club cafe

pittsburgh, pa
(Late Show) Da Funny Team Presents Lillian Cannon, David 'The Frog' Bey, Will Quivers, Darnell 'Nu Skool' Anderson & Hosted By One Eye. Music By DJ Cue.

Join Club Cafe for an evening of comedy.

Da Funny Team Presents Lillian Cannon, David 'The Frog' Bey, Will Quivers, Darnell 'Nu Skool' Anderson & Hosted By One Eye. Music By DJ Cue.

Join Club Cafe for an evening of comedy.

Da Funny Team Presents Lillian Cannon, David 'The Frog' Bey, Will Quivers, Darnell 'Nu Skool' Anderson & Hosted By One Eye. Music By DJ Cue.

Joe Hertler & the Rainbow Seekers

Joe Hertler & The Rainbow Seekers will make a sprightly young groove doctor out of anyone. With spectacular energy pulsating from every member of the band, the Rainbow Seekers could illuminate the very chambers of Heaven. Lead singer Joe Hertler splashes through lyrical puddles of golden rain, leaving his audience wearing flowery crowns and bubbling smiles. A ride on the Rainbow will take you across the mountains of Motown, through the fjords of folk, over the archipelagos of Americana, and-at last-into a funky firth, where only the fiercest of friendships can be found.

The Rainbow Seekers began their quest beneath the fingertips of songwriter Joe Hertler. Bassist and producer Kevin Pritchard, recently thawed from an extremely rare prehistoric groove glacier, discovered the forlorn Hertler in a twinkling, mysteriously fortuitous place called The Quilted Attic. Alongside legendary glacier-hunter Rick Hale-who would later spend decades forging a drum set from pure, white-hot, ancient stardust to mark the occasion-Pritchard changed the world: He wrangled Hertler into musical collaboration. And the lonely little songsmith, it turned out, was not quite as alone as he seemed: With him came the irresistibly sexy blues guitar prodigy who is now known to the world as Ryan Hoger.

The core of the Rainbow was thereby established, and it didn’t take long for the Rainbow Seekers to continue their expansion. Multi-instrumentalist and notable auxiliary percussion maestro Micah Bracken journeyed from the bowels of Atlantis when he heard tell of the Rainbow, and the earth trembled as saxophonist and all-around bad ass Aaron Stinson descended from Olympus on a golden rainbow of his own. Then came Stinson's little-known winged companion from the Far East, the debonair violist Joshua Barber Holcomb-When he saw the pure, unadulterated joy the Rainbow Seekers sprinkled on every crowd they happened upon, he had no choice but to join them on their quest.

As you'll know if you've seen the band, seeking the proverbial Rainbow is all about the live performance. "The live show is the purpose of the band. This is why we make music. Playing music is a symbiotic process, and without a crowd it is just a bunch of guys jamming," says Hertler. "We believe that performance is not a High Art operation, and that you should do anything you can to ensure that the crowd is having a good time. From piñatas to confetti, to fog, to flowers, to drum solos, to strobe lights, to Thor, to sword battles-literally anything goes."

If you're still reading this, at least one thing is true: The Rainbow Seekers have been waiting for you. If you'll only let them, they will shake the dust from your wildest expectations. They will roar into your life with rapturous frequencies, exuberant tone, and a joyfulness of purpose that has truly become a rare sight on stage. Join them in their celebration, and they will take you on a never-ending journey to a place you'll never be able to describe in words.

Joe Hertler & The Rainbow Seekers will make a sprightly young groove doctor out of anyone. With spectacular energy pulsating from every member of the band, the Rainbow Seekers could illuminate the very chambers of Heaven. Lead singer Joe Hertler splashes through lyrical puddles of golden rain, leaving his audience wearing flowery crowns and bubbling smiles. A ride on the Rainbow will take you across the mountains of Motown, through the fjords of folk, over the archipelagos of Americana, and-at last-into a funky firth, where only the fiercest of friendships can be found.

The Rainbow Seekers began their quest beneath the fingertips of songwriter Joe Hertler. Bassist and producer Kevin Pritchard, recently thawed from an extremely rare prehistoric groove glacier, discovered the forlorn Hertler in a twinkling, mysteriously fortuitous place called The Quilted Attic. Alongside legendary glacier-hunter Rick Hale-who would later spend decades forging a drum set from pure, white-hot, ancient stardust to mark the occasion-Pritchard changed the world: He wrangled Hertler into musical collaboration. And the lonely little songsmith, it turned out, was not quite as alone as he seemed: With him came the irresistibly sexy blues guitar prodigy who is now known to the world as Ryan Hoger.

The core of the Rainbow was thereby established, and it didn’t take long for the Rainbow Seekers to continue their expansion. Multi-instrumentalist and notable auxiliary percussion maestro Micah Bracken journeyed from the bowels of Atlantis when he heard tell of the Rainbow, and the earth trembled as saxophonist and all-around bad ass Aaron Stinson descended from Olympus on a golden rainbow of his own. Then came Stinson's little-known winged companion from the Far East, the debonair violist Joshua Barber Holcomb-When he saw the pure, unadulterated joy the Rainbow Seekers sprinkled on every crowd they happened upon, he had no choice but to join them on their quest.

As you'll know if you've seen the band, seeking the proverbial Rainbow is all about the live performance. "The live show is the purpose of the band. This is why we make music. Playing music is a symbiotic process, and without a crowd it is just a bunch of guys jamming," says Hertler. "We believe that performance is not a High Art operation, and that you should do anything you can to ensure that the crowd is having a good time. From piñatas to confetti, to fog, to flowers, to drum solos, to strobe lights, to Thor, to sword battles-literally anything goes."

If you're still reading this, at least one thing is true: The Rainbow Seekers have been waiting for you. If you'll only let them, they will shake the dust from your wildest expectations. They will roar into your life with rapturous frequencies, exuberant tone, and a joyfulness of purpose that has truly become a rare sight on stage. Join them in their celebration, and they will take you on a never-ending journey to a place you'll never be able to describe in words.

The Main Squeeze

Instruments:

Ben "Smiley" Silverstein (keys), Maximillian Newman (guitar), Corey Frye (vocals), Rob Walker (bass), and Reuben Gringrich (drums)

Bio:

The Main Squeeze, with deep musical roots sprouted in the Midwest, have scored their lives at each twist and curve. While starting out as a party band at Indiana University, their forthcoming April 28th release "Without a Sound" illustrates their increasing musical maturity and creativity inspired by their new home in Los Angeles.

If maturity comes with experience, "Without a Sound" reflects this. The Main Squeeze has spent several years building their foundation since being championed by producer Randy Jackson: they have played Red Rocks; shared the stage with The Roots, Aloe Blacc, Janes Addiction, Umphrey’s McGee, and Trombone Shorty; and performed at music festivals like Bonnaroo, Electric Forest, Summer Camp, and High Sierra.

The Main Squeeze is a blend of soul and hip-hop, funk with rock. They know their sound is "soulful, powerful, and unique" (Newman). Rolling Stone agrees in their recent critique of a live show: "Lead singer Corey Frye’s powerfully soulful vocals forms the foundation of an energetic set."

These underpinnings are important yet The Main Squeeze’s true focus will always be to "strive to reach people" through their beat loving heart in their music. "We are devoted to making great music for people to get lost in and to feel real emotion and love, and also to dance and enjoy life. And it's only just the beginning" (Newman). Billboard believes they have touched on this goal: "Funk runs deep in their DNA. Dare you not to two-step."


The beats on "Without A Sound" are plentiful and it is balanced with emotion, a mix of vocals, and instrumentation of the band. Their vibe is simultaneously timeless and futuristic as they are inspired by the greats, yet have found a way to infuse their own genius into the mix.

The Main Squeeze appeals to your head, heart and body.

Instruments:

Ben "Smiley" Silverstein (keys), Maximillian Newman (guitar), Corey Frye (vocals), Rob Walker (bass), and Reuben Gringrich (drums)

Bio:

The Main Squeeze, with deep musical roots sprouted in the Midwest, have scored their lives at each twist and curve. While starting out as a party band at Indiana University, their forthcoming April 28th release "Without a Sound" illustrates their increasing musical maturity and creativity inspired by their new home in Los Angeles.

If maturity comes with experience, "Without a Sound" reflects this. The Main Squeeze has spent several years building their foundation since being championed by producer Randy Jackson: they have played Red Rocks; shared the stage with The Roots, Aloe Blacc, Janes Addiction, Umphrey’s McGee, and Trombone Shorty; and performed at music festivals like Bonnaroo, Electric Forest, Summer Camp, and High Sierra.

The Main Squeeze is a blend of soul and hip-hop, funk with rock. They know their sound is "soulful, powerful, and unique" (Newman). Rolling Stone agrees in their recent critique of a live show: "Lead singer Corey Frye’s powerfully soulful vocals forms the foundation of an energetic set."

These underpinnings are important yet The Main Squeeze’s true focus will always be to "strive to reach people" through their beat loving heart in their music. "We are devoted to making great music for people to get lost in and to feel real emotion and love, and also to dance and enjoy life. And it's only just the beginning" (Newman). Billboard believes they have touched on this goal: "Funk runs deep in their DNA. Dare you not to two-step."


The beats on "Without A Sound" are plentiful and it is balanced with emotion, a mix of vocals, and instrumentation of the band. Their vibe is simultaneously timeless and futuristic as they are inspired by the greats, yet have found a way to infuse their own genius into the mix.

The Main Squeeze appeals to your head, heart and body.

(Late Show) Easy Roscoe with Jon Worthy and Brahctopus

Easy Roscoe is in your face fun with the affection for replacing the day’s worries with good vibes. Late in November of 2016 they headed into the studio to record a groovy little number, with an arrangement that has a little something for everyone. On the other end of those sessions came Empty Handed. A song that lures you in, pops you into the groove, and keeps you strapped in for the rest of the ride. Empty Handed follows up their EP, Piñata and LP, Keep the Dancin' Dancin' with a more honed and matured over all sound. From the beginning, in the depths of a dingy Nashville apartment complex to present day, the five piece continues to architect their brand of indie pop rock n roll with one goal, make you lose yourself.

The EP, Piñata, was a conduit to Easy Roscoe’s fun atmosphere and catchy story telling lyrics. Their affection for replacing the day’s worries with good vibes shows up throughout the EP on songs like “Green Leather Jacket” and “Roll Baby Roll”. “If you can’t bob your head to this, then you don’t have a head.” This being the whimsical phrase uttered in the control room during the recording of Piñata and a motto that pretty much sums up this second record from Easy Roscoe.

Seemingly by fate, Easy Roscoe formed in a dingy, Nashville apartment complex by chance in 2014. Originally conceived as a singer and two guitar players, they played their good-vibes brand of rock around town acoustically. Gaining a bassist and drummer within their first six months, the band continued to trudge forward, playing as many shows as they could pack in. After a year or so, Easy Roscoe entered the studio to create their first record, Keep the Dancin’ Dancin’ (KDD). In January 2015, the light-hearted, summery, storytelling record was released and set out to spread its good vibes. The Deli Magazine said, “Keep the Dancin' Dancin' is a solid first effort that is going to get some heavy play as we inch towards summer.” and Capsule Reviews said, “The songs all have that feel-good, infectious quality that can brighten up any day and get you…well, you see the CD title!”

The single off KDD, Alright; Regina, received radio play from Lightning 100 and Radio Free Nashville, creating a launching pad that catapulted the band through the summer of 2015, landing them in No Country For New Nashville’s Local Harvest contest. Vying for a spot on the Sound Harvest Music Festival line up, Easy Roscoe won the contest thanks to their increasingly fun energetic show and performed at the Festival in October 2015. Rounding out the year was the conception of their next record, Piñata, where again, their good vibes and good times shine through in a matured, solaced sound, primed to hit the airwaves in June of 2016.

Easy Roscoe is in your face fun with the affection for replacing the day’s worries with good vibes. Late in November of 2016 they headed into the studio to record a groovy little number, with an arrangement that has a little something for everyone. On the other end of those sessions came Empty Handed. A song that lures you in, pops you into the groove, and keeps you strapped in for the rest of the ride. Empty Handed follows up their EP, Piñata and LP, Keep the Dancin' Dancin' with a more honed and matured over all sound. From the beginning, in the depths of a dingy Nashville apartment complex to present day, the five piece continues to architect their brand of indie pop rock n roll with one goal, make you lose yourself.

The EP, Piñata, was a conduit to Easy Roscoe’s fun atmosphere and catchy story telling lyrics. Their affection for replacing the day’s worries with good vibes shows up throughout the EP on songs like “Green Leather Jacket” and “Roll Baby Roll”. “If you can’t bob your head to this, then you don’t have a head.” This being the whimsical phrase uttered in the control room during the recording of Piñata and a motto that pretty much sums up this second record from Easy Roscoe.

Seemingly by fate, Easy Roscoe formed in a dingy, Nashville apartment complex by chance in 2014. Originally conceived as a singer and two guitar players, they played their good-vibes brand of rock around town acoustically. Gaining a bassist and drummer within their first six months, the band continued to trudge forward, playing as many shows as they could pack in. After a year or so, Easy Roscoe entered the studio to create their first record, Keep the Dancin’ Dancin’ (KDD). In January 2015, the light-hearted, summery, storytelling record was released and set out to spread its good vibes. The Deli Magazine said, “Keep the Dancin' Dancin' is a solid first effort that is going to get some heavy play as we inch towards summer.” and Capsule Reviews said, “The songs all have that feel-good, infectious quality that can brighten up any day and get you…well, you see the CD title!”

The single off KDD, Alright; Regina, received radio play from Lightning 100 and Radio Free Nashville, creating a launching pad that catapulted the band through the summer of 2015, landing them in No Country For New Nashville’s Local Harvest contest. Vying for a spot on the Sound Harvest Music Festival line up, Easy Roscoe won the contest thanks to their increasingly fun energetic show and performed at the Festival in October 2015. Rounding out the year was the conception of their next record, Piñata, where again, their good vibes and good times shine through in a matured, solaced sound, primed to hit the airwaves in June of 2016.

Opus One & 91.3 WYEP Present Margaret Glaspy

"Emotions and Math" is not simply the name of Margaret Glaspy's new debut album. That expression drills right to the heart of the New York singer-songwriter's proper introduction, a mission statement both artistic and personal.
On its surface, the title track talks about being a touring musician and figuring out how to see your partner, looking at the calendar and calculating how you're going to spend time together. But "Emotions and Math," which ATO Records will release on June 17, also sums up an epiphany she had while making the record.
"In a lot of ways, it's kind of how I operate," says Glaspy. "I've always considered myself a free spirit, someone who goes with the flow, but actually I'm not exactly like that. This record really taught me that I'm super analytical and process-driven. I think they really do go together, emotions and math. Nobody is just one thing."
As introductions go, these 12 songs waste no time in cutting close to the bone. This is a young artist with something to say, one who has found her voice, as both singer and songwriter, after years venturing down a crooked path.
After cutting her teeth in New York and Boston, where she was a touring musician and played in other people's bands, "Emotions and Math" signals an assured new direction for Glaspy.
Glaspy, who's 27 and grew up in Red Bluff, California, self-produced the album, which frames her revealing ruminations in shards of jagged guitar rock. Building on its early buzz - Rolling Stone hailed first single "You and I" for its "hot barbs of electric guitar," and BrooklynVegan declared it a "stomping rocker with a DGAF attitude" - Glaspy prepares for a big year in 2016.
She's a fierce believer in the power of specifics to tell universal truths, to capture emotions we've all felt but don't necessarily hear reflected in pop music. Some truths are uglier than others, but Glaspy never backs down.
Take "You and I," which opens with a sentiment so gripping that Glaspy initially worried it would send the wrong message. "Tonight I'm too turned on to talk about us/ And tomorrow I'll be too turned off/ And won't give a fuck/ About you and I," she sings with a punk sneer that turns up often throughout her debut.
"A lot of the songs are so specific but also feel like they apply to so much of my life," says Glaspy. "I realize more and more on a daily basis that if you're given a microphone to share what you have to say, then I hope to God that I don't encourage some fantasy of what we're supposed to be or how we should live our lives."
Glaspy would rather tell you the truth of the matter. On "Memory Street," she envisions her past as a small town dotted with old relationships and memories both fond and painful: "Why remember all the times I took forever to forget?" She salutes her self-reliance on "Somebody to Anybody," reminding both the listener and herself that, "I don't want to be somebody to anybody// No, I'm good at no one."
The album also showcases Glaspy's finely tuned ear for production. Throughout "Emotions and Math," she keeps the recordings clean and urgent, without an ounce of fat on them. She had plenty of practice; having recorded demos of the album twice at home before eventually ironing out the wrinkles at Sear Sound studios in New York. Glaspy auditioned her players and kept the sessions brisk and loose, running through songs a few times with musicians still reading the charts she had written out. "Everyone was on their toes, waiting for the right moment," she says.
That freewheeling vibe ended up imbuing the songs with the same brittle energy and warm intimacy Glaspy brings to her live performances. In a bit of comic relief, "You Don't Want Me" is a duet with herself, an imagined conversation between an insecure woman and a man who has to reassure her. "You don't want me," Glaspy sings dismissively, countered by her own voice, slightly distorted and pitched lower: "I do/ You are on my mind/ Every night of the week/ Stop being so nave," Glaspy sings.
Told from the perspective of a parent to a child, "Parental Guidance" plumbs the fragile psyche of adolescents. "I think a lot of times kids are pigeonholed as being kids, but at the same time it's the most important years of their lives," Glaspy says. "Our view of ourselves is so paramount, and when it gets messed with at a young age, it's lethal."
The closing "Black Is Blue" is a poetic ode to accepting a reality you never knew. The least autobiographical song on the record, it's the story of a couple who were in love, had a kid, and then broke up. "But from far away, Black Is Blue' is about things you thought were one way but aren't really like that at all," Glaspy says.
"It's taken a minute," she admits, "but I'm so glad that I waited to record my debut. I went through so many different phases before I got to where I am now. It feels like it took 26 years to make this album."

"Emotions and Math" is not simply the name of Margaret Glaspy's new debut album. That expression drills right to the heart of the New York singer-songwriter's proper introduction, a mission statement both artistic and personal.
On its surface, the title track talks about being a touring musician and figuring out how to see your partner, looking at the calendar and calculating how you're going to spend time together. But "Emotions and Math," which ATO Records will release on June 17, also sums up an epiphany she had while making the record.
"In a lot of ways, it's kind of how I operate," says Glaspy. "I've always considered myself a free spirit, someone who goes with the flow, but actually I'm not exactly like that. This record really taught me that I'm super analytical and process-driven. I think they really do go together, emotions and math. Nobody is just one thing."
As introductions go, these 12 songs waste no time in cutting close to the bone. This is a young artist with something to say, one who has found her voice, as both singer and songwriter, after years venturing down a crooked path.
After cutting her teeth in New York and Boston, where she was a touring musician and played in other people's bands, "Emotions and Math" signals an assured new direction for Glaspy.
Glaspy, who's 27 and grew up in Red Bluff, California, self-produced the album, which frames her revealing ruminations in shards of jagged guitar rock. Building on its early buzz - Rolling Stone hailed first single "You and I" for its "hot barbs of electric guitar," and BrooklynVegan declared it a "stomping rocker with a DGAF attitude" - Glaspy prepares for a big year in 2016.
She's a fierce believer in the power of specifics to tell universal truths, to capture emotions we've all felt but don't necessarily hear reflected in pop music. Some truths are uglier than others, but Glaspy never backs down.
Take "You and I," which opens with a sentiment so gripping that Glaspy initially worried it would send the wrong message. "Tonight I'm too turned on to talk about us/ And tomorrow I'll be too turned off/ And won't give a fuck/ About you and I," she sings with a punk sneer that turns up often throughout her debut.
"A lot of the songs are so specific but also feel like they apply to so much of my life," says Glaspy. "I realize more and more on a daily basis that if you're given a microphone to share what you have to say, then I hope to God that I don't encourage some fantasy of what we're supposed to be or how we should live our lives."
Glaspy would rather tell you the truth of the matter. On "Memory Street," she envisions her past as a small town dotted with old relationships and memories both fond and painful: "Why remember all the times I took forever to forget?" She salutes her self-reliance on "Somebody to Anybody," reminding both the listener and herself that, "I don't want to be somebody to anybody// No, I'm good at no one."
The album also showcases Glaspy's finely tuned ear for production. Throughout "Emotions and Math," she keeps the recordings clean and urgent, without an ounce of fat on them. She had plenty of practice; having recorded demos of the album twice at home before eventually ironing out the wrinkles at Sear Sound studios in New York. Glaspy auditioned her players and kept the sessions brisk and loose, running through songs a few times with musicians still reading the charts she had written out. "Everyone was on their toes, waiting for the right moment," she says.
That freewheeling vibe ended up imbuing the songs with the same brittle energy and warm intimacy Glaspy brings to her live performances. In a bit of comic relief, "You Don't Want Me" is a duet with herself, an imagined conversation between an insecure woman and a man who has to reassure her. "You don't want me," Glaspy sings dismissively, countered by her own voice, slightly distorted and pitched lower: "I do/ You are on my mind/ Every night of the week/ Stop being so nave," Glaspy sings.
Told from the perspective of a parent to a child, "Parental Guidance" plumbs the fragile psyche of adolescents. "I think a lot of times kids are pigeonholed as being kids, but at the same time it's the most important years of their lives," Glaspy says. "Our view of ourselves is so paramount, and when it gets messed with at a young age, it's lethal."
The closing "Black Is Blue" is a poetic ode to accepting a reality you never knew. The least autobiographical song on the record, it's the story of a couple who were in love, had a kid, and then broke up. "But from far away, Black Is Blue' is about things you thought were one way but aren't really like that at all," Glaspy says.
"It's taken a minute," she admits, "but I'm so glad that I waited to record my debut. I went through so many different phases before I got to where I am now. It feels like it took 26 years to make this album."

The Steel Wheels

Hailing from the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, The Steel Wheels are familiar with the traditions of folk music and how a string band is supposed to sound. In fact, they've been drawing on those steadfast traditions for more than a decade. Yet their name also evokes a sense of forward motion, which is clearly reflected in their latest album, Wild As We Came Here.

"I think we've always been able to write new songs with different landscapes. However it was really enjoyable for us, creatively and artistically, to depart from the straight-up acoustic sound that we've been known for," says Trent Wagler, who plays guitar and banjo in the band and writes most of the material. "I'm excited to see what happens. There are fans out there who are ready for this and who have been waiting for us to do this."

While on tour supporting Josh Ritter, the band forged a friendship with Sam Kassirer, who plays keyboards for Ritter on tour and has produced a number of his albums. While The Steel Wheels had been considering other producers and maybe recording in Nashville, they chose to follow their instincts all the way to rural Maine, where Kassirer owns a recording studio inside a renovated farmhouse from the 18th century. All four band members - Wagler, Eric Brubaker (fiddle), Brian Dickel (upright bass), and Jay Lapp (mandolin) - hunkered down for a week and a half to create Wild As We Came Here.

"It's a gorgeous set-up," Wagler says. "I didn't grow up in a big city and I never made a record in a big city. It's much more my style, and our style as a band, to completely hole up - probably more than we ever have - for 10 full days in Maine. I left the house for a couple of bike rides but I never went to a restaurant or a store the whole time I was there. We ate on site, we slept on site, and we recorded. It was a very immersive experience, top to bottom."

Afternoon hikes amid the fall foliage helped them clear their heads, ensuring that everyone could stay focused on the task at hand - which in retrospect was quite daunting. The Steel Wheels had about 40 original songs stowed away before the sessions. Only two or three had ever been played live and the band had not arranged any of them.

"One of my favorite parts of the process was taking the first couple of days to rehearse and arrange the songs all in one room, with Sam offering his insights," Brubaker says. "We had enough time to really build the songs from the ground up, examining each one to see what elements would best highlight the mood we were trying to capture."

Wild As We Came Here is a significant leap for the band, which started its journey in 2004. Wagler, Dickel, and Brubaker studied at Eastern Mennonite University in Harrisonburg, Virginia, about an hour from Charlottesville. (All four members of the band grew up in Mennonite families.) Wagler and Dickel were in a punk/alternative band until acoustic music lured them in.

Wagler soon started crafting songs and learned flat-picking. Dickel took classes on building guitars. They briefly played as a duo before Brubaker joined on fiddle. Lapp eventually came on board after getting to know the band from the local folk circuit. In 2010, following a variety of EPs and LPs, the ensemble officially branded itself as The Steel Wheels, a tip of the hat to steam-powered trains, industrial progress, and the buggies of their Mennonite lineage.

Lapp says, "We found we really enjoyed singing and playing music together and it happened so naturally. To make it even better, everyone listens very well to what the other is playing, making it a total group experience. I've never worked with such a collected and well-spoken group of men, and it makes the experience of touring and performing a pure joy."

Then as now, The Steel Wheels' style weaves through Americana and bluegrass music, folk and old-time music, and the acoustic poetry of the finest singer-songwriters. By incorporating percussion and keyboards into the sessions for the first time, Wild As We Came Here adds new textures to their catalog, as themes of discovery and perseverance run throughout the collection.

The album begins with "To the Wild," which explores the fascinating and unusual relationship that modern society has with the great outdoors, from exploitation to preservation. Wagler wrote the title track after reading a news story about a desperate man who starts bidding at a land auction - even though he had no way of paying for it - in order to prevent oil and gas companies from destroying the natural beauty of the area.

Meanwhile, the idea behind "Broken Mandolin" was inspired by a few lines from the Pulitzer Prize-winning novel All the Light We Cannot See, which takes place during World War II. Wagler describes "Take Me to the Ending" as essentially a bluegrass apocalypse - "like a sense of coming out from the bunker and there are still a few people playing fiddle tunes."

Of course, exquisite harmonies remain a strength of the band, shining through on "Sing Me Like a Folk Song." By making a social statement in uncertain times, listeners will want to lend their voices too. More than a decade into The Steel Wheels' career, the simple act of singing together - something that carries them back to their Mennonite heritage - is still incredibly special. The stunning closing track, "Till No One Is Free," provides an elegant ending to the band's most satisfying album yet.

"It was my favorite studio experience from start to finish, by far, of any project we've ever done," Dickel says. "A super-relaxed and experimental vibe coupled with some genre-stretching sounds really did it for me. I think we pushed ourselves much further than previous albums and I think we will push our fans a little too. Both of those are exciting to me."

Hailing from the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, The Steel Wheels are familiar with the traditions of folk music and how a string band is supposed to sound. In fact, they've been drawing on those steadfast traditions for more than a decade. Yet their name also evokes a sense of forward motion, which is clearly reflected in their latest album, Wild As We Came Here.

"I think we've always been able to write new songs with different landscapes. However it was really enjoyable for us, creatively and artistically, to depart from the straight-up acoustic sound that we've been known for," says Trent Wagler, who plays guitar and banjo in the band and writes most of the material. "I'm excited to see what happens. There are fans out there who are ready for this and who have been waiting for us to do this."

While on tour supporting Josh Ritter, the band forged a friendship with Sam Kassirer, who plays keyboards for Ritter on tour and has produced a number of his albums. While The Steel Wheels had been considering other producers and maybe recording in Nashville, they chose to follow their instincts all the way to rural Maine, where Kassirer owns a recording studio inside a renovated farmhouse from the 18th century. All four band members - Wagler, Eric Brubaker (fiddle), Brian Dickel (upright bass), and Jay Lapp (mandolin) - hunkered down for a week and a half to create Wild As We Came Here.

"It's a gorgeous set-up," Wagler says. "I didn't grow up in a big city and I never made a record in a big city. It's much more my style, and our style as a band, to completely hole up - probably more than we ever have - for 10 full days in Maine. I left the house for a couple of bike rides but I never went to a restaurant or a store the whole time I was there. We ate on site, we slept on site, and we recorded. It was a very immersive experience, top to bottom."

Afternoon hikes amid the fall foliage helped them clear their heads, ensuring that everyone could stay focused on the task at hand - which in retrospect was quite daunting. The Steel Wheels had about 40 original songs stowed away before the sessions. Only two or three had ever been played live and the band had not arranged any of them.

"One of my favorite parts of the process was taking the first couple of days to rehearse and arrange the songs all in one room, with Sam offering his insights," Brubaker says. "We had enough time to really build the songs from the ground up, examining each one to see what elements would best highlight the mood we were trying to capture."

Wild As We Came Here is a significant leap for the band, which started its journey in 2004. Wagler, Dickel, and Brubaker studied at Eastern Mennonite University in Harrisonburg, Virginia, about an hour from Charlottesville. (All four members of the band grew up in Mennonite families.) Wagler and Dickel were in a punk/alternative band until acoustic music lured them in.

Wagler soon started crafting songs and learned flat-picking. Dickel took classes on building guitars. They briefly played as a duo before Brubaker joined on fiddle. Lapp eventually came on board after getting to know the band from the local folk circuit. In 2010, following a variety of EPs and LPs, the ensemble officially branded itself as The Steel Wheels, a tip of the hat to steam-powered trains, industrial progress, and the buggies of their Mennonite lineage.

Lapp says, "We found we really enjoyed singing and playing music together and it happened so naturally. To make it even better, everyone listens very well to what the other is playing, making it a total group experience. I've never worked with such a collected and well-spoken group of men, and it makes the experience of touring and performing a pure joy."

Then as now, The Steel Wheels' style weaves through Americana and bluegrass music, folk and old-time music, and the acoustic poetry of the finest singer-songwriters. By incorporating percussion and keyboards into the sessions for the first time, Wild As We Came Here adds new textures to their catalog, as themes of discovery and perseverance run throughout the collection.

The album begins with "To the Wild," which explores the fascinating and unusual relationship that modern society has with the great outdoors, from exploitation to preservation. Wagler wrote the title track after reading a news story about a desperate man who starts bidding at a land auction - even though he had no way of paying for it - in order to prevent oil and gas companies from destroying the natural beauty of the area.

Meanwhile, the idea behind "Broken Mandolin" was inspired by a few lines from the Pulitzer Prize-winning novel All the Light We Cannot See, which takes place during World War II. Wagler describes "Take Me to the Ending" as essentially a bluegrass apocalypse - "like a sense of coming out from the bunker and there are still a few people playing fiddle tunes."

Of course, exquisite harmonies remain a strength of the band, shining through on "Sing Me Like a Folk Song." By making a social statement in uncertain times, listeners will want to lend their voices too. More than a decade into The Steel Wheels' career, the simple act of singing together - something that carries them back to their Mennonite heritage - is still incredibly special. The stunning closing track, "Till No One Is Free," provides an elegant ending to the band's most satisfying album yet.

"It was my favorite studio experience from start to finish, by far, of any project we've ever done," Dickel says. "A super-relaxed and experimental vibe coupled with some genre-stretching sounds really did it for me. I think we pushed ourselves much further than previous albums and I think we will push our fans a little too. Both of those are exciting to me."

An Evening With Joe Grushecky & the Houserockers

"In a better world, Joe Grushecky would live in a mansion down the road from Springsteen's. Instead, this enormous talent spends his days teaching some of western Pennsylvania's most troubled children...Who do you know who has made back-to-back great albums more than 20 years ago, and is doing the same thing now. There's Dylan, Lucinda Williams, Neil Young, Springsteen, maybe a few more. He's on that level." - Jimmy Guterman, Runaway American Dream: Listening to Bruce Springsteen

Joe Grushecky's music has stood the test of time. For 30 years publications such as Billboard, Rolling Stone, Village Voice, No Depression, and countless others have hailed him as one of rock & roll's most talented singer-songwriters.

Joe's first band, the Iron City Houserockers, were signed to Cleveland International by A&R legend Steve Popovich also responsible for signing Meatloaf and Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes. ICH released their debut album, "Love's So Tough" in 1979 and began to garner critical acclaim:

In Rolling Stone, Greil Marcus wrote "their debut album is strong, passionate and a little desperate. This is hard rock with force.... I hope they're around for a long, long time."

Mick Ronson, Ian Hunter, and Steve Van Zandt handled the

"In a better world, Joe Grushecky would live in a mansion down the road from Springsteen's. Instead, this enormous talent spends his days teaching some of western Pennsylvania's most troubled children...Who do you know who has made back-to-back great albums more than 20 years ago, and is doing the same thing now. There's Dylan, Lucinda Williams, Neil Young, Springsteen, maybe a few more. He's on that level." - Jimmy Guterman, Runaway American Dream: Listening to Bruce Springsteen

Joe Grushecky's music has stood the test of time. For 30 years publications such as Billboard, Rolling Stone, Village Voice, No Depression, and countless others have hailed him as one of rock & roll's most talented singer-songwriters.

Joe's first band, the Iron City Houserockers, were signed to Cleveland International by A&R legend Steve Popovich also responsible for signing Meatloaf and Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes. ICH released their debut album, "Love's So Tough" in 1979 and began to garner critical acclaim:

In Rolling Stone, Greil Marcus wrote "their debut album is strong, passionate and a little desperate. This is hard rock with force.... I hope they're around for a long, long time."

Mick Ronson, Ian Hunter, and Steve Van Zandt handled the

Mephiskapheles

Mephiskapheles is back in red and black. The band that helped define third-wave ska, then defied critics by exploring even greater possibilities with its darkly original ska fusion, forges ahead with amazing shows and new music now available.

Formed in the East Village of New York City in 1991 by a group of punk rockers/artists/ad guys/jazz musicians, Mephiskapheles played its first show on Long Island. From day one, the band began attracting a diverse, dedicated fan base.

Sold-out NYC gigs led to tours with the Buzzcocks and GWAR, and hits on the Hawaiian Islands Chart with three singles from the band's first album, 1994's God Bless Satan, produced by Bill Laswell.

While touring relentlessly, Mephiskapheles followed-up in 1997 with Maximum Perversion, a jazz-influenced work that didn't take long to be hailed as a classic. A deal in 1999 with Koch Records resulted in the band's hard-hitting, exploratory third album, Might-Ay White-Ay.

Fronted by lead singer Invidious aka the Nubian Nightmare, along with the hottest rhythm section in New York, and the Horns of Hell, Mephiskapheles spreads its evil seed with an ongoing reissue program, epic shows, and new music out now.

See you in Hell.

Mephiskapheles is back in red and black. The band that helped define third-wave ska, then defied critics by exploring even greater possibilities with its darkly original ska fusion, forges ahead with amazing shows and new music now available.

Formed in the East Village of New York City in 1991 by a group of punk rockers/artists/ad guys/jazz musicians, Mephiskapheles played its first show on Long Island. From day one, the band began attracting a diverse, dedicated fan base.

Sold-out NYC gigs led to tours with the Buzzcocks and GWAR, and hits on the Hawaiian Islands Chart with three singles from the band's first album, 1994's God Bless Satan, produced by Bill Laswell.

While touring relentlessly, Mephiskapheles followed-up in 1997 with Maximum Perversion, a jazz-influenced work that didn't take long to be hailed as a classic. A deal in 1999 with Koch Records resulted in the band's hard-hitting, exploratory third album, Might-Ay White-Ay.

Fronted by lead singer Invidious aka the Nubian Nightmare, along with the hottest rhythm section in New York, and the Horns of Hell, Mephiskapheles spreads its evil seed with an ongoing reissue program, epic shows, and new music out now.

See you in Hell.

All Them Witches (Night 1)

"Sleeping through the war - this is what we're doing. There are so many terrible things going on in the world and we're just staring at our phones, and we don't see it so we don't care." Having just come in from practicing in the desert, Charles Michael Parks, singer/bassist for All Them Witches, elaborates on the very heavy times in which we all live. Parks and his bandmates - Ben McLeod, Allan Van Cleave and Robby Staebler - are enjoying a brief respite from the endless tour that saw them visit Europe three times in 2016. We've been talking for nearly ten minutes about Einstein's Theory of Relativity, among other things, before we cut through the cosmic fog that surrounds their new album Sleeping Through The War.

"It's tough to get past all the cat videos."

From their earliest days, there has a been a current in All Them Witches' music that has come from outside the continuum of our collective perceptions. On 2013's Lightning at the Door they drew a bigger chalk circle in the center of the crossroads and conjured a haunting occult- blues. On 2015's New West Records debut Dying Surfer Meets His Maker they dove the depths of oceanic canyons and surfaced with a shining psychedelia. Sleeping Through The War is the next step in that progression.

"We write in every way possible," says Parks. "There's no limitations on it, no I'm going to come to it with this song and this is how it's going to go. It's more like stretching your arms out and seeing who can grab what and seeing what fits together from there.

"This is the most I've ever sang on a record, so my writing process was a little bit different than on the other ones. We weren't relying on long, drawn out jam sections we were putting more of a storyline into the songs.

"The songs are catchier, they're faster and there's more singing. Or talking. Or whatever I'm doing."
The result is evidence of the adventure, beauty, and excitement that lies on the other side of the galaxy. The fundamental laws that govern Sleeping Through The War are the same fundamentals that have made ATW a cult favorite - big fuzz, deep grooves, cosmic vision - but the journey through the wormhole has brought something else.

"It's more brain than body," says Parks. "Everybody kind of knows where they are going even if nobody knows where the song is going. We're good at juggling the torch around, making sure everyone gets to play...

"Allan has this really unique approach to playing Rhodes. Robby's drums sound weird in soundcheck he has all of these weird tones but he knows where he's putting them in the mix himself. I have a weird bass tone, but somehow it clicks. We didn't come into it trying to blend our sounds together. That comes from relying on something you already have, relying on something that has its own unique personality."

Years of jamming their way across the country have elevated their performance. Years of interacting with audiences has made their songcraft more responsive. Years of psychic interactions between band members has lead them into a sonic-space headier, more dynamic than any equation could have predicted. In the five years since their formation, over hundreds of performances and thousands of miles travelled, All Them Witches have expanded their corporeality, absorbing ideas both audible and philosophical that push at the thin veil of existence. With three albums that each gained more heft than the one before, All Them Witches has accrued such an immense heaviness that when producer Dave Cobb entered their orbit the very nature of their reality was warped beyond recognition.

"We wrote it in about six days," says guitarist Ben McLeod. "Wherein the past we would have just gone ahead and recorded and written in the studio, we were like nah we're going to do it with Dave, let's be prepared."

"And Eddie Spear, the engineer, he loves doing 8 track records. We obviously didn't make an 8 track record [laughs] but in the back of our minds we were like this guy is gonna think we're a joke if we're doing all of this overdubbing shit. We wanted a record that you could crank. And we wanted girl backup singers."

It might seem like an odd detail - Erin Rae, Caitlin Rose and Tristen add a classic rock flourish, at odds with their earlier catalogs - but it makes sense within the context of the songs and within the context of their career. All Them Witches are at their Ummagumma moment, their Tres Hombres, their Bare Trees. They brought in a mellotron. Their sense of sonic experimentation is so finely honed that even the oddest, toughest moments are warm and relatable.

"We're trying to get to something better - not necessarily just as musicians - but as people," Parks explains. "I've always said that as we change as people, our music changes, that's why we can never make the same records. I can't be in one of those bands. I hope you'll never hear about ‘another predictable album from All Them Witches.' There's no art in that."

Their sound has become so expansive you can her echoes of Dr. John's Gris-Gris and the glacial expanses of Sigur Ros, the fire and brimstone of Appalachian snake charmers and the meditative om of the East. It's the same balance of preparation and improvisation that helped drummer Robby Staebler conjure Sleeping Through The War's vibrant and foreboding cover.

"I'm really into weird, film cameras and that was the original direction of the cover," says Staebler. "Then Ben told me - after working on this for weeks straight, doing all of these layouts, scanning things, looking for old negatives digging things up - he told me ‘Eh, this is kinda boring, dude'. And for 30 seconds I was really fucking pissed.

"But I knew he was right. I knew it wasn't what the record needed and so I just channeled some crazy Chi and the record cover came out. I just stopped thinking about stuff and got out film-negative dyes - for retouching films, it works really great on watercolor paper too - and the rest of it just came together. I found the channel."

Their musicianship is so dialed in, so fluid and adaptable that the most technically complex and sonically detailed passages are fun and fulfilling. All Them Witches are progressing but they have no intention of leaving anyone behind. In a world where so many are distracted and disengaged All Them Witches are seeking to connect on a more visceral, more human level.

"The hardest part was the song "Bruce Lee" - originally the song had this long introduction and not a lot of singing, just a long instrumental," McLeod explains. "And Dave stopped us, had us come into the control room and said, ‘Guys, this is the kind of song that when people hear this they are going to want to listen to the rest of the record. You want people to hear the record and this song is your opportunity.'

"It was weird at first, we were like, but but this is how the song goes with the long intro and stuff. We played with some splices and it ended up being what it is now and I think it is groo-oovy."

Lead single "Bruce Lee" is a perfect distillation of the All Them Witches aesthetic - whirlwind guitars, way out vocals and propulsive rhythms that recall Springsteen's late-night power drives as much as they do Kyuss riding into the blood-red sunset. "Don't Bring Me Coffee" is an aggro blast of anthemic, 120 Minutes-grade powerfuzz, that toys with the power dynamic between the beautiful and the ugly.

"Alabaster" feels like William S. Burroughs intoning to South Bronx breakdancers while the album closer "Internet" sees the band slip so far behind the beat it feels like they've slipped from the grasp of space-time itself. These tracks make the case that the gravity of All Them Witches is warping the space-time in which we all exist and that Sleeping Through The War is the sort of heaviness these weird times demand.

"If everybody would look out for everybody we wouldn't have any problems," says Parks. "If everybody had enough space to breath we wouldn't have any problems...the hardest part is that everybody wants to be happy but nobody knows how to get there."

"Sleeping through the war - this is what we're doing. There are so many terrible things going on in the world and we're just staring at our phones, and we don't see it so we don't care." Having just come in from practicing in the desert, Charles Michael Parks, singer/bassist for All Them Witches, elaborates on the very heavy times in which we all live. Parks and his bandmates - Ben McLeod, Allan Van Cleave and Robby Staebler - are enjoying a brief respite from the endless tour that saw them visit Europe three times in 2016. We've been talking for nearly ten minutes about Einstein's Theory of Relativity, among other things, before we cut through the cosmic fog that surrounds their new album Sleeping Through The War.

"It's tough to get past all the cat videos."

From their earliest days, there has a been a current in All Them Witches' music that has come from outside the continuum of our collective perceptions. On 2013's Lightning at the Door they drew a bigger chalk circle in the center of the crossroads and conjured a haunting occult- blues. On 2015's New West Records debut Dying Surfer Meets His Maker they dove the depths of oceanic canyons and surfaced with a shining psychedelia. Sleeping Through The War is the next step in that progression.

"We write in every way possible," says Parks. "There's no limitations on it, no I'm going to come to it with this song and this is how it's going to go. It's more like stretching your arms out and seeing who can grab what and seeing what fits together from there.

"This is the most I've ever sang on a record, so my writing process was a little bit different than on the other ones. We weren't relying on long, drawn out jam sections we were putting more of a storyline into the songs.

"The songs are catchier, they're faster and there's more singing. Or talking. Or whatever I'm doing."
The result is evidence of the adventure, beauty, and excitement that lies on the other side of the galaxy. The fundamental laws that govern Sleeping Through The War are the same fundamentals that have made ATW a cult favorite - big fuzz, deep grooves, cosmic vision - but the journey through the wormhole has brought something else.

"It's more brain than body," says Parks. "Everybody kind of knows where they are going even if nobody knows where the song is going. We're good at juggling the torch around, making sure everyone gets to play...

"Allan has this really unique approach to playing Rhodes. Robby's drums sound weird in soundcheck he has all of these weird tones but he knows where he's putting them in the mix himself. I have a weird bass tone, but somehow it clicks. We didn't come into it trying to blend our sounds together. That comes from relying on something you already have, relying on something that has its own unique personality."

Years of jamming their way across the country have elevated their performance. Years of interacting with audiences has made their songcraft more responsive. Years of psychic interactions between band members has lead them into a sonic-space headier, more dynamic than any equation could have predicted. In the five years since their formation, over hundreds of performances and thousands of miles travelled, All Them Witches have expanded their corporeality, absorbing ideas both audible and philosophical that push at the thin veil of existence. With three albums that each gained more heft than the one before, All Them Witches has accrued such an immense heaviness that when producer Dave Cobb entered their orbit the very nature of their reality was warped beyond recognition.

"We wrote it in about six days," says guitarist Ben McLeod. "Wherein the past we would have just gone ahead and recorded and written in the studio, we were like nah we're going to do it with Dave, let's be prepared."

"And Eddie Spear, the engineer, he loves doing 8 track records. We obviously didn't make an 8 track record [laughs] but in the back of our minds we were like this guy is gonna think we're a joke if we're doing all of this overdubbing shit. We wanted a record that you could crank. And we wanted girl backup singers."

It might seem like an odd detail - Erin Rae, Caitlin Rose and Tristen add a classic rock flourish, at odds with their earlier catalogs - but it makes sense within the context of the songs and within the context of their career. All Them Witches are at their Ummagumma moment, their Tres Hombres, their Bare Trees. They brought in a mellotron. Their sense of sonic experimentation is so finely honed that even the oddest, toughest moments are warm and relatable.

"We're trying to get to something better - not necessarily just as musicians - but as people," Parks explains. "I've always said that as we change as people, our music changes, that's why we can never make the same records. I can't be in one of those bands. I hope you'll never hear about ‘another predictable album from All Them Witches.' There's no art in that."

Their sound has become so expansive you can her echoes of Dr. John's Gris-Gris and the glacial expanses of Sigur Ros, the fire and brimstone of Appalachian snake charmers and the meditative om of the East. It's the same balance of preparation and improvisation that helped drummer Robby Staebler conjure Sleeping Through The War's vibrant and foreboding cover.

"I'm really into weird, film cameras and that was the original direction of the cover," says Staebler. "Then Ben told me - after working on this for weeks straight, doing all of these layouts, scanning things, looking for old negatives digging things up - he told me ‘Eh, this is kinda boring, dude'. And for 30 seconds I was really fucking pissed.

"But I knew he was right. I knew it wasn't what the record needed and so I just channeled some crazy Chi and the record cover came out. I just stopped thinking about stuff and got out film-negative dyes - for retouching films, it works really great on watercolor paper too - and the rest of it just came together. I found the channel."

Their musicianship is so dialed in, so fluid and adaptable that the most technically complex and sonically detailed passages are fun and fulfilling. All Them Witches are progressing but they have no intention of leaving anyone behind. In a world where so many are distracted and disengaged All Them Witches are seeking to connect on a more visceral, more human level.

"The hardest part was the song "Bruce Lee" - originally the song had this long introduction and not a lot of singing, just a long instrumental," McLeod explains. "And Dave stopped us, had us come into the control room and said, ‘Guys, this is the kind of song that when people hear this they are going to want to listen to the rest of the record. You want people to hear the record and this song is your opportunity.'

"It was weird at first, we were like, but but this is how the song goes with the long intro and stuff. We played with some splices and it ended up being what it is now and I think it is groo-oovy."

Lead single "Bruce Lee" is a perfect distillation of the All Them Witches aesthetic - whirlwind guitars, way out vocals and propulsive rhythms that recall Springsteen's late-night power drives as much as they do Kyuss riding into the blood-red sunset. "Don't Bring Me Coffee" is an aggro blast of anthemic, 120 Minutes-grade powerfuzz, that toys with the power dynamic between the beautiful and the ugly.

"Alabaster" feels like William S. Burroughs intoning to South Bronx breakdancers while the album closer "Internet" sees the band slip so far behind the beat it feels like they've slipped from the grasp of space-time itself. These tracks make the case that the gravity of All Them Witches is warping the space-time in which we all exist and that Sleeping Through The War is the sort of heaviness these weird times demand.

"If everybody would look out for everybody we wouldn't have any problems," says Parks. "If everybody had enough space to breath we wouldn't have any problems...the hardest part is that everybody wants to be happy but nobody knows how to get there."

All Them Witches (Night 2)

"Sleeping through the war - this is what we're doing. There are so many terrible things going on in the world and we're just staring at our phones, and we don't see it so we don't care." Having just come in from practicing in the desert, Charles Michael Parks, singer/bassist for All Them Witches, elaborates on the very heavy times in which we all live. Parks and his bandmates - Ben McLeod, Allan Van Cleave and Robby Staebler - are enjoying a brief respite from the endless tour that saw them visit Europe three times in 2016. We've been talking for nearly ten minutes about Einstein's Theory of Relativity, among other things, before we cut through the cosmic fog that surrounds their new album Sleeping Through The War.

"It's tough to get past all the cat videos."

From their earliest days, there has a been a current in All Them Witches' music that has come from outside the continuum of our collective perceptions. On 2013's Lightning at the Door they drew a bigger chalk circle in the center of the crossroads and conjured a haunting occult- blues. On 2015's New West Records debut Dying Surfer Meets His Maker they dove the depths of oceanic canyons and surfaced with a shining psychedelia. Sleeping Through The War is the next step in that progression.

"We write in every way possible," says Parks. "There's no limitations on it, no I'm going to come to it with this song and this is how it's going to go. It's more like stretching your arms out and seeing who can grab what and seeing what fits together from there.

"This is the most I've ever sang on a record, so my writing process was a little bit different than on the other ones. We weren't relying on long, drawn out jam sections we were putting more of a storyline into the songs.

"The songs are catchier, they're faster and there's more singing. Or talking. Or whatever I'm doing."
The result is evidence of the adventure, beauty, and excitement that lies on the other side of the galaxy. The fundamental laws that govern Sleeping Through The War are the same fundamentals that have made ATW a cult favorite - big fuzz, deep grooves, cosmic vision - but the journey through the wormhole has brought something else.

"It's more brain than body," says Parks. "Everybody kind of knows where they are going even if nobody knows where the song is going. We're good at juggling the torch around, making sure everyone gets to play...

"Allan has this really unique approach to playing Rhodes. Robby's drums sound weird in soundcheck he has all of these weird tones but he knows where he's putting them in the mix himself. I have a weird bass tone, but somehow it clicks. We didn't come into it trying to blend our sounds together. That comes from relying on something you already have, relying on something that has its own unique personality."

Years of jamming their way across the country have elevated their performance. Years of interacting with audiences has made their songcraft more responsive. Years of psychic interactions between band members has lead them into a sonic-space headier, more dynamic than any equation could have predicted. In the five years since their formation, over hundreds of performances and thousands of miles travelled, All Them Witches have expanded their corporeality, absorbing ideas both audible and philosophical that push at the thin veil of existence. With three albums that each gained more heft than the one before, All Them Witches has accrued such an immense heaviness that when producer Dave Cobb entered their orbit the very nature of their reality was warped beyond recognition.

"We wrote it in about six days," says guitarist Ben McLeod. "Wherein the past we would have just gone ahead and recorded and written in the studio, we were like nah we're going to do it with Dave, let's be prepared."

"And Eddie Spear, the engineer, he loves doing 8 track records. We obviously didn't make an 8 track record [laughs] but in the back of our minds we were like this guy is gonna think we're a joke if we're doing all of this overdubbing shit. We wanted a record that you could crank. And we wanted girl backup singers."

It might seem like an odd detail - Erin Rae, Caitlin Rose and Tristen add a classic rock flourish, at odds with their earlier catalogs - but it makes sense within the context of the songs and within the context of their career. All Them Witches are at their Ummagumma moment, their Tres Hombres, their Bare Trees. They brought in a mellotron. Their sense of sonic experimentation is so finely honed that even the oddest, toughest moments are warm and relatable.

"We're trying to get to something better - not necessarily just as musicians - but as people," Parks explains. "I've always said that as we change as people, our music changes, that's why we can never make the same records. I can't be in one of those bands. I hope you'll never hear about ‘another predictable album from All Them Witches.' There's no art in that."

Their sound has become so expansive you can her echoes of Dr. John's Gris-Gris and the glacial expanses of Sigur Ros, the fire and brimstone of Appalachian snake charmers and the meditative om of the East. It's the same balance of preparation and improvisation that helped drummer Robby Staebler conjure Sleeping Through The War's vibrant and foreboding cover.

"I'm really into weird, film cameras and that was the original direction of the cover," says Staebler. "Then Ben told me - after working on this for weeks straight, doing all of these layouts, scanning things, looking for old negatives digging things up - he told me ‘Eh, this is kinda boring, dude'. And for 30 seconds I was really fucking pissed.

"But I knew he was right. I knew it wasn't what the record needed and so I just channeled some crazy Chi and the record cover came out. I just stopped thinking about stuff and got out film-negative dyes - for retouching films, it works really great on watercolor paper too - and the rest of it just came together. I found the channel."

Their musicianship is so dialed in, so fluid and adaptable that the most technically complex and sonically detailed passages are fun and fulfilling. All Them Witches are progressing but they have no intention of leaving anyone behind. In a world where so many are distracted and disengaged All Them Witches are seeking to connect on a more visceral, more human level.

"The hardest part was the song "Bruce Lee" - originally the song had this long introduction and not a lot of singing, just a long instrumental," McLeod explains. "And Dave stopped us, had us come into the control room and said, ‘Guys, this is the kind of song that when people hear this they are going to want to listen to the rest of the record. You want people to hear the record and this song is your opportunity.'

"It was weird at first, we were like, but but this is how the song goes with the long intro and stuff. We played with some splices and it ended up being what it is now and I think it is groo-oovy."

Lead single "Bruce Lee" is a perfect distillation of the All Them Witches aesthetic - whirlwind guitars, way out vocals and propulsive rhythms that recall Springsteen's late-night power drives as much as they do Kyuss riding into the blood-red sunset. "Don't Bring Me Coffee" is an aggro blast of anthemic, 120 Minutes-grade powerfuzz, that toys with the power dynamic between the beautiful and the ugly.

"Alabaster" feels like William S. Burroughs intoning to South Bronx breakdancers while the album closer "Internet" sees the band slip so far behind the beat it feels like they've slipped from the grasp of space-time itself. These tracks make the case that the gravity of All Them Witches is warping the space-time in which we all exist and that Sleeping Through The War is the sort of heaviness these weird times demand.

"If everybody would look out for everybody we wouldn't have any problems," says Parks. "If everybody had enough space to breath we wouldn't have any problems...the hardest part is that everybody wants to be happy but nobody knows how to get there."

"Sleeping through the war - this is what we're doing. There are so many terrible things going on in the world and we're just staring at our phones, and we don't see it so we don't care." Having just come in from practicing in the desert, Charles Michael Parks, singer/bassist for All Them Witches, elaborates on the very heavy times in which we all live. Parks and his bandmates - Ben McLeod, Allan Van Cleave and Robby Staebler - are enjoying a brief respite from the endless tour that saw them visit Europe three times in 2016. We've been talking for nearly ten minutes about Einstein's Theory of Relativity, among other things, before we cut through the cosmic fog that surrounds their new album Sleeping Through The War.

"It's tough to get past all the cat videos."

From their earliest days, there has a been a current in All Them Witches' music that has come from outside the continuum of our collective perceptions. On 2013's Lightning at the Door they drew a bigger chalk circle in the center of the crossroads and conjured a haunting occult- blues. On 2015's New West Records debut Dying Surfer Meets His Maker they dove the depths of oceanic canyons and surfaced with a shining psychedelia. Sleeping Through The War is the next step in that progression.

"We write in every way possible," says Parks. "There's no limitations on it, no I'm going to come to it with this song and this is how it's going to go. It's more like stretching your arms out and seeing who can grab what and seeing what fits together from there.

"This is the most I've ever sang on a record, so my writing process was a little bit different than on the other ones. We weren't relying on long, drawn out jam sections we were putting more of a storyline into the songs.

"The songs are catchier, they're faster and there's more singing. Or talking. Or whatever I'm doing."
The result is evidence of the adventure, beauty, and excitement that lies on the other side of the galaxy. The fundamental laws that govern Sleeping Through The War are the same fundamentals that have made ATW a cult favorite - big fuzz, deep grooves, cosmic vision - but the journey through the wormhole has brought something else.

"It's more brain than body," says Parks. "Everybody kind of knows where they are going even if nobody knows where the song is going. We're good at juggling the torch around, making sure everyone gets to play...

"Allan has this really unique approach to playing Rhodes. Robby's drums sound weird in soundcheck he has all of these weird tones but he knows where he's putting them in the mix himself. I have a weird bass tone, but somehow it clicks. We didn't come into it trying to blend our sounds together. That comes from relying on something you already have, relying on something that has its own unique personality."

Years of jamming their way across the country have elevated their performance. Years of interacting with audiences has made their songcraft more responsive. Years of psychic interactions between band members has lead them into a sonic-space headier, more dynamic than any equation could have predicted. In the five years since their formation, over hundreds of performances and thousands of miles travelled, All Them Witches have expanded their corporeality, absorbing ideas both audible and philosophical that push at the thin veil of existence. With three albums that each gained more heft than the one before, All Them Witches has accrued such an immense heaviness that when producer Dave Cobb entered their orbit the very nature of their reality was warped beyond recognition.

"We wrote it in about six days," says guitarist Ben McLeod. "Wherein the past we would have just gone ahead and recorded and written in the studio, we were like nah we're going to do it with Dave, let's be prepared."

"And Eddie Spear, the engineer, he loves doing 8 track records. We obviously didn't make an 8 track record [laughs] but in the back of our minds we were like this guy is gonna think we're a joke if we're doing all of this overdubbing shit. We wanted a record that you could crank. And we wanted girl backup singers."

It might seem like an odd detail - Erin Rae, Caitlin Rose and Tristen add a classic rock flourish, at odds with their earlier catalogs - but it makes sense within the context of the songs and within the context of their career. All Them Witches are at their Ummagumma moment, their Tres Hombres, their Bare Trees. They brought in a mellotron. Their sense of sonic experimentation is so finely honed that even the oddest, toughest moments are warm and relatable.

"We're trying to get to something better - not necessarily just as musicians - but as people," Parks explains. "I've always said that as we change as people, our music changes, that's why we can never make the same records. I can't be in one of those bands. I hope you'll never hear about ‘another predictable album from All Them Witches.' There's no art in that."

Their sound has become so expansive you can her echoes of Dr. John's Gris-Gris and the glacial expanses of Sigur Ros, the fire and brimstone of Appalachian snake charmers and the meditative om of the East. It's the same balance of preparation and improvisation that helped drummer Robby Staebler conjure Sleeping Through The War's vibrant and foreboding cover.

"I'm really into weird, film cameras and that was the original direction of the cover," says Staebler. "Then Ben told me - after working on this for weeks straight, doing all of these layouts, scanning things, looking for old negatives digging things up - he told me ‘Eh, this is kinda boring, dude'. And for 30 seconds I was really fucking pissed.

"But I knew he was right. I knew it wasn't what the record needed and so I just channeled some crazy Chi and the record cover came out. I just stopped thinking about stuff and got out film-negative dyes - for retouching films, it works really great on watercolor paper too - and the rest of it just came together. I found the channel."

Their musicianship is so dialed in, so fluid and adaptable that the most technically complex and sonically detailed passages are fun and fulfilling. All Them Witches are progressing but they have no intention of leaving anyone behind. In a world where so many are distracted and disengaged All Them Witches are seeking to connect on a more visceral, more human level.

"The hardest part was the song "Bruce Lee" - originally the song had this long introduction and not a lot of singing, just a long instrumental," McLeod explains. "And Dave stopped us, had us come into the control room and said, ‘Guys, this is the kind of song that when people hear this they are going to want to listen to the rest of the record. You want people to hear the record and this song is your opportunity.'

"It was weird at first, we were like, but but this is how the song goes with the long intro and stuff. We played with some splices and it ended up being what it is now and I think it is groo-oovy."

Lead single "Bruce Lee" is a perfect distillation of the All Them Witches aesthetic - whirlwind guitars, way out vocals and propulsive rhythms that recall Springsteen's late-night power drives as much as they do Kyuss riding into the blood-red sunset. "Don't Bring Me Coffee" is an aggro blast of anthemic, 120 Minutes-grade powerfuzz, that toys with the power dynamic between the beautiful and the ugly.

"Alabaster" feels like William S. Burroughs intoning to South Bronx breakdancers while the album closer "Internet" sees the band slip so far behind the beat it feels like they've slipped from the grasp of space-time itself. These tracks make the case that the gravity of All Them Witches is warping the space-time in which we all exist and that Sleeping Through The War is the sort of heaviness these weird times demand.

"If everybody would look out for everybody we wouldn't have any problems," says Parks. "If everybody had enough space to breath we wouldn't have any problems...the hardest part is that everybody wants to be happy but nobody knows how to get there."

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