By Jacob Katel
By Karli Evans
By Jose D. Duran
By Pablo Chacon Alvarez
By Kat Bein
By Abel Folgar
By Laurie Charles
The Top Ten
By Greg Baker
Not a sound is heard from the music industry that isn't calculated. Artists are not signed, records are not released, videos are not made -- unless the suits are certain a promising marketing strategy is in place and that much money can be made. The songs might as well be pork-belly futures for all they care.
That's not My Only Problem. "We took the music seriously, but nothing else," says Lee Frank, who, along with Natural Causes guitarist Joel Schantz, compiled the album for release on their own label. The promotional poster for My Only Problem, like most promotional posters, features quote blurbs. "A musical feast and journey" comments "somebody's cousin." "A healing experience for the entire planet," is attributed to "no one in particular." "Pathetic," says "name withheld." That such tomfoolery isn't the best road to hype glory is a fact lost on Schantz. "There's this thing with the media and business and music," he says. "But music is for all of us." Forget the media, ignore the business, and all you're left with is what mattered in the first place.
And My Only Problem matters. Haunting emotions -- unleashed by a clever and compelling mix of English-language words against sonic backdrops bubbling with evocative guitar lines -- can have a cathartic and visceral power rarely found outside of great literature or religion. A few chords and some words become a mandate -- you will feel this, you must feel this, you will think you can change and you can change the world, too. All those idealistic notions might not be true -- but you believe them nonetheless when you're wrapped up in rock and roll whose motivation comes from human life, not the profit margin. Call it art.
A cool melody that sticks in your head, that you can hum in the elevator, doesn't hurt either. My Only Problem has everything a great rock record should. And more.
Joel Schantz came up with the idea about a year ago. He would choose ten of his own personal favorite songwriters A people he met while attending Miami Beach High School, or in his native New Jersey A and record one song by each for release on CD and cassette. Lee Frank came in as his partner. "We talked to all these artists and they sent us tapes," Frank explains. "We found a studio in this guy's house in South Miami, a sixteen-track home studio."
Several of Schantz's chosen ones happened to be in town simultaneously, others live here, one flew down from New York to record his cut. Most have never recorded anything for commercial release. The album spotlights these people as singer-songwriters, but a number of musicians contributed instrumental parts. The result is absolutely shocking -- a couple of non-industry idealists produce and release a record that blows away anything Warner Bros. or Sony or MCA has issued this year. Perhaps money really can't buy love, or greatness.
And you have to love the greatness of R.W. Kingbird's "Conflict." -- bare chatter of drums, splashes of warm guitar riffing, and a self-confident but not dominating melody are the firmament in which Kingbird plants his impossibly moving vocal inflections, words that are like golden branches you can hang from or that can stake you through your heart. "What's a car without gas/What's speed without fast/What's matter without mass...What's eternity if it don't last?" Kingbird asks, turning these little lyrical wordplays into a fist that punches a hole in your chest and grabs ahold of your gizzards and squeezes everything it can out of you while filling you up at the same time.
Kingbird's was the first song Schantz and Frank recorded for this album. "He did the vocal in one take," Schantz says, "The bro laid it down." Heart over head A never think too much. "Most of the stuff was done in one take," Schantz adds. "Sean Edelson's guitar solo [on "Conflict"] A he heard the song for the first time that day. While he was getting his [guitar] sound, Sean played this solo. I said, 'Time to go to the beach.' Sean tells me to shut up, that he isn't even set up yet." That untuned solo appears on the final product A that solo smokes like a firebomb tossed in a swimming pool.
Schantz met Kingbird, who now lives in Deal, New Jersey, back at Miami Beach High. "He's a street poet in the Dylan-Springsteen-Feiles vein," Schantz says. "He sings on the streets of Greenwich Village. He has a wealth of songs, but he's never recorded anything, so no one's ever heard of him. Lyrics are his life, and performance is his vitality."
The momentum is sustained as the artists weave through a number of styles. The second track, "Pieces of Pieces," could have been written and performed by Dylan -- if Dylan had Arlan Feiles's talent. Feiles steps out of his usual role as Natural Causes singer-pianist to play guitar and sing this eccentric but linear treasure. (Feiles says he'll play guitar at the My Only Problem release party this week.) "I didn't want the Causes on this," Schantz says of his regular band. "They're in their own element, and we have our own release [the extended, CD version of Bomb in the Shelter] coming out. I had to be consumed by songwriting inspiration. The Causes weren't the inspiration."