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Brendan Benson w/ Cory Chisel
Saturday December 12, 2009 at 8:00 PM
- 18+ Show -
There are three memories that always burn brightest — the warmth of the air, a shade of cerise, and that perfect description of Brendan Benson’s voice: Sweet. Clean. Effortless.
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Find Brendan Benson w/ Cory Chisel on...
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Schedule
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Cory Chisel
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9:00PM
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Brendan Benson
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9:45PM
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Ticket Prices
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| General Admission |
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$15.00
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Cory Chisel | 9:00 PM
 Like many artists before him, Cory Chisel first connected with the power of song – and the spellbinding possibilities of live performance – through the music he heard in church. The gospel’s rich vernacular of loss and redemption also informed his innate poetic sense and lyrical range. “For most of my life,” he says, “my dad was a Baptist minister, so I learned a lot about being a showman, and I learned a lot about music. Many of the hymns from church still are the most beautiful songs I know. I'm thankful for growing up where stories and the pursuit of happiness were on everybody's mind. I think I’m still trying to achieve the same euphoria I felt at a very young age, when I would be completely taken over by these rhythms and these sounds and these stories.”
An equally potent influence on Chisel’s worldview and wellspring of musical storytelling is the American heartland from which he hails. Based in Appleton, WI, where he’s lived for almost twenty years. His family’s roots, on both sides, reach about 500 miles north and west to Babbitt, Minnesota and neighboring Ely, beside the pristine Boundary Waters, the largest wilderness preserve east of the Rockies. The vast, open spaces and clear, deep lakes of the wild north are ingrained in Chisel’s songs, which sound as if they come to him as naturally as breathing.
In an upbringing where he was largely sheltered from pop music, Chisel’s fluency with music comes in great measure from always having played it with his family, for as long as he can remember. One of his grandfathers had nine brothers and, he notes, “they’re all great guitar players, and half of them play harmonica too.” He also cites his Uncle Roger, a blues musician – whose epic record collection exposed him to Howlin’ Wolf, Sonny Boy Williamson, Sam Cooke, Aretha Franklin, Otis Redding, Robert Johnson, Johnny Cash, Tom Waits, Bob Dylan and countless others – as a chief source of inspiration. “He was a musical force,” says Cory. “I always felt like I possessed something similar, that I understood the exorcism I saw him receiving through music.”
Death Won't Send A Letter, Chisel’s full-length debut for Black Seal Records, is a dark and urgent rock and roll vision. It takes a romantic albeit gutsy stance on the meaning of love and spirituality, as the songs seek to make sense of the world outside and human desires within – reconciling the call of the road and a longing for home, literally and figuratively. With Grammy-winning producer Joe Chiccarelli (The Shins, The White Stripes) at the helm, Cory’s songs have transformed into lush and nuanced recordings that never sacrifice his emotional vulnerability or his rich and unique vocal tone.
The songs on Death Won't Send A Letter were recorded primarily at Blackbird Studios in Nashville, TN with Chisel’s backing vocalist/keyboard player Adriel Harris and “Little Jack” Lawrence (The Raconteurs, The Dead Weather) on initial tracking. Cory, Adriel and Little Jack were then joined by Jack’s longtime collaborator Patrick Keeler (The Raconteurs, The Greenhornes) on drums. With Patrick and Jack’s driving rhythm section the albums’ sound took on a grittier hue. And in Brendan Benson Cory found a writing and arranging partner that birthed the lead album track “Born Again.” Carl Broemel from My Morning Jacket also contributes on guitar.
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Brendan Benson | 9:45 PM
 Late afternoon, Miami, and Iggy Pop and I were standing watching for a manatee that occasionally swims up along the river at the end of his garden. Pop was bare-chested in cerise trousers, talking about Brendan Benson. "Well you know Brendan," he said, “you how Brendan is, how Brendan sounds…” and as he spoke he waved his hand, stirring the warm air.
He was telling me why he had invited Benson to sing on a track on the Stooges’ 2007 album the Weirdness. "I wanted a sweet, clean, effortless American voice on that particular chorus," he explained, as we looked down the river. "And Brendan had the voice."
It wasn't until this moment that I truly realised the Americanness of Brendan Benson. I'd long had him pinned as an Anglophile; heard in the glint of his lyrics, in the texture of his music, the influence of Elvis Costello, the Beatles, Bowie.
But as Pop pointed out, it was an Americanness lay in that voice. Benson’s voice has a gleam to it, a West Coast shimmer, the shine of a sleek new fender. When I hear Brendan Benson sing I think of the furl on a Coca Cola bottle, of broad Midwestern skies and bright yellow mustard.
It was there in the biography of course: a lifetime spread across four states, from a childhood spent on the outskirts of New Orleans, to his years in Detroit, Michigan, sojourns in Los Angeles and San Francisco, and a more recent relocation to Nashville, Tennessee.
Inevitably this has brought an itinerant quality to his songwriting, a geographical and emotional search for somewhere to belong. It is there in many of the titles: One Mississippi, Lapalco, Metarie, House in Virginia, Life in the D. But it is there, too, in the songs’ tale of perpetual quest, both literal and emotional: is this the place? he seems to be asking. Is this the girl? Is this What I'm Looking For?
Somehow Benson has shaped these restless-hearted stories into songs that fit together with near-mechanical neatness, that carry the delicious clunk-click of rhyme: ‘hop’ to match ‘shop’, for example, or ‘shade’ for ‘esplanade’. These are songs that arrive perfectly formed, immaculate, well-polished, songs that are musical Model Ts.
It is a style he has honed, of course. On 1996’s One Mississippi, the songs came rough-hewn but charged with hooks and with wit; 2002’s Lapalco brought a perfect pop ripeness, and by The Alternative to Love in 2005, there was something quite brilliant, quite burnished about his songwriting. Along the way he has co-written and recorded two spectacular albums with the Raconteurs, Broken Boy Soldiers and Consolers of the Lonely.
For Benson, The Raconteurs was not just an opportunity to play with close friends Jack White (The White Stripes) Jack Lawrence and Patrick Keeler (The Greenhornes) but also an chance to roll around in the rock, psychedelia and blues that had shaped his musical taste. He once told me how he fell in love with the Blues when he first heard Cream playing Rollin' and Tumblin' on the radio; how this led him to Howlin Wolf and to a guitar style that is “scuffed, scruffy, flappy.” “My stuff is all chords and melody,” he said. “And so playing with the Raconteurs is so liberating because, when you play the blues with other people, you're all on common ground, you all know the same basics.”
This year's offering, My Old, Familiar Friend, gathers together all of these influences — the Americanness, the Anglophile twist, the geography, the rock and the pop to create something truly exceptional. Recorded in Nashville and London, mixed in LA, produced by Gil Norton (Pixies, Echo & the Bunnymen, Foo Fighters) and mixed by Dave Sardy (The Rolling Stones, LCD Soundsystem, Oasis) it is a marriage of passion and perfectionism, an illustration of all that is special about Benson - from the glimmer of “Feel Like Taking You Hom”e to the “Motown” swoon of Garbage Day.
The key to Benson’s talent has always rested there in the music itself. Through all of his songs ribbons a delight in melody. It was there in One Mississippi’s Bird’s Eye View, just as it is there in My Old, Familiar Friend’s Poised and Ready. For Benson, words themselves are musical instruments; feel it flutter through the rhymes of Don't Wanna Talk: "I hear you loud and clear/ But now I fear this ear/ I'm lending/ Is falling off/ And all is lost/ And it seems never-ending."
Benson’s musical approach is detailed, craftsmanlike, fastidious. Take for instance A Whole Lot Better from the My Old, Familiar Friend, in which harmonies, hand-claps, guitar are layered to produce a work of such heart-filled buoyancy, a work that culminates in the sweet, dove-tailing swoop of its refrain: “I fell in love with you/ And out of love with you/ And back in love with you/ All in the same day.”
Down by the river we waited for hours, but the manatee never came. The lights came on in the houses over the water, and someone started playing Nat King Cole. There are many things I remember from that afternoon with Iggy Pop, a buff-coloured lizard on the table, a Head & Shoulders bottle in the bathroom, but there are three memories that always burn brightest — the warmth of the air, a shade of cerise, and that perfect description of Brendan Benson’s voice: Sweet. Clean. Effortless.
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