear Dwyer play so little guitar, and the spacey, late night jazz atmosphere of the record really implants itself into your subconscious. Listen to it a few times in the right mood and setting and it'll infuse into your goosebumps and the hair on the back of your neck. For those who prefer In A Silent Way and Can's 'Future Days' and 'Quantum Physics' to Bitches Brew and Tago Mago, you may find Witch Egg to be one of your new favorite albums. Hell, even setting aside these pedantic preference discussions, it can become so. I know it did for me.

The Grateful Dead

You'd be hard pressed to name a more cult-like, divisive band than The Grateful Dead. I feel like, whether or not you're a fan, it's one of those ways you know you have a true musical connection with someone if their opinion lines up with your's.

I happen to be a sort of recovering closet Grateful Dead fan. I suppose Animal Collective talking about them in the press and using the first ever authorized Dead sample on the song 'What Would I Want? Sky' gave me courage to finally admit it, though I think I had long since accepted and embraced my love for the band. It was round about the time my manager at my current job said he loved his parents' vintage vinyl copy of one of their weird 60s/70s albums (Blues For Allah or maybe Aoxomoxoa based on his description).

Still, their live shows are definitely where it's at when it comes to Deadhead-dom, even as fine as Workingman's Dead and American Beauty are. You'll rarely come across a fan who doesn't think the band's best material was during their first decade-or-so, spanning from roughly 1966 to their 1975 'hiatus' year. Not that all Dead post-'75 is dreadful, but it certainly gets less compelling as it goes, at least in my opinion.

This live show, I'm about to link below, is only the second set of this night's concert, and demonstrates only about half of the band's variety, missing some of the bluegrass and country/folk influences of releases like the live-with-studio-over-dubs Europe '72. Hmm perhaps versatility is a better word than variety, then. Anyway, this set opens with 'They Love Each Other', which I'm more familiar with in a slower, funkier setting from the legendary show on May 8, 1977. I like this leaner, cleaner, R&B-ier version even better...reminds me of what Credence Clearwater Revival or even 1969/1970 era Velvet Underground might do with it. And as for this insanely long performance of 'Dark Star', well, there's a part around the 28 minute mark which is as experimental and abrasive as anything you've heard before. As anyone who's cool enough to listen to Live/Dead knows, this band actually had some noisy shit going on from time to time--by which I refer to the aptly titled seven minute track 'Feedback', every bit as dissonant and groundbreaking as anything off White Light/White Heat. Or Animal Collective's first few albums.

Oh, anyway, here's the link to show, man. Just remember you owe me a dimebag and some rolling papers next time I see you: http://stash.nugs.net/attics/frames.asp?page=/vault/show.asp&artist=1&show=60&cmd=shows

Great Album Covers: Live/Dead

Far from the stereotypical psychedelic motifs the band is known for, the cover for the Grateful Dead's landmark Live/Dead is rich with details and oblique, almost medieval symbols. The woman rising from a wooden coffin seems Christian, right down to the red and white cross on the right, but the middle symbol, closely inspected, is a triangle inside a square. What's more, the tip of the tincture she's holding has a Star Of David on it.

Note the incredible detail in the leaf-like patterns of the backgrounds. Note the way the coffin casts a shadow yet the woman does not. Sure, this could just be to make "Live" legible, but it could also be that she's a ghost or spirit of some sort.

I think I'm putting too much thought into this. Pass the cookies, man.

Album Of The Week: The Grateful Dead- Europe '72

My hope is that, as more time passes, the new people getting into the Grateful Dead will hear them without any of the baggage associated with them. When the band was still kicking around in the 80s and 90s, they were always seen as harmless and toothless holdovers from an era and youth culture that had long since passed. A band of hippies, but worse, they were also yawn inducing noodlers who's music was only interesting when you were stoned or tripping. But after Jerry Garcia's death and the subsequent re-flowering of the jam band scene in the late 90s, focus was taken off the Dead as the center of the "I hate hippies and their music sucks" mentality. Open minded people began to go back to the band's music and discovered a band who, in their prime, were every bit as worthy of the critical praise and commercial success of "classic rock" contemporaries like The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, et al.

Europe '72 is probably the best introduction to the band's music as a whole. Workingman's Dead and American Beauty are their best studio releases, but due to their stripped down country/folk/blues style, they aren't very representative of what the band sounded like live. As for the essential Live/Dead, surely one of the greatest albums of all time (let alone live albums), well, it's definitely got too much of the psychedelic improvisation and not enough traditional songs. Europe '72 strikes a great balance between the more song oriented first disc and the wide open vistas of second; that said, we now know that the band went back in to touch up their vocals, in studio, so this release isn't technically a true live document. But since the Dead's vocals could often be rough live, it made this release better to include their more honed studio harmonies as learned from Crosby, Stills, & Nash and first demonstrated on the Workingman's Dead album.

I would suspect that a lot of people who hate the Dead, or think they do, have never listened to their stuff from before the 80s. Roughly the band's first decade is almost universally excellent, and those who think of the Dead as harmless noodlers will be shocked by the electric acid freak outs of their first few years. By the time of their famous European tour in 1972, the band had also began to mix in their country/blues/folk influences, as well as newer original material that had an Americana or pre-rock era mythos to it, whether it be the famous 'Casey Jones', their takes on standards like 'Samson & Delilah', or a pastiche like 'Greatest Story Ever Told.' Live/Dead and their pre-'71 era may have gotten me into the band, but once I began to appreciate their songs as much as their extended improvisation and segues, Europe '72 was what made me stop apologizing for loving the band. I honestly believe that the Dead were one of the greatest American bands of all time, and I say that as someone who many would describe as a hipster with a record store clerk's penchant for modern, "indie rock" music and obscure old stuff. But I digress.

Europe '72 plays like a sampler of everything that Deadheads love. It doesn't feature absolutely every fan favorite, but nothing short of a huge box set could--and even then, people would be arguing about which version to include. It does, however, give the listener a wonderful smattering of fundamentals, like the classic 'China Cat Sunflower'/'I Know You Rider' pairing, joined by a fluid upbeat segue; the wah-wah'd bliss of the "sunshine daydream" outro to 'Sugar Magnolia'; a Pigpen sung blues tune ('Hurts Me Too'); and the sequence that begins with 'Truckin' and ends with 'Morning Dew', a nonstop 37ish minutes of music. The record label, or whoever, wisely broke this up into four tracks with an 'Epilogue' and 'Prelude' for newer fans to easily digest, though the second or so of silence between the two was likely added/edited for the original vinyl record since for time constraints. For all intents and purposes these two tracks are just a segue/improvisation that could just as easily have been listed as a single 'Jam' track on CD. Speaking of changes for the CD, the best of the bonus material is at the end of disc two. No, not the hidden joke about the dog. The actual music portion of the bonus is a very meaty 30 or so minutes and demonstrates the band's ability to quickly weave in and out of tracks. The 'Caution/Who Do You Love/Caution' sandwich in the middle that's bookended by 'Good Lovin' is particularly great.

Even those intrigued by the Dead may find themselves overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the band's official live releases, let alone the huge catalog of audience tapes that are even more readily accessible on the Internet today. I would point to Europe '72 as the best starting place for anyone who wants a sample of the band. Workingman's Dead and American Beauty are great albums, but often people who like those don't end up liking the Dead; those albums are the end point and all these people enjoy or want. But ideally, Europe '72 will represent only the beginning and a point of conversion for new fans. I know it was for me.

Primer: Phish Part 6/Album of the Week- Billy Breathes

Billy Breathes was and remains a sticky point of contention among some Phish fans. It was such a focused, disciplined, and majestic album, unapologetically pop, that fans had a hard time accepting that this was Phish. Certainly the first time I heard the album I was astonished at what I was hearing--here was a band who I mainly knew of as the guys who deftly married playfulness (in lyrics and music) to virtuosic improvisation, and now they had recorded an album that was like a love note to the AOR of the 60s and 70s. Hoist may have been a stab at a mainstream audience but it wasn't fully committed to being an album that anyone could appreciate and came off as a collection of disparate songs. And yet, I could see the point of the hardcore Phish fan, viewing this album with bittersweet detachment: where were the jams, man?? Why such a serious album??

In the two years between the release of Hoist and Billy Breathes, the band truly began their rise to becoming one of the biggest bands in the world. Through '94 and '95 the improvisational aspect of the band began to match the energy and creativity of the setlists, covers, and segues that had always been a trademark. Remember, too, that in August of '95 Jerry Garcia died, effectively ending the Grateful Dead and causing a healthy portion of that fanbase to seek out other up and coming jam bands to follow around. After an incredible fall tour and a legendary New Year's Eve show to wrap up 1995, Phish spent the first part of 1996 recording a new album. A few of the songs from Billy Breathes had been performed in '95, material that the band struggled to play live in a satisfactory manner. Influenced, possibly, by their performances on Halloween '94 and '95 of The White Album by the Beatles and Quadrophenia by The Who, respectively, the songs were more nuanced and serious than before. I also get the impression that Phish finally took the recording studio seriously and wanted to make something that would stand the test of time, an album that felt 'of a whole' and flowed together logically as a piece of music instead of a assortment of songs that were blueprints for live performances.

Indeed, the main appeal of Billy Breathes to me, as a hardcore Phish fan, is that--whether we want to admit it or not--Phish were never very good at performing these kind of songs live. Well, that's not entirely fair. They weren't good at performing ballads and songs that required disciplined, immaculate vocals and harmonies live. 'Waste', 'Talk', and 'Billy Breathes' are all songs that sound best on the album because their greatness rests on restraint and emotional resonance. Fans may have highly emotional reactions to certain songs of Phish, but they aren't well known for their ballads in the way the Grateful Dead were. I try to avoid comparing the two bands because it summons angry debaters, but when you listen to Jerry Garcia sing 'Sugaree' or 'Stella Blue', you feel it. As much as I love Phish, I only get that when I hear the album versions. This was the first time Phish were writing ballads that felt "real", and the emotion behind them was "honest." Indeed, Billy Breathes is their most "serious" album and I think that was a problem for some fans. The other 'problem' with Billy Breathes is that Phish had a bad habit of playing 'Prince Caspian' and 'Character Zero' into the ground over the course of tours. These two songs make fan lists of "songs you never want to hear live again" and I think the addition of "live" to that is a crucial distinction. These songs work so well in the pacing and flow of Billy Breathes but became infuriating 'late set or encore' material live. Whenever I'm listening to a show and they bust out 'Caspian' late into the second set, I can't help but think they're trying to re-capture the magic of the way the song flows out of the 'Swept Away'/'Steep' sequence on the album.

When critics use terms like 'pacing', 'flow', and 'sequencing', they refer to albums that do them well like Billy Breathes. There is a logical progression and emotionally resonant quality to this album I can't quite define, the way it hits the ballads at just the right time and alternates heavier fare like 'Character Zero' and 'Theme From The Bottom' with the airier 'Waste' and 'Train Song.' The way the aforementioned 'Swept Away'/'Steep'/'Prince Caspian' sequence forms a brilliant closing sequence that reminds one of the more lucid segue chains of live Phish. Then there's the excellent and subtle use of acoustic guitar throughout; the extremely warm production of the album that just begs for a release on vinyl; the way the album sounds timeless, as if it could've existed in 1974 or 2004. There really is just something about Billy Breathes that appeals to even those who don't like Phish or don't think they do. It creates a special atmosphere and feel for the listener, reminding me of late nights spent writing in my journal or staring at the fireplace in my parents' house while enjoying a bottle of wine.

Every great band or artist has that one album where everything comes together and they either purposely or accidentally find themselves suddenly getting rave reviews and selling far more copies than they had before. Billy Breathes was that album for Phish, and I urge non-fans to give it a try while hardcore fans should listen to it with fresh ears as a discrete piece of music.

Primer: Phish Part 1- Junta

Assuming you happened across them in the late 80s or early 90s, you'd be hard pressed to find a stranger band than Phish. Remember that this was before the band got tagged as 'the next Grateful Dead', which happened around 1994 when Jerry Garcia died. No, during the time frame I'm talking about, Phish were this odd entity that put out music that was some strange chemical compound made up of Frank Zappa's humor and chops, progressive rock complexity and epic songs, 60s/70s pop/classic rock, and heavy dashes of bluegrass, funk, blues, folk, jazz, and Latin music. They never fit in with any of the trends throughout the 80s, 90s, or 00s, though they are often filed in with the 'jam band' scene which they largely helped birth and transcended at the same time. Listening back to Junta now, it's funny to think that the sort of band who married simplistic, childish, jokey lyrics with complicated musical arrangements could become so popular. For their first recording, Junta is surprisingly well formed.

Except that it wasn't their first recording. Though Junta is ostensibly their debut, the band had spent the first few years of their existence messing around with bedroom recordings and experimental music (the infamous White Tape) and putting together a concept album/musical for guitarist Trey Anastasio's senior college thesis (the even-more-infamous Man Who Stepped Into Yesterday, a.k.a. Gamehendge). Both of these releases never saw wide release; the Gamehendge saga itself only exists in bootleg form, while The White Tape received official release only in the late 90s. At any rate, as the band recorded Junta they had been playing together for almost five years and had, technically, produced two albums of material. For years people have been listening to this album and wondering how a band could sound so sure and complete on its debut. Most of the songs on this release became staples of Phish's live material for years and years, after all. Well, as it turns out, it wasn't their first studio experience and they were a fairly seasoned live band to boot.

But let's talk about the music, shall we?? Junta is the logical starting place for anyone first discovering the band since it contains, more or less, everything that people love about Phish. It includes a healthy helping of their compositional heavy hitters such as 'You Enjoy Myself', 'David Bowie', 'Fluffhead', and 'The Divided Sky.' It has short, fun songs like 'Fee', 'Dinner And A Movie', and 'Contact.' It contains a long-form studio jam, 'Union Federal', which is kind of like a preview of the sort of epic improvisation the band would go on to produce during live concerts from roughly '93 onwards. And finally, Junta has two live tracks which demonstrate the band's humor and knowledge of music, referencing Jimmy Buffet and a line from a U2 concert film all the while clowning around with insidery concert jokes.

On a side note, Phish's studio output is an oddly fascinating document of the band. Like most hardcore fans, I've gotten used to the way these songs sound on live recordings, so at first the songs seem kind of sterile and flat, with less energy and unarguably more concise lengths than live versions. But now, as I'm going through all their studio output again, I feel as though I appreciate the perfection and "basic"-ness of them. While fans could easily point to live versions of each of these songs that are better (for any number of reasons: quotes of other songs, better solos, better improvisation, segues into or out of other songs, etc.) the studio versions of live favorites like 'You Enjoy Myself' and 'Tweezer' are strangely charming. It's fun to go from these relatively reserved, polished offerings to the madness and "falling-down-a-mountain-out-of-control-but-I-love-it" feel of live shows.

Junta is often considered by fans to be the band's best studio album. I agree to the extent that I think it's the best place to start for newcomers in order to begin familiarizing themselves with Phish's music. Personally I lean toward Billy Breathes or Farmhouse as the band's best studio album, because those function equally well for fans as they do for non-fans, being attempts to produce a unified piece of music instead of just a selection of Phish songs pared down for the studio. But that's an argument for another time, so I digress. Junta is a must buy for fans and the best place for outsiders to start.

Album of the Week: The Grateful Dead- Workingman's Dead

I've often heard it said that the Dead are one of those bands you either love or hate, yet I find myself somewhere between these two extremes. For the record, this has nothing to do with their live stuff, either. I was very heavily into Phish until recently, so I'm not averse to lengthy improvisations and wading through 3 or 4 CD live releases. The problem with the Dead for me is a combination of how long they were around and how hit-or-miss they could be. The former because I much prefer their first decade of existence, and the latter simply because of the ephemeral nature of live shows, particularly for jam bands. At their worst, they could be an incredibly sluggish and boring band, but at their best, they could truly transcend. So I neither love nor hate the Dead as a general rule. When they're good, they're actually great, but when they're bad, they're embarassing to listen to.

With all that out of the way, I wish Workingman's Dead got the kind of love that American Beauty does. Both albums represent the Dead at the point in their career when they embraced their roots as a jugband, bringing in country, folk, and (stronger) blues influences. Along with this came the incredible vocal harmonies they learned from their friends Crosby, Stills, and Nash (and maybe Young, too). Yet I've always thought of Workingman's Dead as the more successful of the two albums, not in terms of its songs, but for its entirely believable transformation of the Dead from an acid dropping, psychedelic, improvisational, and rockin' live band to a hard drinkin' band of the people.

See, American Beauty is a stellar album, but Workingman's Dead completely nails what it's trying to be. Trey Anastasio of Phish remarked during a Charlie Rose interview that the Dead were the greatest American band ever, and I think what he was getting at was their ability to take all the entirely American musical idioms and put their own spin on them. Moreover, with the songs on Workingman's Dead, the band created songs that are so startlingly close to classic American folk songs, blues, ballads, and country work songs that I didn't realize until recently that they weren't covers or adaptations. Instead, the band were crafting new myths about old heroes (like Casey Jones), old folk tales, and, most pleasingly, old standard topics like women, drinking, and hard jobs. If American Beauty is the kind of album that everyone knows and loves, and you can drink/sing along to with friends, then Workingman's Dead is the album you put on in order to drink alone to.

While not the quintessential Dead album (I think Europe '72 has the best mix of excellently played 'songs' and deft improvisation), Workingman's Dead is a damn near perfect American album. Weirdly enough, for being an album so connected with the distant past, it feels appropriately classic 40 years later, as if they knew that the songs they were making during this era were destined to become staples in the same way that the old songs they grew up on were. Intentional or otherwise, Workingman's Dead is one of the finest albums ever recorded, and even if you think you hate the Dead, you might be surprised how much you love this.