#Cass McCombs

[dustedmagazine]

Weak Signal — Fine (12XU)

Weak Signal has been my pick for “best rock band you never heard of” for a few years now, and this fourth full-length only strengthens the argument. It pulls their clanking, grinding VU-ish drone in new and intriguing directions—an acoustic blues folk a la Aquarian Blood, a guitar-heavy clangor akin to Crazy Horse—without sacrificing any core competencies. It adds some guests, including Hot Chip’s Alexis Taylor, Doug Shaw of Gang Gang Dance and Cass McCombs, without diluting the locked in synchrony of its three founding members.

To review, Weak Signal is a three-piece led by Mike Bones who is linked to some cool NYC noises via an association with Endless Boogie and a stint with Soldiers of Fortune (Kid Millions is also a member). Sasha Vine plays mostly bass, but also a little violin and sings. Tran, the drummer, also sings. They’ve been a band for about seven years, and Dusted has favorably reviewed two of the three previous albums, 2021’s Bianca and 2022’s War on War.  

Fine is an advance for Weak Signal but not a shock. Though most of its songs sound very much in line with previous albums, it diverges in some fruitful ways. Both “Out on a Wire,” and “Baby” begin in a frenzy of feedback and improvisation, beginning side one and side two of the vinyl edition in exhilarating freefall.

“Out on a Wire” coalesces eventually into Weak Signal’s trademark vamp, a dissolute cousin to “Peter Gunn” that slinks and struts and smirks and all but has a lit cigarette dangling from the corner of its mouth. And yet, it’s pure rock and roll, this cadence, full of menace but also vibrating with heart and vulnerability, talk-sung with bracing cynicism but sweetened by boy-girl harmonies.

“Baby” is more of a surprise, because once the din lets up, a softer aesthetic emerges in jangling folk acoustic chords and soft lyricism. It’s an appealing shift, and it continues through “Terá Tera,” a fragile, pretty but deeply felt cut that puts me in mind of other unplugged psychedelic garage rockers: Aquarian Blood, The Duchess and the Duke and the Gris Gris’ Greg Ashley’s solo work.

The best cut, though, is “Wannabe,” a blown-out guitar-psych tune with shades of ragged glory. That’s the one where Cass McCombs guests, and if it’s him letting the long notes fly at the beginning, they should consider offering him a full-time gig. If Weak Signal’s songs have had a flaw up to now, it’s been a certain dank claustrophobia. This cut blows the doors down and lets some light in.

Weak Signal entertainingly imagines life as a Brian Jones-style figure in “Rich Junkie,” tapping into a pre-digital fantasy of rock ‘n roll excess (and financial rewards). Though spiritually part of a strung-out but brilliant lineage, Fine will likely never buy a mountain villa for anyone involved. It’s just another good one from a band you ought to know but probably don’t. Why not fix that right now? You owe it to yourself.

Jennifer Kelly

[sonicziggy]

"Baby" by Cass McCombs https://ift.tt/YrzF8mQ

[tratadista]

Cass McCombs - "Medusa's Outhouse" 

[thequietabsolute]

Four favourites daily 🎨 # 25

link to this spotify mixtape

[purplealbumoftheday]

today's purple album of the day is: Wit's End by Cass McCombs!

[gloriousnoise]

New Cass McCombs video: Music Is Blue

Video: Cass McCombs – “Music Is Blue” Video by Scott Kiernan. From Heartmind, out now on Anti-. We all love music. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t. And I definitely wouldn’t be. But here we are. Reading about, and writing about, and — most importantly — listening to music. Cass McCombs understands the obsession. And lives it. Once upon a time, I told myself Music was all there was Like a…

[momentmovementum]

Watch Sacred Heart on YouTube Music

[aquariumdrunkard]

Aquarium Drunkard presents Cass McCombs | The Teragram Ballroom | Los Angeles | March 3rd

https://teragramballroom.com/tm-event/cass-mccombs-band/

[dustedmagazine]

Listed: Glassine

Glassine is the musical moniker of Baltimore-based producer Danny Greenwald. Greenwald’s most widely known release to date is probably 2015’s No Stairway, an album crafted out of field recordings taken inside the retail chain Guitar Center. His most recent release is Radial,a collaboration with Horse Lords drummer Sam Haberman, reviewed in last month’s Dust. Tim Clarke wrote that Radial “veers between malfunctioning electronica (“Up, Together, Reach”), throbbing ambient drone (“St. Pete”), clattering percussive workouts (“Brushes in Woodstock”), and what could almost pass as vaporwave (“Behind a Seatbelt”).” For Greenwald’s contribution to Listed, he chose 10 things that have inspired him other than Nirvana.

Pink Floyd — “Bike”

I used to hang out with this guy in high school who ate a lot of acid. Now he is a Hasidic Jew. We were close. He made high-quality iron-on decals with a fancy printer he had sent to a church across the street because he bought it with a stolen credit card. He made a t-shirt that said on the front, “I’ve got a mouse and it hasn’t got a house, I don’t know why I call him Gerald.” And on the back, it said, “he’s getting rather old but he’s a good mouse.” When I first heard the song “Bike” I thought it was the stupidest thing I had ever heard. It’s obviously brilliant and I was a dumb kid and Syd Barrett is my favorite guitarist. Watch him shred.

Jason Urick — Husbands

Husbands by Jason Urick

The first show I ever enjoyed that only used a laptop was Jason Urick performing in some warehouse in Baltimore. I would go see him play in various other venues with unclean floors, but I’d usually lie on my back toward the front. Everyone would stand kind of far back from Jason and his laptop in the way you’re probably picturing, but I would lie down. His seamless textural transitions are a guiding light. I listened to Husbands on headphones 1,000,000 times lying on my back. In bed, usually.

The Microphones — Mount Eerie

When I first heard this album, it blew my mind. I knew all of Phil Elverum’s previous albums, but this was on some whole other trip. It’s my favorite Microphones record. Me and my friend Brian would listen to it in its entirety in his driveway in his small Toyota Yaris in Pikesville, Maryland, at like 3am. I LOVE the line that goes, “you’re soccer balls on knees.”

“I know you’re out there, You’re lanterns on lakes / I know you’re out there, You’re soccer balls on knees... through your skirt I see... your legs gracefully / I know you’re out there, you’re swaying and pleased / I know you’re out there, you’re vultures in trees / I know you’re out there In mountainous peaks.”

Cass McCombs — “AIDS in Africa”

This song taught me an incredible lesson about the usage of metaphor and allusion in songs. Listen to the entire song — then do some research — then think about the line, “Survivor cells are chanting ‘Ali, Bomaye.’” I used to write a lot of words; however the lesson has very much crossed over into how I go about textural arrangements, field recordings, samples, and what have you.

My mom, Donna Greenwald

Outlook, “Anthem Annie”

My mom sang the National Anthem at every Major League Baseball stadium. I’m not a big fan of the song, however I was able to travel across the country on a train because she was able to wrangle corporate sponsorships in the ’90s for her “National Anthem Tour.” Only an amazing lady could pull off something like that. Self-PR in the days of phone books and small-town newspapers. Learn more about Donna Greenwald by listening to this podcast episode I made about her.

Horace Andy — Dance Hall Style

Once when I was 15 or so I walked into The Sound Garden, a record store in Baltimore, and asked what I should listen to. The person walked (almost urgently) to the reggae section in the back of the store and handed me Dance Hall Style on CD. Horace Andy looks so cool on the cover. Also, I intrinsically had a lot of trust in the person who helped me because he also looked very cool. Lyrically, the album is very heady. And his voice is so expressive. The production sounds like outer space in the mind of an extremely sensitive man.

MF DOOM and all of his monikers/collaborations

Daniel Dumile was the cleverest person to walk the earth. He was an insanely talented and underappreciated producer. He was an immense talent and the world is less enjoyable without him. He felt like the most distant stranger that I kind of knew from someplace. He helped me get through some really difficult times.

Own his own throne, the boss like King Koopa On the microphone he flossed the ring (“Super!”) Average emcees is like a TV blooper MF DOOM, he’s like D.B. Cooper

Grateful Dead — Dark Star, Rotterdam Civic Hall, Rotterdam, Netherlands 5-11-72

I grew up on the Dead. Here is a 48-minute version of one of my favorite songs. I don’t have anything more to say about it.

“Shall we go, you and I, while we can through the transitive nightfall of diamonds?”

Panda Bear — Person PItch

Also a great non-album track recorded at The Ottobar in 2007

Person Pitch was a game changer for me. I was already into atmospheric and druggy music that sounded like waterbeds, but this record utilized discernible samples, like skateboards and infants crying. Panda Bear turned all his samples into clay and treated them like weather patterns. I saw him perform at The Ottobar when the album came out. He used two SP303s (which were actually used to record the entire album) and a small mixer on stage with a very organized row of SmartMedia cards. Here is the tour poster hanging in my studio. I colored parts of it because I was working at a summer camp and had unfettered access to an array of markers. Also, I love his voice and Person Pitch is a play on Pet Sounds. That’s cool. Also, WZT Hearts opened and Jason Urick was in that band.

CELESTIAL WHITE NOISE | Sleep Better, Reduce Stress, Calm Your Mind, Improve Focus | 10 Hour Ambient

I fall asleep to this every night.

Björk — Unravel

This is one of my favorite songs. Everything about it. Heartbreaking. The End.

While you are away My heart comes undone Slowly unravels In a ball of yarn

The devil collects it With a grin Our love In a ball of yarn

He’ll never return it So, when you come back We’ll have to make new love

[sinceileftyoublog]

Jennifer Castle Interview: Recognize My GPS

Photo by Jimmy Limit

BY JORDAN MAINZER

I first came across Canadian singer-songwriter Jennifer Castle ten years ago, upon the release of her fourth album Pink City. Enraptured by its lush arrangements, I caught her live at the Hideout later that fall, only to watch her play the record front to back, with no breaks in between, on solely acoustic guitar, putting its awe-filled lyrics front and center. Ever since then, I've realized Castle is an artist who can do it all--she'd follow up Pink City with 2018's grief-stricken, expansive Angels of Death and 2020's unvarnished, semi-improvised folk record Monarch Season. And whenever she comes out with an album, it seems like it comes just when you need it, at the right time of year to boot. Alas, earlier this month, Castle dropped Camelot (Paradise of Bachelors), another autumn opus that finds something celestial in the earthbound.

On Camelot, Castle culls from the best qualities of her previous records. Unsurprisingly, it returns many of the same personnel, like members of her venerable backing band: guitarist Jeff McMurrich, who co-produced it, as well as drummer Evan Cartwright, bassist Mike Smith, guitarist Paul Mortimer, and vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig. Jonathan Adjemian, who played piano and organ on Angels of Death, bolsters the choogling mid-album highlight "Mary Miracle" and sweeping ballad "Fractal Canyon". Legendary composer Owen Pallett, who provided string arrangements to much of Pink City, does the same for dramatic ballad "Blowing Kisses", a song that, prior to Camelot's release, appeared in an episode of the third season of The Bear. In a sense, Camelot could be a good entry record for those unfamiliar with Castle's albums and performances. It's got a gentle guitar waltz ("Trust") and solo performance ("Earthsong") as well as expressive, upbeat folk songs (the title track, "Louis").

Yet, Camelot simply sounds bigger than Castle's prior music. That's partly attributable to her looser control of the band. For the first time, Castle played only acoustic guitar on the record, giving control of the piano and keys to Carl Didur. The band's mission to unlock the rhythms of the songs, like puzzles waiting to be solved, eventually sees them play up their 70's rock and country influences. "Lucky #8" finds something holy in dance. Backed by slide guitar from none other than Cass McCombs, Castle sings, “So just give the money to the dancers / While their hips go figure eight / And they entrance us with the answers / And we hope and pray the message ain’t too late.” "Full Moon in Leo", meanwhile, juxtaposes a psychedelic keyboard groove with saxophone from in-demand multi-instrumentalist Stuart Bogie, a strutting country tune with a hazy, flower power AM radio edge. It's one of a few times on the album where the song is self-aware. "I did not come here to talk about orange / And all of the things that have come up before us / And Florida and that warm catchy chorus," Castle sings, her free association-style rhyming giving you a front row to her state of mind. The song is a mix of absurd substance and style: At one point, Castle actually sings, "Big hair, don't care."

What's best about Camelot, though, is Castle's mere control of language. For one, she can write tongue twisters that make your ears itch. On "Earthsong", she sings, "Names are small, and names are games / And forces gain good ground / When light moves tat the speed of sound." On "Blowing Kisses", she declares, "I'm not a beggar to language any longer," and later follows it up with a well-timed obscenity that's a humblebrag statement of conquering: "I'm so fucking honored." On "Fractal Canyon", she sprinkles details of people who sound so mythical they have to be real. "I'm with Paul, who's speaking in an Irish accent / Him and I wear tiger eye, and that's no accident / I take comfort in the stripe, the stone of protection / From Daffodil Bill and the thrill of rejection." Whether or not you know who these people are, it's the line repeated over the song's verses that matters most: "I'm not alone here." In the world of music--from her backing band to the characters in her songs--the writer who often performs on stage by herself is anything but solitary.

I spoke to Castle last month over Zoom about how Camelot fits in within her discography, her writing and recording process, capturing negative human emotions, and stripping down her songs for stage. Read our conversation below, edited for length and clarity.

Jesse Harris' Camelot cover art

Since I Left You: The themes on Camelot alternate between the very real and tangible and the more cosmic and abstract. Can you talk about that interplay?

Jennifer Castle: I wonder if that interplay is always present with my songwriting, which tends to feel like an opportunity to travel great distances while, at the same time, tipping your cap to exactly where you are. In writing, it feels very beneficial for me to recognize my GPS, where I am at the moment, whether that's details, something very literal, or something very grounding that I can mention, I can take to ground the concepts, which often tend to try to transcend where I am at the time. I think both distances, the small, minute place, and the large, vast, potentially infinite spaces, are interesting to try to map out when I'm making a record.

SILY: I see that in all of your songs, but it did stand out to me on this record.

JC: I think you're right. There were definitely times when I was recording where I was trying to address larger orbits, larger spheres.

SILY: I might be a little bit taken by the sound of it, too, because your previous record was comparatively minimally arranged. What inspired your decision to make this a much fuller sounding record with a band?

JC: I think Monarch Season was more of a definitive decision than Camelot was. It's challenging for me to be as consistent in vibe as Monarch Season was. I [wanted] to make a record where I set a tone and [continued] that tone all the way throughout. I tour a lot solo because it's accessible, and people afterwards would come to me and say, "What record is like what you just did?" And I'd say, "I don't actually have one." I was always describing my records, saying, "Pink City has these arrangements," and "Angels of Death has a band," so I really made a decision to make Monarch Season the way it was. Camelot returns back to a natural musical sensibility where I like all different types of songs.

Monarch Season also came out right as the pandemic happened. I had made it while I was really busy touring. I stole away a weekend in 2019. It was released at a time when some people were in really still, quiet places, at home. It was seen as something bare and minimal, and collectively, we were going through something that was more essential or quiet. While I was going through those years, I was back to imagining all those great spaces I can take up. I envisioned the Camelot songs sounding the way they did before we even made them.

SILY: Some songs on Camelot do lend themselves to the way you play live, but others I'd be interested to see how you bring down to something more stark. Did you write the songs on guitar before fleshing them out?

JC: More or less. Maybe "Blowing Kisses" I wrote on piano. I think that might be it on this record. I just played acoustic guitar in my kitchen. My son was home a lot--he wasn't in school at the time--so I wrote them at home with my little life happening around me. I have distinctive memories of, not writing in lyric, but strumming out "Mary Miracle" and thinking, "What a funny tune!" It has a propulsion to it. I could already hear it. It's almost like it was already there and I was waiting to get to go and record it.

SILY: That's funny--I wrote down "propulsive" a lot when listening to this record. I love on "Mary Miracle" how you're ranting and you don't finish your sentence before you go back into the chorus: “And I want to know how you came to value / The practice of dragging by the hair those pals who / On their invisible crosses / Of their capitalist bosses / Who in the trash tossed out / That red beating thought that / That all is not lost and / That belief at all cost and...”

JC: I felt this record had a little bit of a breathlessness to it in general. It felt lyrically exhaustive. I don't mean that as a diss to myself, but it had a run-on-sentence aspect to it. Monarch Season, the songs were more lyrically refined or even taking a page from haiku. This one felt like the narrative always could have had one more thing to say. That even presented itself in the recordings and performances. They're wordy.

SILY: Were there any newfound aesthetic or instrumental influences on Camelot?

JC: I certainly have never just played acoustic guitar all throughout a record before. I gave the majority of the piano and keys to Carl Didur, and the rest to Jonathan Adjemian, who does the run on "Mary Miracle". I sat back and let us perform as a band ensemble. I hadn't done that consistently throughout a record before. I often perform bed tracks and build them, and maybe a handful of songs we'll do together, or there's more of a balance between built bed tracks and recording. Other than the two spare guitar songs that I play, [on Camelot,] we went in together. It has a cool ensemble feel, which I love, and I'd like to learn more about how to do that and trust that process.

SILY: That makes a lot of sense. For instance, I had never heard a song of yours ever quite like "Lucky #8" or "Full Moon in Leo", that give jangle pop and Dolly Parton/Emmylou Harris vibes, respectively.

JC: I don't know all of everybody's songs or catalogs, but I've gotten their downloads. I know the energy. Often, people are more taken back live when I share that, but I can embody the energy really easily. I don't know that I had necessarily put it on record before. Even "Sparta" on Pink City was built up from a really spare bed track. Songs that are more rock songs that I've made were more architecturally built. "Lucky" has flourishes, but we got it as a band together. Same with "Full Moon in Leo".

SILY: Even the songs you recorded as a band together have an aspect of restraint that's reminiscent of some of your earlier work: the calmness of the title track, the way "Louis" is built around the bass line.

JC: I always have a fairly funny joke with the people I'm recording with: I don't mean it literally, but I always say we're in a crew. It's kind of like Lord of the Rings. We all have to hunker down together, we all have to find the groove, and not many people get to have fun. Then, there'll be a moment where the bass gets to go for a tour, or maybe we hear something from the guitar player. There's lots of rock music where everybody is doing tons of stuff. If we're going to be together, I like us to hunker in together and hit the groove. That's more of a style I think I have.

SILY: I wanted to ask you about the following lines on "Trust": “Scientists insinuate / That facts are facts and lines are straight / Doctors say they can help / Then stoke you with the fear of death," and, “Church is good / church is great.” Are you bouncing back and forth in tone on those lines? Are you at all being facetious? From what perspective are you singing?

JC: I think that song was the last song we recorded. The band had never heard it. It wasn't even really a song before we recorded it, but I had a hunch it was maybe a song. That song starts with really basic human negative emotions we're all prone to and then scales it out to places where people are in a position of power. The way I think about it, you have the church, then the medical fields and science, then government. [The song] keeps going for places where power is played up. I think it's interesting that it at first links it to these basic human emotions we all feel. I didn't have something I was trying to get across in that song. I had a hunch it would be interesting to include something more paranoid and uneasy with this collection of songs, even though I wasn't quite sure how it would fit in. I thought that was kind of cool, in a resonant way.

I learn a lot about that song when I listen to it, too. I still have things to learn about it. I don't know where it's necessarily entirely coming from, or what it means. But I don't think it has a particular meaning. What I've gleaned is that what starts out in our tiny resonant selves can escalate. You can be in a massive position of power and just work from core human emotions, and those are the negative ones: cynicism, jealousy, anger. I'm not saying they're not good or that I've never felt them. I'm just saying they're there and they run through us. How do those work? At what place do they stop being within the cages of our own being, and more into what we think of as social and collective?

SILY: "Trust" fittingly comes after "Some Friends", a song that deals with the complexities of friendship and interpersonal relationships. I feel like "Trust" is like "Some Friends", but amplified.

JC: ["Some Friends"] has betrayal right up front. Sometimes, I like to get the tough stuff out at the front of the record. I remember when I was sequencing Pink City, I was like, "We have to have 'Working For The Man' and 'Nature' up front." People were saying, "Put 'Sailing Away' up front!" and I said, "No, no, no, we gotta...introduce the spectrum of feelings that might be on the record." There are hurt feelings on "Some Friends". I hadn't really explored that too much. I don't think it's bitter, I think it's more hurt. When you're a writer, you can turn a phrase really quickly and cast it off as being bitter or cynical. I've done that a million times and probably still will. I like sharp wit. But I thought there was something sitting a little more complicated in those first couple songs.

SILY: On "Lucky #8", when you sing, “And I don’t want to lose ya / You’re my only audience / Nor will I abuse ya / By not making sense,” are you breaking the fourth wall and making a comment about obtuseness in songwriting?

JC: [laughs] I like the idea of breaking the fourth wall. It's another thing that would fall under the GPS context, making it suddenly very clear where your position is and where you're at, at the very moment. "Suddenly, I'm singing, and I'm looking directly at the audience." That song is an absolute run-on sentence to me. By the time I get to that place, there is a part of me saying, "Don't turn away yet, I'm trying to get somewhere." At the same time, I think there's me, the human, that wants to communicate so much, and me, as an actual person, I really struggle to communicate. I'm probably really obtuse on a good day when I'm in my kitchen. So I try to communicate really clearly in song, but at the same time, I believe song is like an abstract art. I like abstraction. I've even thought about that line but then thought, "Don't go out of your way to make too much sense if it doesn't serve the moment." Allow things to kind of be multi-faceted or have lots of ambiguity in them. I like that [songwriting is] an abstract art. I want [my songs] to live in spaces that aren't mine and minds and hearts that aren't mine, so I have to cherish abstraction on some level. I have that in common with a lot of people, that it's hard to communicate from our deepest wells of what we think and feel. As a writer, I stab away at it.

SILY: I also wanted to ask you about the album art. If I had heard the record first, or picked up the record in a store based on the art and listened later, I'd feel there was a definite contrast between the starkness of it and the lushness of the record. Was that an intentional contrast?

JC: I gave it all to Jesse Harris, a Toronto artist I admire. He has a severity to him. It's like he's carrying a sword. He cuts away everything in his artwork that doesn't need to be there. There's a very severe austerity to his work, and he's deeply funny. I offered him an opportunity to design the record. Lyrically and sonically, it's really detailed and rich, so I sent him the link to the record, and it wasn't too long until he sent me back the door. I was like, "Oh my god, what does it mean?" and then thought, "Okay, yeah, the door, I love it." [The cover] could have been baroque or a whole visual world to match. In that simple gesture, I think we got to go through the door, and from there, it unfolded. I don't want to speak for him, but I remember in the early days when we were designing it, he saw Camelot as a land he was referencing, like on an old board game like Snakes and Ladders, where you never know where you're ending up, where you can fall down and lose everything, or you can keep climbing and get somewhere. He saw it as a hard place to navigate and wanted to convey that, not to make linear sense of it but to know that there's a journey, or that somewhere, someone's trying to get somewhere. I love the door now. I think it's iconic for this particular record. It's so simple.

SILY: Have you performed these songs live?

JC: I'm just starting to. I performed "Lucky #8" a few times a few years ago when I was on tour with Godspeed You! Black Emperor, as well as "Louis". That's when Jeff McMurrich, who co-produced the record with me, heard them, and asked, "What are those run-on sentence songs you were singing?" [laughs] But I haven't played that many shows. I played "Trust" for the first time last week when I was in Halifax. I hadn't ever played it save for when we recorded it. I just started to play "Fractal Canyon". I've never played "Mary Miracle". They're just starting to come around now.

SILY: Is it just as rewarding as an artistic endeavor to bring the songs back down to their bare elements for an audience, as it was to make them in the first place?

JC: Yeah, it's kind of cool to start to get to know them. I've never played "Full Moon in Leo". I think a band is going to start to rehearse for some shows. That will be cool to hear them with a rhythm section and the vocalists. Me playing them solo is tender. It reminds me of where I was when I wrote them, which can be a really weird element of time-travel.

SILY: It puts you in the same headspace as their original inception. Does that help you connect more with the audience?

JC: I think it does. Catching it on these early incarnations is cool for the audience. You're really hearing something more becoming even if it has a recorded version. Years from now, I'll have played "Full Moon in Leo" dozens of dozens of times, and I'm sure it'll be great, but it'll be really cool to hear these songs start to come to life.

SILY: Are you planning on coming to Chicago?

JC: I'd love to! I'd love to come to the States. The UK is popping up, and Canada is popping up, but it's challenging with the visas to get over to the States. I have to trust, and if people want me to come, I always like to go. It just takes a couple of people, a festival or a promoter reaching out, and I can start to piece it together. But I don't have anything planned. It's challenging I can't just pop over [to Detroit]. I had to say no to a couple shows a couple weeks ago because they would have put me in that region. But it was last-minute, and these visas are very expensive. They take quite a long time to process, months and months. Hopefully, in 2025, I'll come to the States. It would seem weird not to. We are neighbors. [laughs]

SILY: Is there anything else next in the short or long-term for you?

JC: I'm just gonna be trying to get these [songs] up and running to tour. I have a couple shows coming up for the Winter Solstice I play every year. In terms of writing, just a little bit. I'm not taking a break, but I'm focusing more on how to present this music.

SILY: Is there anything you've been listening to, watching, or reading that's caught your attention or inspired you?

JC: I'm sure there has, but I can't really think of it right now. I'm mostly just getting outside and walking around. But I love my friends and the music they make.

Tour dates

12/20: Tranzac Club, Toronto, ON

12/21: Tranzac Club, Toronto, ON

1/22: The Artesian, Regina, SK

1/23: Handsome Daughter, Winnipeg, MB

1/24: TBD, Saskatoon, SK

1/25: CKUA Radio Performance Hall, Edmonton, AB

1/26: The Palomino, Calgary, AB

2/13: The Globe, Cardiff, UK*

2/14: St Luke’s Church at Queens Park, Brighton, UK*

2/15: EartH, London, UK*

2/16: Hare & Hounds, Birmingham, UK*

2/17: St Mary’s Creative Space, Chester, UK*

*with Jake Xerxes Fussell

[thequietabsolute]

… i want to be famous for falling in love 🎶

[thebowerypresents]

Cass McCombs – Music Hall – September 25, 2024

Genre- and emotion-spanning singer-songwriter Cass McCombs recently reissued his debut EP and first two LPs in addition to putting out Seed Cake on Leap Year, an album of unreleased music from the turn of the millennium. Out on a short six-city swing, the sometimes-NYC resident was back in Brooklyn on Wednesday to play Music Hall of Williamsburg.

Photos courtesy of Savannah Lauren | @savannahlaurenphoto

[manitat]

Slušam...

[momentmovementum]

Watch Not the Way on YouTube Music