Reviewed by SoDak
I love disfiguring facial hair, especially unruly beards that take on a life of their own. The last several times that I saw Sam Quinn in concert, his bread was scraggly and seemed to be consuming him. If his bangs were long enough to cover his face, Sam could enter a Cousin It contest. Behind the tray on his debut “solo” record, there is a wonderful picture of Sam and his beard—such a beard deserves to be recognized as a separate entity, especially when its mass might be more than the skinny body to which it is attached. Needless to say, Sam’s willingness to let the beard do whatever the fuck it wants for so long impresses me. In the same spirit, Sam creates music that is fiercely honest and independent.
For over five years, Sam played in the Everybodyfields with Jill Andrews. I was fortunate enough to see them six times in Oregon and once in North Carolina. I loved the dynamic between them, as they traded lead vocals on songs and as they passed the bass and acoustic guitar back and forth. On Valentine’s Day, at a show at the Axe and Fiddle in Cottage Grove, OR, they broke our hearts with songs of sorrow, while making us laugh between songs with their light-hearted banter. On Halloween, at a show at Cat’s Cradle in Carrboro, NC, the whole band was in costume, adding to the humor between songs. All three of their records are wonderful. I was eagerly anticipating a new record from them, as they had become one of favorite artists, on a seemingly endless list. But Jill and Sam decided to go separate ways. Fortunately both of them have recently put out top-notch recordings. The way that I see it, the more music I have by them the better.
On Sam’s myspace page, several videos were posted, sharing new songs, building excitement of a new release. On days that I felt more mellow than usual, I would go to his site and just play the video for the song “Hello” over and over again. Like most of his songs, there is a persistent sorrow and loneliness. But there is also comfort. Something in his voice soothes the heart. “Hello” is the first song on The Fake that Sunk a Thousand Ships. For me, this was a perfect choice. My only complaint is that the version on the record is a minute shorter than the video online and over a minute shorter than the early demo on myspace (in the jukebox). I had become accustomed to the longer versions of this song, as I love the space that the song creates. But this is a minor issue. “Fanboy” (the second song) is a haunting song infused with pain: “I never needed anyone except myself.” The sadness swirls throughout the song, “of the things I didn’t do.” Relationships and time are lost along the way. A fiddle touches the heart at the right moments. “I would give anything just to be there.” In the end, Sam states, “I’m the one waiting.”
Different versions of the songs “Suite Motown” (song four) and “Strange Wave” (song five) were previously available online, at the Daytrotter website, as a new Everybodyfields songs. I was pleased that both songs appear on this collection. “Suite Motown” is a catchy song and bounces along, with some wonderful pedal steel playing on it. Damn, I just got lost in the music. It is two in the morning, I keep turning the volume up, as Sam’s voice whispers, occasionally cracks, from the speakers “I’m your gun and I’m loaded baby. I could kill you tonight. I never thought I would hurt you like I hurt you. I can’t get you out of my sight.” The song “Gun” concludes, “I kill myself a little every night.” The following song, “Help Me,” features great backup vocals from Josh Oliver and Megan Gregory, who also play piano and fiddle on this song. Sam sings, “Will you help me?” Josh and Megan answer, “I can’t this time.” Down on the ground, Sam sings, “And I’m tryin to give up the hope for a ghost that can save me?” Disappointment and failure pervade these songs. There is something so fuckin’ real about these feelings, I hit the button to play the song one more time. Once I am inside these songs, I feel myself letting go to explore memories and feelings too often ignored.
Recently, I saw a new video of Jill and Sam playing together, covering Lucinda Williams’s “Something Happens When We Talk.” Sam’s beard was gone, but big, bushy sideburns remained, along with a moustache. It was good to see and hear them singing together again. Several years ago, when I was hiking at Crater Lake, I had a nice conversation with a Harley biker, who had a beard that was at least a foot past his waist. He said that he hadn’t trimmed his beard in thirty-five years. While Sam’s disfiguring beard is no more, at least for the time being, I hope that he continues to release such outstanding music for at least four more decades.
The Fake that Sunk a Thousand Ships is a great album. But it might be one that you listen to alone or on a long drive on an open road that gives you time to immerse yourself in introspection.
I love disfiguring facial hair, especially unruly beards that take on a life of their own. The last several times that I saw Sam Quinn in concert, his bread was scraggly and seemed to be consuming him. If his bangs were long enough to cover his face, Sam could enter a Cousin It contest. Behind the tray on his debut “solo” record, there is a wonderful picture of Sam and his beard—such a beard deserves to be recognized as a separate entity, especially when its mass might be more than the skinny body to which it is attached. Needless to say, Sam’s willingness to let the beard do whatever the fuck it wants for so long impresses me. In the same spirit, Sam creates music that is fiercely honest and independent.
For over five years, Sam played in the Everybodyfields with Jill Andrews. I was fortunate enough to see them six times in Oregon and once in North Carolina. I loved the dynamic between them, as they traded lead vocals on songs and as they passed the bass and acoustic guitar back and forth. On Valentine’s Day, at a show at the Axe and Fiddle in Cottage Grove, OR, they broke our hearts with songs of sorrow, while making us laugh between songs with their light-hearted banter. On Halloween, at a show at Cat’s Cradle in Carrboro, NC, the whole band was in costume, adding to the humor between songs. All three of their records are wonderful. I was eagerly anticipating a new record from them, as they had become one of favorite artists, on a seemingly endless list. But Jill and Sam decided to go separate ways. Fortunately both of them have recently put out top-notch recordings. The way that I see it, the more music I have by them the better.
On Sam’s myspace page, several videos were posted, sharing new songs, building excitement of a new release. On days that I felt more mellow than usual, I would go to his site and just play the video for the song “Hello” over and over again. Like most of his songs, there is a persistent sorrow and loneliness. But there is also comfort. Something in his voice soothes the heart. “Hello” is the first song on The Fake that Sunk a Thousand Ships. For me, this was a perfect choice. My only complaint is that the version on the record is a minute shorter than the video online and over a minute shorter than the early demo on myspace (in the jukebox). I had become accustomed to the longer versions of this song, as I love the space that the song creates. But this is a minor issue. “Fanboy” (the second song) is a haunting song infused with pain: “I never needed anyone except myself.” The sadness swirls throughout the song, “of the things I didn’t do.” Relationships and time are lost along the way. A fiddle touches the heart at the right moments. “I would give anything just to be there.” In the end, Sam states, “I’m the one waiting.”
Different versions of the songs “Suite Motown” (song four) and “Strange Wave” (song five) were previously available online, at the Daytrotter website, as a new Everybodyfields songs. I was pleased that both songs appear on this collection. “Suite Motown” is a catchy song and bounces along, with some wonderful pedal steel playing on it. Damn, I just got lost in the music. It is two in the morning, I keep turning the volume up, as Sam’s voice whispers, occasionally cracks, from the speakers “I’m your gun and I’m loaded baby. I could kill you tonight. I never thought I would hurt you like I hurt you. I can’t get you out of my sight.” The song “Gun” concludes, “I kill myself a little every night.” The following song, “Help Me,” features great backup vocals from Josh Oliver and Megan Gregory, who also play piano and fiddle on this song. Sam sings, “Will you help me?” Josh and Megan answer, “I can’t this time.” Down on the ground, Sam sings, “And I’m tryin to give up the hope for a ghost that can save me?” Disappointment and failure pervade these songs. There is something so fuckin’ real about these feelings, I hit the button to play the song one more time. Once I am inside these songs, I feel myself letting go to explore memories and feelings too often ignored.
Recently, I saw a new video of Jill and Sam playing together, covering Lucinda Williams’s “Something Happens When We Talk.” Sam’s beard was gone, but big, bushy sideburns remained, along with a moustache. It was good to see and hear them singing together again. Several years ago, when I was hiking at Crater Lake, I had a nice conversation with a Harley biker, who had a beard that was at least a foot past his waist. He said that he hadn’t trimmed his beard in thirty-five years. While Sam’s disfiguring beard is no more, at least for the time being, I hope that he continues to release such outstanding music for at least four more decades.
The Fake that Sunk a Thousand Ships is a great album. But it might be one that you listen to alone or on a long drive on an open road that gives you time to immerse yourself in introspection.
His guitar player also has a nice beard, but not quite disfiguring.
ReplyDeleteLove this record. Can't wait for the next one.
ReplyDelete