#chris smither

[cosmogyros]

In my opinion, Chris Smither wrote one of the greatest, pithiest, most brutally critical songs about the American empire of all time:

Diplomacy

We're getting edgy, we'd better find a war There must be something worth fighting for Peace is so peaceful, it ain't no way to survive When nobody hates you, nobody knows you're alive

We got the guns, we got the oilmen too They're like a choir, they wanna sing for you Wham! Bam! Slip slidin' away You know, the less you got, the more you gonna pay

You want it, you'll get it We got what you need You ain't got to sweat it We gonna make you bleed

We got some freedom, we got the iPod store We got the savior, you couldn't ask for more Take it or leave it, that's the deal of the day But if you leave it, you'll get it anyway

You want it, you'll get it We got what you need You ain't got to sweat it We gonna make you bleed

Get your coat on, you ain't supposed to laugh This ain't a joke, it's an epitaph It's the rise and the fall, that's the name of the game It's the land of the free, the blind leading the lame It's the land of the free, the blind leading the lame

[krispyweiss]

Song Review: Chris Smither - “Down in Thibodaux”

Chris Smither remembers his childhood neighbor, Boudreaux - and makes up the rest of the story - on “Down in Thibodaux.”

A patchwork of styles as only Smither threads them, the track announces the May 3 release of All about the Bones. It finds Zak Trojano’s drums tangling with Smither’s mic’d shoes while Chris Cheekus’ sax spirals outward and Smither sings alone and in harmony with BettySoo:

Don’t bring him any money, bring him beer instead/he looks a little strange, that’s not a possum on his head/that’s a chapeaux/down in Thibodaux

“Down in Thibodaux” sounds like no one but Smither. And Smither sounds like no one else. So while the track breaks no new ground, it doesn’t have to - Smither, at 79, remains on his own path.

Grade card: Chris Smither - “Down in Thibodaux” - A

2/23/24

[waugh-bao]

Chris Smither performs “Leave The Light On” (2024)

[tfc2211]

Play ▶ Bet No One Ever Hurt This Bad 

Tracks (Various Artists) If You Don't Leave Me Alone (I'm Gonna Find Somebody That Will) - Delbert & Glen The Feeling Is Right - Bobby Hatfield Catfish Mud Dance - The Ventures Charlie The Fer De Lance - The First Edition (Kenny Rodgers) Potatoes - Bones Drunk And Dirty - Rick Roberts Harley Street - The Cornbread Everything's Leaving - Wanda Jackson Mail Order Mystics - Chris Smither Long Road Ahead - Jim Ford The Joke - Howl The Good Working Man Blues - Charlie McCoy Apocalypse 1969 - John Buck Wilkin Ghost Riders - Dennis Linde Home - Browning Bryant It Can't Be Turned Around - Bobby Lance Asphalt Outlaw Hero - Lonnie Mack Scarlett Revisited - Mike Hurst Roll On - Jessi Colter Living On The Run - David Allan Coe It's Been A Good Day - Tom Fogerty I Wonder - Ron Davies Empty White Houses - Redeye Puppet Man - Tom Jones Nobody Knows - Cymbal And Clinger Sweet Thing - Lee Hazlewood & Ann-Margret Tailpipe - Vernon Wray Sandman - Jim Sullivan

[americanahighways]

Favorite Albums of May 2024

Favorite Albums of May 2024 @tylorandthetrainrobbers @Will_Kimbrough @b.h.t.m. @chrissmithermusic @AnnaTivel @JesseDayton @Abigail Lapell @KimRichey @AnyaHinkle @theswampdogg @Kaiakater @the_mavericks @americanahighways #americanahighways #favoritealbums #newmusic2024 #writtenbyahuman

Favorite Albums of May 2024 You voted!  And now the results from the readers’ vote for favorite albums of March 2024 releases are in! Congratulations top twelve!  What a great bunch of albums this month, and this month’s competition was fierce! We had almost 18,000 voters! Check out this list just to see what else was new, too. The top three will be featured in our new AH playlist “New Americana…

[musiconspotify]

Chris Smither - All About The Bones (2024) … an unassuming master …

[listening-through-the-lens]

All Of Chris Smither's Bones

New Music Chris Smither Chris Smither – Photo: Jo Chattman Chris Smither New Single “Down In Thibodaux” New Album ‘All Of The Bones’ Out May 3, 2024 Continue reading All Of Chris Smither’s Bones

[pedroam-bang]

The Hateful Eight (2015)

[reppyy]

[beyondmetaphysics]

Drive You Home Again

[whereifindsanity]

Photo: Chris Smither

[krispyweiss]

Album Review: Chris Smither - All about the Bones

Chris Smither sets All about the Bones’ tone with the first cut - also the title track - from his 19th album.

With Zak Trojano’s light drumming and Chris Cheek’s spooky, serpentine saxophone adding shades of grey to Smither’s mic’d boots and acoustic guitar, the songwriter, on the cusp of his 80th birthday, contemplates what comes next. BettySoo smooths out Smither’s raspy, just-leaving-the-dentist vocals as they sing:

Grim reaper comes a-callin’/says, ‘it’s time to go’/you say, ‘OK, I’m comin’/you movin’ mighty slow/when you say, ‘I don’t belong here/they told me I was saved’/he points one bony finger/he says, ‘get back in your grave’/it’s all about the bones

While the music is uniformly misty and monochromatic, the lyrics are not all doom and gloom. The balladic “Still Believe in You” exudes positivity - or at least contentment - and “Down in Thidodaux” is an irresistible character sketch of an enigmatic fiddler in the Louisiana swamps that makes the listeners want to find the guy and join him for his regular noon beer.

Though he typically tours solo - hence being his own percussionist - Smither captures his live sound with in this expanded studio outfit, which includes piano on “Completion.”

And when Smither closes the LP with his cover of Tom Petty’s “Time to Move On,” it’s hard to know whether he chose it as a bookend to the title track or a springboard to his next project.

Grade card: Chris Smither - All about the Bones - B

8/13/24

[waugh-bao]

I see one of your tags mentioned that you noticed Mick was struggling to keep up when you saw the Stones last year. Something I noticed when I would take a look at a few recordings of the show, and to be fair it was only a few so I could be way off base, but to me it felt like his movements were more...scripted? I'm not sure if that's the right word but it felt like it would be a "ok now I"m going to run the length of the stage" moment that was pre-planned to show he's still got it and not a natural response to the music that is evident in their best shows of the past. I guess it felt more like going through the motions of being Mick Jagger but not really feeling it. Maybe he's just not able to keep up that act as well as he used to.

Like I said, I could be totally wrong. And this isn't at all a slam against Mick because he is still amazingly in shape and though his voice has changed it hasn't changed nearly as much as other singers of his era. I guess I just don't want them to become a parody of themselves and I worry that is going to happen if they don't stop soon. At the same time, I know that people were probably saying the same thing in 2006 or even 1996.

Keith complained in Life about Mick using choreographers, I think it’s something he’s done to one extent or another since the mid-1980s. That said, I know exactly what you mean. What really caught my eye when we saw the show was that Mick moves a lot less in general (he rarely went more than a few feet down the catwalk on stage) and it’s much rarer for him to sing and dance or sing and run, or to jump around at all.

Mick in 2021 singing “Midnight Rambler” (my footage):

Vs Mick in 2024 singing “Satisfaction” (also my footage):

The few times he did run across stage did feel like they were more about proving he could do it than anything to improve the song or spur of the moment impulse. He was also just struggling at our show to hit all his queues and stay in key. Honestly, I think when Charlie died was when it should have ended, or finishing up the No Filter tour and then calling it a day. These last two tours and Hackney Diamonds didn’t show that they’re just as much the Stones without him, it proved the exact opposite.

As to whether they’ll quit before it becomes a bad parody of itself, I don’t know. I saw some reporting that they may not have canceled the proposed 2025 European tour but instead ‘just’ postponed it. At the end of the day, Mick is an old man with a huge ego who has been famous effectively his whole life and with those types it comes to an internal fight between not wanting to be embarrassed/deteriorate on stage and innate arrogance that they’ll always be more amazing than anyone else, so anyone telling them to quit is just jealous or stupid.

[newbornwhumperfly]

more bullets left to bite on…

so thrilled to be writing some sweet interludes before whumptober begins! 😈😍😈 so…as a special treat, here’s friends-with-benefits (and definitely-not-girlfriends) sarai and claudia…💖💖💖

title insp. by the song “leave the light on” by chris smither

~

“Pretty late to be doctoring, huh?”

Sarai scoffs, rubbing the bridge of her nose as if the glasses-dent would just disappear. Glances up through the glare of the lamp to see Claudia, doing her sideways lean into the doorframe, hands shoved in her pockets. 

She wasn’t wearing her usual tanks but the bright yellow tee that didn’t leave any arm muscle to the imagination was dotted with water and a bulky gym bag was slung over her shoulder. 

Jesus, what time is it? A glance at the clock makes Sarai wince. 0316. Ugh, fuck her life. Okay, not fair, labs aren’t gonna file themselves. She meant to close shop earlier today but, well, hindsight is always perfect. As is the foresight you had before the bad decision but oh well.

“Pretty late for boxing practice.” 

Claud shrugs, sling the bag off her broad shoulder to the floor, stepping all the way in. 

“Had too much caffeine, had to hit the gym to get sleepy. Side bins, sit ups…”

“Oh, I hope you didn’t lose that butt?” 

“You know, I hate that Cobi’s infected my wordbank? Stupid.”

“Yeah, I can tell you hate it and think it’s stupid.”

Claudia cracks a grin at that and she pokes her tongue against the gap between her teeth. That’s impossibly cute. Claud’s not cute, she’d insist, but Sarai can think that to herself. She wonders if Claud knows she does that? Wonders if anyone’s told her?

“Yeah, well…” Claud shrugs again and glances up somewhere at the ceiling. “Not gonna be up much later. You?” 

Sarai thinks about lying. About saying yeah, totally, just finishing up here and then going back to work when Claudia leaves. Leans back in her chair and winces at the stretch to her neck when she cranes it back, drawing the flicker of Claudia’s eyes to her. It’s a long, hard stare and suddenly, Sarai is very still. Not…bad, not at all, just, a little pinned in place. How does she do that?

She catches her breath. 

“Shit. I think we’ve both run out of, uh, midnight oil to burn.” 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Sarai swallows hard and definitely doesn’t bite her lip. Nope. The lamplight makes a halo of the beads of condensation on Claud’s fro and the shimmer entrances her as Claud strolls to the little rolly-chair and leans her hip against the edge of the cabinet. 

She looks down, making Sarai glance up, and the gesture makes her wince again from the strain on her muscles. Claudia frowns softly but the little stab of scolding that spikes through Sarai’s head, the why did you make her worry?, melts when Claud says - “These chairs aren’t good for your back.” In a quiet, soft way that makes Sarai’s prickly instincts calm. 

“Ugh, yeah, they really suck.” Sarai wiggles her butt to no effect, for emphasis, the chair barely creaking side-to-side for the effort. It won’t move at all unless she drags herself by her heels over the floor and yeah, the sound is as pleasant as you’d imagine. She really tries not to bitch her workplace out, well, at work, but the gentle quiet, and the single added straw on her aching back, prompts her to grumble, filling the silence. “Orthopedic rolly chairs aren’t in the budget, I suppose. Obviously the Legion is too strapped for cash to afford them.”

It’s worth it to look up at Claud though. She’s so short but she should be looked up at, all five-foot-two. Not for the first time, Sarai really fucking wishes she could get on her knees more often. But there’s lots of ways to look up at a person. It’s been a bit and she’s so tired but, fuck, maybe- 

“Can I?”

Claud holds up a hand, flexes her fingers, and a soft heat ripples through Sarai’s chest, down to her stomach, and something in her sinks further into the chair as she nods. 

Claudia bridges the space between them, easily and calmly, reaching for her glasses. At Sarai’s second, small nod, Claudia deftly pulls them away from her face, looping the beaded string of the cord over her head and folding them, efficient and careful as ever, putting the string around her neck with a little smirk. God. 

She is so careful as she guides Sarai to rest her forehead against Claudia’s belly. It’s soft under the shirt, warm from the gym-shower, solid muscle under a pouch of flesh, and it’s divine actually. Sarai breathes in hard and fast when those firm calluses find the nape of her neck and she gets a noseful of Claud’s smell. The simple, minty deodorant, a trace of talcum power, a touch of sweat lingering. 

Shamefully, but too far gone for shame, she shakily breathes oh when Claud’s fingers rub, seek, find, and the throb starts to unspool with hard, perfect pressure. 

“There it is.” Claud says and it’s so assured and confident and pleased and Sarai really wants to kiss her hipbone, but, frankly, she’s too busy becoming a melted ice cube in this chair. Claudia, of course, holds her up, keeps her braced as the knots get all untied, one by one. Patient and slow and warm. “Better?”

“Uh-huh.” 

“Do you promise to work in your couch and not this stupid-ass chair?”

“…Uh-huh.”

“Liar.”

“Dad.”

“That’s Daddy to you, thank you.”

Sarai giggles and the gruffness of it is a burst of freedom in the quiet sanctum of Claud’s pelvis. God, she needs to shave and she needs to get into pajamas and she needs to take off all her makeup and she doesn’t really feel like being bare right now but there’s just a lot to do. Even just inside the incredibly small sphere of having a fucking body there’s a lot to do. There’s always a lot to do and with resource requests and clinic appointments and talking to smug fucking refugee approval trustees at the shelter and doesn’t one person’s body go at the bottom of the list? 

Sarai gasps when fingertips press hard into the crook of her jaw where she didn’t know she was clenching. 

“Ugh.” Sarai huffs. “Thanks.”

Claud hums and shifts a little, parting Sarai’s curls to get to her shoulder blades, drawing out another groan when her palm digs into another sore spot. 

“Still don’t have the chair?”

“No. Approval’s still pending. I got pushed down the list again cause I wasn’t- doesn’t matter.”

Claudia’s body goes still for a moment. Presses the heel of her palm against Sarai’s neck in a way that’s more…rubbing than massaging. Stroking. It pushes words out of the angry well in Sarai’s throat. 

“Guess when you, uh, don’t work consecutively in the industry for a blip, it breaks your streak and, whoops, now you’re a short-term healthcare worker now. Again.”

Claudia’s quiet again but this time both hands cup Sarai’s head, one hand still stroking her neck, the other sort of soft atop her scalp. Tiny circling rubs. Claudia’s voice is tense and hushed. 

“Want me to fight ‘em?”

“Just keep doing your magic-hands thing.”

Sarai lifts a hand to pat Claud’s thigh. Thinks better of it. Claudia and touch…she might find it weird. Privacy and autonomy and all that good stuff. Better to be safe and save the really spontaneous touch for bed-times, casual-times, chill-benefits-banging-times. 

As she lowers her hand back to her lap, Claud speaks as if fucking psychic. 

“If you wanna…you can sleep with me? My room’s closer than yours.”

God, if only. Sarai’s too sore to so much as jack off, let alone hook up. Regretfully. Claudia smells so good and her stomach is so soft and her hands are so strong. 

“Wish, Claud, but there’s pillow princess and then there’s corpse.” She doesn’t mean to sound whiny, really, but it’s- it’s fine, it is, just a shame is all. It’s just…it all sucks. “I can’t really offer you shit right now.”

“Oh. Nah, I meant…” Claud’s fingers cup over the fine wispy hair on the back of her neck and tingles rush up and down Sarai’s spine. “I meant…sleep. Like…stay over to rest?”

Now it’s Sarai’s turn to be dumbstruck. 

Stay over. Sleep over. Just to sleep. 

What about…rules? Bang it out when stress is high, be chill the rest of the time. What if- she’s definitely gonna be too exhausted to shower, she’s not ready? Not that Claud is- Sarai doesn’t have anything to be ashamed of but what if Claud looks at her differently? She’s sweat-soaked, stubbly and prickly, what if she can’t stand up? What if she overstays her welcome? And why did she offer, just because her room is closer? She doesn’t need a caretaker, she shouldn’t ask for one, she doesn’t want to put that on her, Claud didn’t sign up for this? 

The petting has stopped. 

The warm cup of Claud’s hand pulls away and the cold air on her bare skin makes Sarai shiver, stomach sinking with a cold drop. 

“Nevermind. Sorry. Dunno why I asked.” 

“Claud-”

“Overstepped.”

Claud steps back and away and the absence sends Sarai’s insides plummeting even deeper into the fucking basement, churning, cold, even as she straightens her back, jaw throbbing as she squeezes her teeth together. Her cheeks feel hot and her eyes burn as she glances away pretending to fuss with her hair, pretends to fumble for a tie to bind some of it back. 

Glances up and Claud is scooping her gym back over her shoulder, slung at her front instead of her back, covering that soft belly from sight, and her hands are tight on the straps. 

If Sarai weren’t so prickly, she’d be more worried about the way Claudia’s scowl was so downturned, the way her eyes were so narrowed and fixed on adjusting the straps of her bag. 

But as it is, Sarai’s chest is full of nettles, breathing out porcupine quills, her exhaustion rearing up again to cross her arms over her chest, to press herself back into the chair, to pretend to be calm. 

She breathes out deliberately and manages - “Sorry, just, I’m tired, Claud.” 

The long beat of silence stretches between them and the clock thumps out the seconds and the vent hums so fucking loud and Claud huffs through her nose in a whoosh that’s the kind she does before she steps up to the mat and when she lifts her eyes, they’re dark and pointy and beautiful and Sarai is struck by a shininess there. 

“Was just offering. Like a-…a friend, you know.”

The words don’t hurt anywhere near as much as how softly she says them, jaw all screwed up, mouth softer than it has any right to be, and then she’s turned on her heel and gone. 

Like a friend. 

It’s only when Sarai buries her face in her hands to press against the blur in her own eyes that she realizes Claud took the glasses with her. 

Shit.

~

i hope you enjoyed this little sliver of my girls!!! 🙈💖🥰 they’re both so silly, i knowwww. (don’t worry, they’re just having a panic-feelings-blurb.) 🥺🥺🥺

taglist: @much-ado-about-whumping @whump-tr0pes @haro-whumps @i-eat-worlds @wolfeyedwitch

@straight-to-the-pain @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whatgoeswhumpinthenight

@tears-and-lilies @whumping-every-day @liliability @stoic-whumpee @whumpthisway

@whumpster-draganies @whumpzone @suspicious-whumping-egg @kixngiggles @lave-whump

[americanahighways]

Bentley's Bandstand: May 2024

Bentley's Bandstand: May 2024 @americanahighways @ericbibbmusic @jessedayton @hilarygardnernyc @khruangbin @pokeylafarge @Joe_pernice_brothers @thisisqueenesther @curtissalgadomusic @chrissmithermusic #stanleymouse @mousestudios @stanleymouse @theblasters #billbentley #newmusic2024 #amerianahighways #americanamusic

Bentley’s Bandstand: May 2024 BY BILL BENTLEY Eric Bibb, LIVE AT THE SCALA THEATRE. There are some blues singers that are so unique that it’s hard to really connect them with what blues is often heard as. Eric Bibb has always walked his own side of the street, and the sheer fact thar he’s still flying his own flag so high is a cause for celebration. Bibb’s new album, recorded at the Scala Theatre…