One Way Or Another… This Darkness Has Got To Give

Posted by davenative on June 11, 2014

Last week, we served up a rare live track from a multi-track tape of an undated Native show at Wetlands.

We see no reason why we shouldn’t continue on with another stupendous Catherine Russell performance from the same night.

Native was not prone to do a lot of other folk’s material, but this tune just seems like it was made for us to play and for Catherine to sing. And, since the Grateful Dead hardly ever performed it in their shows, we can safely say that this is (in all humility) one of the best versions you’ll ever come across.

So, enjoy!

I (Dave) am off like a prom-dress, for a couple of weeks, to play some shows with my family band – The Blue Lick Victory Club – in Louisville, KY. As much fun as this blog is to do each week, I do sometimes have to pry myself away from the Davecave, see some sunshine & do some pickin’ & grinnin’.

So hang tight — we’ll pick up where we left off when we resume in July. There’s lots of Wyckoff-era Native rare goodies left in the vault that we will be exhuming for your listening pleasure.

Thanks to everyone who follows us, and who have made this blog so much fun to prepare. You are the reason we do this, and we love you!

See you soon!

New Speedway Boogie (Wetlands 1997)

Catherine Russell wants some action (and Native’s got it!)

Posted by davenative on June 4, 2014

There are a lot of great singers in this talent-filled world, but one thing we all agreed on in Native, was that Catherine Russell was our favorite singer. Catherine had briefly been in a band with Dave and Mike, before the Native epoch began in 1992 a.d. Dave had seen her singing with a cover band in Greenwich Village, and was wowed by her powerful voice, and marveled at how such a big sound could emanate from such a petite lady. But, it was her performance on several Meters tunes that sent him scurrying to curry favour, convinced she was destined for the big time. And, besides… Meters tunes. (The Meters are a constant factor in the Native chronology, but Dave & Mike were already playing quite a lot of their material.) She agreed against all better judgement to come down to The Radon Room, Dave’s studio on Mott Street, and meet this motley assemblage called The Illbillies (aside from Dave & Mike, there was Craig Robison, Sean Pace, and Grant). Catherine played with the band for a few weeks, and we have some pretty great tapes in the vault from this time-period. But sadly, she then decided that although she liked us all personally, we were indeed quite motley, not just in appearance, but in our playing. We just weren’t tight. But, she encouraged us to keep going, and we did. The Illbillies would burn through two more singers before calling it a day without ever playing one gig. Chastened by the gigless end to that band’s journey, Mike & Dave intrepidly trudged onward, recording a demo of a song that had been a stalwart entry at every Illbilly rehearsal – Dave’s Something Worth Remembering (as heard on Nativology Vol. 1). And with that, history was written in lighting! In the coming years, Native got tight, and Catherine returned for the occasional guest spot in our shows, and they were all a highlight. Believe it, when she sings, it’s magic time! Our favorite singer – Her Royal Majesty – a true Lady of Soul – the ever-amazing Catherine Russell.

Action (Wetlands 1997)

Your Love’s Lost… And Found

Posted by davenative on May 28, 2014

Hey Native People of all stripes (including those with actual stripes!)

You’ve been such a well-mannered group, and your karma is at such a high level for not throwing brickbats at Dave (@davenav) for his choices in what to present to you in this, our on-going weekly blog celebrating the vast vaults of vivid, yet vainglorious variegation in our labyrinthian lair of little-known lore, that we’ve decided to throw ya’ll a bone!

We’re temporarily, and temporally, deactivating the chronological component of this exercise, and jumping into Mr. Peabody’s Wayback Machine for a journey to that fabled year of 1993, when people had hair that covered their entire bodies, fashion trends had not yet been invented, and social media meant owning a Sony Walkman with a mono speaker plugged in. So, move over Sherman! Break out the tie-die tees, and Twizzlers!

Today, we unearth a lost song in the annals of Nativedom — one that was written in a fever-dream by Dave, with lyrics written in an overlit New School Classroom by Anthony Balsley, Native’s original lead singer. Ironically, it is a lost song about something that is lost.

A real fan favorite, the tune made the transition to the Mat Hutt Regency Era, and flourished until the Bronze Age, sometime around the discovery of the frock coat.

We played this song a lot, indeed, it appears on the cassette from which today’s version originates, twice. This unmarked tape was uncovered too late to include it where it rightly should be, on Nativology Vol. 2. It was recorded during one of our weekly stints at the mythical Wetlands Preserve, by the legendary archer and soundman, John Leteurza.

Later that same year, when John Epstein joined the band, and the great epoch of silly voices was born, that seems to be when this song fell into the La Brea Tar Pits of 26th Street, Manhattan. Left to lie undiscovered, with not even a tape cover to mark it’s passing, but perfectly preserved — until now.

This is the core five-piece Native. Mat Hutt – of Rhythm Guitar, Lead Vocal, and double-take-inducing stage announcements. Matt Lyons – of blockbusting bass, undying fealty to Stax Records, and strange northern sporting teams. Michael Jaimes, guitar god, mischievous imp, owner of three tee shirts. John Wood, of Percussion ensemble, fishing tackle, and Space Cadet Decoder Ring. David Thomas – of too many drums, and way too much cymbalism.

(But, don’t worry Chris Wyckoff fans! We’ll return to our regularly scheduled trip through the Wickedly Weird Wyckoffian Age, in next week’s ultra-thrilling edition of Nativology Vol. 4.)

So here it is — sit back with a hefty stein of Mead, and enjoy a stirring tribute to being left colder than yesterday’s lunch —

Love’s Lost

Sing along with Native! Yee Haw!

Posted by davenative on May 21, 2014

As I’ve gone through the Native mixes for the Exhale On Spring Street album, I’ve been struck by how closely we hewed to the plan for the album. The songs we chose all made it to the released version, and there are very few notable outtakes.

What we *do* have, however, is the opportunity to eventually put out a hi-res version of Exhale, and include some bonus remixes done by engineer Craig Randall, and myself, @davenav – your humble blogger (and someone who would love to have you follow my twitter account).

But, there is one item left from the Exhale sessions that we at Native Central would like to share, and it’s pretty unique.

For some reason, we did what’s called a TV Mix – meant to be used if the band appeared on a television show, but had to play to a backing track. In cases like this, there usually was a live vocal, with everything else canned.

We never used it, nor do we know why we chose this particular song, nor do I think we would have mimed to a backing track anyway. But, we made this mix, and now you can sing along with the lyrics below. Karaoke!

Pendleton Roundup TV MIx

It’s the Pendleton Roundup
It’s as good as it gets
Biggest little town in the
Whole Northwest
You might get your picture
In the Police Gazette
Steer ropin’, saddle-bronc,
Ridin’ events

Well, Bob Fletcher’s Famous
Mounted Roundup Band
Will introduce the entrance
Of the Indians
And all the cowboys competing
In the main event
Will ride, rope, and brand
For the championship

Well, it’s the Pendleton Roundup
It’s as good as it gets
Biggest little town in the
Whole Northwest
You might get your picture
In the Police Gazette
Steer ropin’, saddle-bronc,
Ridin’ events

We drew for mounts
And I drew Cul-de-sac
No one’d ever stayed
On the old hoss’s back
With the reins in my left
And my hat in my right
I hoped I hadn’t cinched
That saddle too tight

Well, it’s the Pendleton Roundup
It’s as good as it gets
Biggest little town in the
Whole Northwest
You might get your picture
In the Police Gazette
Steer ropin’, saddle-bronc,
Ridin’ events

It’s the Pendleton Roundup
It’s the Pendleton Roundup
It’s the Pendleton Roundup
A little thing called a rodeo

(Guitar solo)

I smiled at the judges
And the snubbing crew
As he hit the ground hard
And turned like a screw
‘Tween me and that hoss
There was lots of sunshine
Then a straight-a-way
Followed by a High kick behind

Their mouths were hung open
When they saw Cul-de-sac
Canter to a stop as
I stepped from his back
And all the cowboys knew
If I was still on my feet
That Yakima Canutt would be
The rider to beat

Well, it’s the Pendleton Roundup
It’s as good as it gets
Biggest little town in the
Whole Northwest
You might get your picture
In the Police Gazette
Steer ropin’, saddle-bronc,
Ridin’ events

It’s the Pendleton Roundup (x6)

A little thing called a rodeo

Steer-Ropin’, Saddle-Bronc, Riding Events!

Posted by davenative on May 14, 2014

In our years as a band, we covered a lot of territory – rock, funk, reggae, folk, blues, rockabilly, ska…

But, I remember quite clearly the day I suggested to the band that we try our hand at a Country – or, more precisely – a Western song. I wanted us to be able to say, as the Blues Brothers did, that we play both kinds of music – Country *AND* Western.

But, my interest in old westerns, particularly the singing cowboy oaters of Roy Rogers, was a big part of my suggestion.

Having written a script about legendary film director, John Ford, and in the process uncovering significantly arresting material on the equally legendary stuntman, Yakima Canutt, I endeavored to take bits & bobs of Yak’s early rodeo exploits and cram them into a song in a genre I had, until that moment, avoided – Country Rock.

To my enduring surprise, the band not only responded in the affirmative, after an off-the-cuff recital of the lyrics on the way to a gig in Maine, but the alacrity with which my song was thrust into our set lists was, considering the lack of success I’d had with so many preceding composition-offerings, it left my head spinning!

But, I should not have been surprised. It’s a great song, if I do say so myself.

The speed with which it was assimilated into our repertoire meant that it represents a departure from our normal modus operandi when it came to the recording process. Usually, we would play a song for months, if not years, before we set it in stone, so to speak.

My rodeo tune was recorded in that hot August of 1997, just weeks after I wrote it, when we spent a feverish weekend laying down tracks for the Exhale On Spring Street album.

It went on to become a tentpole in all our future set-lists. Now, it’s a part of the soundtrack to my play, Barnstorm, and I’ve written many C&W songs since then.

But, none mean more to me than this ode to a rodeo rider whose impact was such that he is even listed in our album credits as Stunt Co-ordinator!

Here it is, just the way it sounded before adding Catherine Russell and Woody on vocals, and another legend – Buddy Cage on Steel Guitar. It’s a good example of how tight we were, that this was laid down completely live in the studio — heck, we were so good, we could have maybe played in Bob Fletcher’s Famous Mounted Round-up Band!

Pendleton Roundup (Alt. Mix)

Good, good Levin!

Posted by davenative on May 7, 2014

Well, it’s Wednesday, and I smell cornbread, so there must be some Native music coming your way! As Marlon Brando said in Last Tango In Paris, “Pass me the butter.”

We’ve been looking through the Native Tape Archive, buried deep in the southwestern mountains of Moldavia, for quite some time. And, we’ve covered a lot of ground, for the archives are replete with sumptuous piles of incredible unreleased songs, and a variety of other rarities.

I, your humble archivist and curator – davenative, have had a ball poring through all the recordings this wonderful band left in its’ wake. We had our own recording studio, and we gathered there diligently at least twice a week for the entire duration of our decade of decadent existence – so, there is a lot to ponder, assess, and reassess.

As the band drummer, I’m in a unique position to know of the many riches to be mined in these cavernous vaults.

This week’s spelunking has lead us to an outtake from our second studio album. As I go through the session tapes, I’m rediscovering some deep cuts that feature a different mix, and I must say it’s a revelatory experience, to say the least. With the passage of time, I now have the luxury of stepping back and enjoy something in a way that I couldn’t before – as Producer, I was too enmired in the chromadots, as it were, to see the big picture.

Case in point – I’m blown away by how we built something new atop the now-established Native stylistic platform.

We never lost our ability to try something new, and expand the our horizons. We were exploring the jungle of our own habitat.

We had great writers, fantastic singers, a wonderful front-man in Mat Hutt, a powerful rhythm section, and a procession of unique and demented keyboard players.

But, even with all that, we had a particular ace up our sleeve – Michael Jaimes.

I’ve always felt that Mike was a world-class guitarist, easily in the same league as any of the giants of rock, (and a damn sight better than some – sorry, Slash) and it’s just a shame that to this day, he remains unrecognized as such, except by a small, but passionate coterie of fans.

Mike was my best friend, but I must admit that I was also a fan. Going through the tapes is always a mixed blessing because of that – as much as I love uncovering, and sharing all these performances, it’s a bit tough to hear Mike’s never-ending quest for guitar immortality over and over, week after week. He was just so good – so endlessly inventive. I’ve played with a lot of guitarists, and admired so many others over the years, but no one – NO ONE — can match that certain something that Mike always brought to the party.

Today’s tune features keyboard dynamo Pete Levin, who came to Brass Giraffe Studios one hot Saturday in July 1997, and laid down this smoking track in one take.

As amazing as that is, equally amazing is the sympathetic support Mike offers in his highly intuitive call and response, and as he and Mat harmonize their guitars in sterling, funky, melodic riffing.

(And, lest we forget, Chris Wyckoff throws in some tasty organ-flavored atmostphere, as he transitioned into the permanent keyboard spot for the next three years!)

This track appeared in a different mix on our Exhale On Spring Street long player, which can be obtained for a pittance on our Bandcamp site, iTunes, AmazonMP3, and Gabby Hayes.org.

We do recognize, of course, in our mercenary little hearts, that…

Love Should Be Free (Alt. Mix)

Will I Find Satisfaction?

Posted by davenative on April 30, 2014

The question is a rhetorical one, for it comes with a presumption of what the heck ‘Satisfaction’ actually means.

For your intrepid vault plunderer, having the Native tape trove transferred to digital and archived has been seen as a mission that might perhaps end with a sense of being satisfied; a feeling of conclusion; a closing of a book.

That can never be, of course, because I will always be struck by the lack of larger success that was to be the fate of this fabled band that I was in called Native.

Case in point: today’s Cornbread Wednesday offering.

Everything that was great about Native is on display here: Mat Hutt’s sinuous lead vocal is a thing of purity, with soulful conviction by the ton, and his lyrics never veer off into the woods of the prosaic as they ask an eternal, burning question. John ‘Woody’ Wood‘s harmony vocal is like a sports car with rack & pinion steering, in the way it follows the Highway 1 twists & turns of Mat’s beseeching lead. Mike Jaimes – are there accolades enough for this guitar colossus? The rhythm section is just dead on the money, with Matt Lyons‘ percolating bass nailing way more than the one beat. My drumming is, IMHO, very good here, as I basked in the new technique I’d been working on with that drumming master, Todd Turkisher. And, let’s not overlook Woody’s contribution on percussion! His singular approach is akin to a rock skipping over water, except it goes on and on and on!

Finally, applause please for Mr. Peter Levin on Wurlitzer piano. His deft touch is resplendent here, and soul galore is infused in that very understated solo!

Craig Randall‘s mix can hardly be called a ‘ruff’ as it was so often described on the DAT covers from these sessions. Each mix variant has it’s qualities, and unique moments, but they are invariably wonderful, with little if any adjustments needed in order to bring them to you in these highly satisfying Wednesday posts.

Satisfaction

How Sweet It Is…

Posted by davenative on April 23, 2014

Greetings Native aficionados, and other strange creatures!

We’re back with another exciting go-round on the Native Vault merry-go-round, as trawl through the labyrinth of tapes with only our base instincts to guide us, and daft mixe-metaphors to express ourselves with.

As curator of said vault, I can avow to the difficulty sometimes encountered in this musty chamber of rusting relics, and mis-labeled tapes.

This week’s audio delights hail from a DAT tape that bequeathed far less than advertised on it’s front cover.

In the weeks and months that followed Native’s epic weekend at Brass Giraffe Studio, whenever there would transpire a session (like, say, when we brought in Catherine Russell for her mighty contribution to the background vocals) the effervescent and deranged Craig Randall would send us home with a tape of that night’s work, and other nifty mixes that he’d done.

The tape we are examining this week was filled with wonderful mixes from early sessions, and included things like Buddy Cage‘s additions to Outlaw, which weren’t used on the album, but would make for positively cracking bonus tracks (which is pretty much what these Nativology volumes amount to).

Alas, alack, and you gotta be kidding me! Having cued up the tape for transfer, it was a shock to hear, instead of those vaunted mixes, a crappily-recorded Native rehearsal from 1999.

Guess we never thought we’d ever be looking back in fondness of all the hard work that was invested in these sessions… live and learn.

NEVER RECORD OVER STUFF, people!

(Sorry for shouting….)

Anyway, here are two excellent Craig Randall rough mixes from early 1998.

The first one owes a lot to Chris Wyckoff, who goaded your humble narrator into one more take, when I was getting pretty pooped after a long first day. As it turned out, this was the only song from that day we kept. With that one gesture, Chris permanently certified his inclusion in our motley ranks.

The second one shares the distinction of having two keyboardists. On Sweet Intensity, John Watts returned for one last session – adding the tasteful piano part to a song he had done so much to bring to life. On Love Should Be Free, we had Pete Levin in the studio with us, tracking live, with Chris dubbing in organ later, and it’s as funky as you want to be!

Sweet Intensity (Alt. Mix)

A Tale of James McKinley

Posted by davenative on April 9, 2014

Native entered Brass Giraffe Studio in July of 1997 to record an album’s worth of tunes, and rewrite our destiny.

Our destiny, it had been foretold by all manner of business-folk, was to languish in obscurity for having the temerity to offend record companies with what we had thought was an ace up our collective sleeve — variety.

Yes, by the the mid-nineties, variety had become a pox upon the house of commercial radio, and by extension, no record executive in his overly-paid mind would think of signing an artist who, heaven forbid, actually performed anything other than the same song over and over again, ad infinitum. Just change the title, make it grungy, and don’t veer from the formula!

Native, of course, were never formula followers. So, the dilemma was this – either accept the fact that the band could never reach a mass audience who supposedly demanded uniformity and conformity in its entertainment, or we could go merrily on our way — writing for our audience who were anything but conformist, and whose bemusement at the shoddy practices of a soon-to-be-bankrupt music industry demanded that we strive eternally for that golden piece of wonder – inspiration – and that we never kowtow to marketing wizards with no soul or appreciation for anything but the almighty dollar, and endless replays of Stairway To Heaven, and Free Bird.

Thus, our insurrection began – we stepped blithely in the studio, fully knowing that our next record would fly in the face of the perverted accepted ‘wisdom’ of that bygone time, and we came up with an album that, while not a world-beating sales monster, was a winner in every other way.

Fitting it is, then, that today’s tune is about a malcontent, a rogue, an insurrectionist – James McKinley – Rover!

This is Native, with no overdubs, live in the studio, with new keyboardist Chris Wyckoff, engineered by Craig Randall, and Sean Brophy.

Rover (Alt. Mix)

Nativology Vol. 4 Doth Commence!

Posted by davenative on April 2, 2014

Greetings, Nativologists!

And welcome to another chapter in the long and whiney road that I, Sir Dave of Knave, Corningshire, have humbly offered for, lo, these past two years.

In our previous chapter – late 1996 saw John Watts’ departure from our ranks. This was followed by a half-year sojourn in which Native was back to the core five-piece line-up that had formed from molten lava in ’92; back to basics, but with a twist.

We were better musicians; better at being a band; better as individual performers; most importantly, we had improved as songwriters to the point where we were now writing material meant to fit together as the larger whole of the new album we were planning.

All of the first half of ’97 was preparation for the second half. The new songs developed in the waning months of ’96 would now be honed to perfection over a period of 6 months, as Native gigs grew in frequency, and profile.

In the meantime, we kept a lookout for someone who could fill the void in the keyboard department, and (lucky for us) over the summer, we got to know Chris Wyckoff from playing together at McGovern’s Bar, our home base on Spring Street, New York City.

Chris’ affinity for New Orleans/ Professor Longhair/Art Neville funk was just what we were looking for, but he was adept enough to follow our many style mood-swings.

Chris’ inauguration came during our album sessions, which began in July, 1997, and we will delve into those sessions in upcoming posts. But, today, let’s jump to our first gig with Chris Wyckoff, from that same month.

Mary Had A Little Lamb (McGoverns 7-15-97)
Running Smooth (McGoverns 7-15-97)
Cissy Strut (McGoverns 7-15-97)