Any Day Parade

O’Hara’s, used to be called Ryan’s or some other Celtic surname. Still a dirt bag “Irish” sports bar off the turnpike. Oh it’s cleaned up some and not a true dive, but it’s all about the huge flat screen TV, on a Jersey City street that either takes you to the mall or the Holland tunnel. Weekend nights they’ll have music. Awful place in general but, not god awful which is something these days.

A tough gig. A lot of the crowd was New Jersey yahoo, rude douche bags. Putting on their coats and walking out right in front of the band as they played. Like or not like the music, but at least show some consideration. There was this whole thing with this plant, some tall rubber plant monstrosity which was to the side of the raised platform—about four inches I reckon—which served as the stage. One of the guitarists kept bumping his elbow into it, which interfered with his playing and looked like an accident waiting to happen. He moves it. Bar manager dude moves it back. Gets moved in front of the band at one point too. Playing to a plant, can it get more obnoxious? Finally the bar manager dude moves it out of the way like he is doing the band the biggest favor in the world. No respect for the music, or the plant.

With all that though, there was a real showman ship going on. Scuttle but around the bar was that the bar owner only signs bands who play covers, but this was a big exception. This became a running joke from the “stage” with songs being introduced as a cover of one of our songs, which I thought was pretty hip. The singer, who not only is a real talent but has a showmanship about her, not to mention a natural charisma and was able to work the crowd, which wasn’t ugly per say but there was a good amount of indifference that she was able to transmute into enthusiasm by the end of the second set. She kept doing this thing, a toast, which was called “a social” where she held up her beer and everyone raised their glasses. It was funny, great time filler in-between the songs and served to draw in the crowd.

This showmanship, the ability to work the crowd without giving into or more importantly, not be intimated by the large but still a minority of dopey fucks and just let the music sing for itself, be speaks volumes. My favorite local band, Any Day Parade. Okay, the only local band I could care less about, or whose name I know or whose myspace page I log onto weekly to keep up with gigs. And why is that? They’re friggin fantastic.

How great it is to actually have a reason to make an effort to go to some place and hear some really talented musicians perform terrific original material in genres I love. For a music lover, a dream come true. In the way early 90s, before moving to chilltown, living in the lower east side, there was the Barnstormers. They played in a rootsy, sun sessions style and I still remember their version of This Train is Bound for Glory. Saw them rip it up a few times at the Ludlow Cafe. I was told they broke up and I remember seeing one of the cats working in a pizza joint, at least I think it was him, and I’ve always regretted not saying hi or paying him a compliment, but I was so much older then.

The DIY thing is so much better now. You can get CDs made by the band at gigs, keep up with their gigs on their Myspace page. And, with Any Day Parade you can walk around the corner and catch a gig. Makes it a little easier to get the music out there and cobble together some sort of living as well as a “starter” audience.

In Jersey City Summer of 2008 Groove on Grove was launched. Wednesdays bands play in the new pavilion surrounding the Path station, local unsigned indies. Pretty interesting diversity of musical stylings, worth a listen and a linger. Any Day Parade I stayed for the entire performance and picked up their Cd. Five demo-ish cuts. Played the dang thing every day for at least two weeks. Great songs, intelligent lyrics and a high level of craftsmanship musicianshipwise.

It was a friggin weird summer in my life, stuff going on with the girlfriend, with my mother and siblings and the news being the election and the economic collapse. I was listening (and still am) to Dylan, (always Dylan), Dick Picks Dead, Roy Acuff, Ralph Stanley, Louvins, George Jones. Dave Alvin and Sleepy LaBeef and Folkways maritime and labor songs. There were also a week of just Elvis. It’s not everything I know and love to hear—sometimes it is only the Ramones or Coltrane—but basically I was digging old time country both acoustic and electric, rock n roll, rockabilly and really smart songwriters, like Alvin. And of course, Dylan (always Dylan).

I only mention the play list to explain my mind set. Any Day Parade was a fresh breeze. I remember listening to them with the gathered crowd on the pavilion. Summer in full swing, the afternoon edging towards twilight. I remember thinking, is this true—what I was hearing. Are they really as good as I think they are? Even when the Grove Street bands are kind of posers with their music, owning a lot of Smith records or doing that electric pop stuff (I mean seriously, Squeeze and the Jam were always lame to my ears—I saw XTC open for the Talking Heads, they sucked.). On the other hand, the groove on grove bands were always pretty talented, the young musicians of today seem to be a little more into craft and less willing to settle for solely attitude like the punk hey day and post-punk hardcore. You know, good riddance. Practice your instrument kids. I like catching a set of even so so music and trying to see what they’re saying and accentuating the positive of what they are doing, Then I go about my business and think about something else.

Any Day Parade was way different, I stayed for the entire performance, bought the C.D., signed up on the mailing list and just had a great old time. When I heard the CD, I was convinced that this wasn’t just a figment of a mood. Impossible to forget what I heard. These cats are the real deal.

The easiest genre to shoe horn them into is country rock. Or is that roots music. Americana. It’s limiting. The fact is, the cats can play. They are bouncy and rocking. To my ears I heard lots of stuff I like, old timey country and dirty rock n roll. Used to be a lot of up in arms about that difference, which was no difference whatsoever. Drums are at the opry. Dylan’s gone electric. Johnny Cash covered Metallica. We’re post-post, post-alt—real country is roots and folk rock is folk and new country is karaoke Eagles.(I hate the fuckin Eagles man, which is why I hesitate with that much abused term, country rock.) Whatever. Traditional and progressive is a hard thing to pull off, but here it was, familiar, traditional while being original and new, ready to stake out some new territory. They’re the real deal. Any Day Parade is.

Caught up with them again in a slightly better venue than O’Hara’s, and they were even better. Sometime in the Fall, at this Lamp Light place, which I had been meaning to go to and this was the first time. It’s a shack of a dive, but at least there aren’t glaring huge flat screens everywhere you look. Dingy and cozy. The band was great that night too. Alas, the last acoustic bass show. They played it the back of the place, after the kitchen closed. Wood paneled like a basement or is that rec room in a lower class New Jersey suburb. No stage or anything. A good crowd, lots of young folk most of whom seemed to be friends of the band. I was the oldest person there which is not unusual these days in my life. But I liked the place and the hot blonde bartender was very nice, long neck millers and Jameson’s. She was attentive. I seemed to be the only one there tipping. Fantastic set. They really cooked.

Wanted to see them again but my schedule was unable to permit.

It was apparent at O’Haras that Any Day Parade is a band in transition, which compounds the growth pangs any band less than two years old confronts. The transition stems from acoustic stand up bass to electric. Course, I think Bill Black was as essential to the sun sessions cradle of all of rock n roll as Scotty Moore, so there’s a bit of a bias. The electric bass did not make the sound suffer and it’s not that they lack cohesion, but it is still something they are growing into.

So O’Haras, which was in February, was the electric bass edition debut (at least for me). The drummer, Brian, who I chatted with some said he hadn’t learned all their songs and there was some new ones on their way, which I think they performed a couple of but can’t be sure since I didn’t take notes. Basically, they played the same set twice, the first set being different because of an inclusion of Dead Flowers, which they introduced as a cover song from the Beatles. A loud mouth at the bar was bellowing it was the stones not the Beatles, so not everybody got the joke. They do this song pretty well, at the grove gig it was bouncier and reminded me of the all but forgotten version by the new riders of the purple sage, this one was in the van zandt version from the dude abides scene that closes lebowski mode, or maybe it was more like the original. This version aspired to be honky tonk-esque, didn’t quite get there but an admirable notion in and of itself. Crowd pleaser too.

I was a little disappointed in the first set. I was missing the acoustic bass. They could still play like they meant it, but I felt that the band hadn’t yet caught up to their new sound. So, even if the set wasn’t one for the record books it was still a unique experience, seeing a transition manifest itself.

Sat at the bar—there was a lot of delay, in coming on, in-between sets—talked with a tattoo artist I’ve seen around the neighborhood. Switched from Makers Mark & Soda to Heineken. This was hanging out drinking and here I was, after all these years, hanging out. Usually, I drink whiskey and beer then eat, and maybe an after dinner aperitif. Drinking some hard stuff then switching to beer you do to keep the buzz going but not get too drunk. It was almost like drinking yourself sober. Used to do this quite often back in the day. Unfortunately, it was this stupid sports bar and I made a mental note to bring a paperback next time because staring at these frigging flat screen TVs with their close ups of Jack Nicholson (well, that was sort of neat) at the Lakers game was a bummer while waiting for the show to start—website said 9, called up they bar and they said 9 30 and the band didn’t come on for the first set till after 10. On the other hand, I’ve had a f-uped two weeks and I got my mind off things, the bartender who I recognized said she worked at Arties, a long gone 90s hang out. A pleasant interval of nostalgia. There are worse things than waiting for your favorite local band to play.

The second set makes me think my assessment of the first set might be unfairly harsh. Actually, the first set was more of a rehearsal. The second set cooked real good. It was basically the same set of songs, but there was more energy. Worth the wait. The mix seemed better. They played this new song that had shifting tempos (a song structure I think grunge—nirvana/pearl jam/hole—really brought into the forefront though I could argue that it was Dylan’s Sooner or Later and better arguments could probably point to rockabilly. Wait a second now, what is more shifting tempo than the breakdown, familiar to bluegrass but also electric country). But they really pulled it off, with some really great lead picking, though from my vantage point could not quite see who it was. I believe it was both of the two guys. Is this a Duane and Dickie thing? Throughout this set the drummer also seemed to be having a great night, finely executed accents. A driving force, which the more electric arrangement demanded. A really good version of this song Hold on You, which is song by one of the guitarists, a nifty up-tempo that does a nice country lyric twist with hold on (you have a hold on me, I want a hold on to you), which seems a pretty original upheaval of the typical macho country heart break lament ala George Jones. There’s a neat couplet about thinking about you and closing my eyes wondering if you’re thinking about me. How often does a romantic song confront an existential dilemma?

Any Day Parade unleashed their inner Credence in the second set, not a bad path to follow as this post-alt country quintet plugs in.

I’m still convinced of the real dealness of the band, the sound they are going for may not be there yet but the playing is quite accomplished. I’m confident they will get there and feel eager to hear the new songs again (and again). Even with the more rock elements, the guitars have a distinctive twang. Credence. Wall of guitar, twangy texturing bouncing off and on that wall. In fact, I do believe I heard a warm up riff of up around the bend by one of the guitarist in-between numbers. A Credence cover would not be a bad idea. Since this band plays a music I identify with, I could probably come up with a long list of covers they might try, but what’s next, weddings? A sports bar tour of Hudson County. Give me a break. Their original songs are cool enough. Yes, a longer set would be desirable and I’m not sure it will come but what is better, an informed astute opinion, some well observed criticism or witnessing some talented young musicians with a genuine devotion to some musical genres I love grow in front of my eyes. The latter, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. How often does one witness a band finding their bearings? Pretty rare. Also, fascinating, compelling and entertaining. Just because you stumble, doesn’t mean you fall. In transition, yes and maybe further along than my measly observations seem to indicate but you know, seeing some of that transition in progress is a joyous thing. A snap shot. In years to come, will I see fruit ripen and remember those seeds at O’Haras? Is that the dream of a music lover who lucks into a local band who satiates the jones?

The music business is a horror these days so God bless to anyone attempting it. Seeing the “O’Haras Show” was indeed unique and lucky because I saw the imperfections, then most of the imperfections overcome and an achievable direction indicated. A lot of the imperfection was due to the sound system, you could really only hear the two electric guitars and drums and the voices, an important part of the sound is the “rhythm” section of the acoustic guitar was pretty much lost. The texture of the arrangements was probably more of the bad sound mixing than the band still struggling to “plug in.”

The bass player—obviously talented and competent—needs to get more acclimated, more songs have to be rehearsed and all that. But here was a lackluster set followed by a really hot set and they were essentially the same set. Compare and contrast.

The next day, after I got over my hang over and was back to listening to some music, the Any Day Parade CD returned to the rotation. Had been a coupla months. It still sounds friggin great. The main singer, Tree, who seems to be the band leader. has a really brassy broad voice—full throated. Comparisons to Maria Muldear and Michelle Shock come to mind. Even Bessie Smith only borders hyperbole. She has a way of oozing out of a vibrato into some bright and clear high notes that induces goose bumps.

Broken Lamps, which was played at O’Haras, introduced as a song about having sex while drunk or something like that, it is a rockin dittie about apparently, a drunken one night stand, has a sound similar music wise to subterranean homesick blues. It was well served by the more electric Any Day Parade. The song raises a ruckus, the musicians make an edgy racket. There’s a garage band drum riff opening and a real twangy guitar—and upon repeated listens, a real killer guitar riff in the break prior to the ending chorus.

Good Mornin’ Darling has a refreshing eroticism embedded in a what on the surface can be taken as a simple country shuffle. Basically, this song takes place in bed, opening with “good mornin darling, let me catch that smile,” which if it isn’t an innuendo—the smile of the lower set of lips—it should be! Another couplet about let my fingers careen around your curves and maybe I’ll slip right in. Really well placed sensuality, enhancing more innocent lines about got a secret to share about loving to see her eyes through locks of chestnut hair. The refrain includes a line, you melt my heart and other more innocent expressions, like you make it all seem all right. This is a song about love and lust being one, and also appears to be about a woman singing about her woman lover. What I dig is that it is unabashed, yet is universally romantic. Who hasn’t woken up next to their lover and had an overwhelming need to physically express that love? The only ones have never been in love I guess. It doesn’t matter the gender, a rare feat these days. Could easily be a call to arms in a less talented writer, a smutty wave the rainbow flag thing, but it isn’t. Everything is subtle, and it completely lacks cynicism. Some of the lyrics may sound bawdy, or sound bawdy when you think twice, but this isn’t good fun vulgarity. It is sincere and sweet. What comes to mind is endearing. We need more love songs as honest and subtle and intelligent as this (if you ask me that is!) And, maybe more stories that are simple depictions of ordinary domestic moments, because in the right hands, those moments can say as much about life as any epic—just ask Raymond Carver (or Sharon Olds).

Which is why I think my favorite song is Miss You. Again, more in the country mode and it has a great opening lick, that kicks off a story, as most country songs do—“say baby, I know your day has been long, but I need to talk with you a while.” What does the narrator want to talk about? “ten years away from our first day, let’s pick up where we used to be, I miss your lips, your breath, your kiss that spot before I see you smile.” Basically, it’s a domestic scene to rekindle romance in a relationship. How domestic? The narrator offers to rub the feet of her object of desire—with a really clever way of saying it—“unlace” and “push the dog and kitty away” but the real theme is the narrator’s plea to “take your car, to that spot, where we spent our first night/let us sleep in the back seat, wake up with the morning light” Dang! That’s the story, work and adulthood have gotten in the way of our desire so let’s rekindle it by making out in a car like the teenagers we used to be! A story, but a simple story—lets make out in the car! I love the simplicity, the ordinariness of this sentiment, balanced out with some really sensitive drumming and lilting guitar licks. This song convinces you of rekindling romance. I’m ready to sign a petition to save our nation’s lovers lanes. Heck, sometimes I hear it and want to write the dang petition myself. I know I mentioned Carver before, and I have no idea if the song writer knows or was influenced by the work (I just know it’s a common reference point for me) and I am not suggesting there are signs of the influence, but I was reminded nonetheless of this great classic Carver tale, Why Don’t You Dance?, where this guy, after a divorce, is holding a garage sale of basically all the belongings of his life with the ex and a young couple looks at stuff and it ends with the guy playing records as the young couple dances in the driveway. Of course, this is Raymond Carver and one of the greatest short stories in American literature and so there is a lot going on, including despair and I would never lay as heavy a comparison as Carver on any country song, no matter how fantastic. That notion though, depicting a moment where nostalgia is used to hold onto love is in that story and this song and is both joyful and heartbreaking. We hope the car sex works. We hope the narrator who declares her love so sincerely and has such a fond memory of how it used to be and a conviction that a return to something they might have grown out can bring back the love, gets her wish. Doesn’t always turn out that way and sometimes hope is all we have. Joyful and heartbreaking.

I’ve Had Time remains a little inscrutable to me, but is truly haunting. The melody is infectious and flowing. It has a feeling of Appalachian based music, which got filtered through the carter family and blue grass, not the fit and start thing with hollers and whatnot, but smooth like some old Joan Baez number (Silver Dagger comes to mind), where similar melodic lines fire away one ending high, one low. There is also a Lucinda Williams feel, but that might be a projection on my part. I’ve transcribed as best I can the opening lyrics: If Jesus doesn’t take me/when my time has come/ I won’t be surprised/ look at all the things I’ve done/ married a young boy/ stole his heart away/I left his momma crying, now I understand her pain/I had time to think on this, as I grow old alone.

It’s a darker song, at least it’s about less cheerful truths than the others on the EP. Regret, empathy and, and.... And, that’s just it, try as I might, I can’t get the rest of the lyrics, the mix is weird or something. At O’Hara’s they played it and I didn’t recognize it, because it’s this song that sort of resists registering for me, beyond the melody. I thought it was one of their new songs but even there, what registered was “Jesus” and so when I was listening to the EP again post-show, it dawned on me, hey this was that really cool song they played. More electric and a little faster (it is not a slow song by any means)—an enhancing arrangement—but I still didn’t get the rest of the lyrics. A few days later, I was banging around the neighborhood, taking the path to Journal Square for an errand, and I was humming to myself, which is just to stop the voices in my head, seriously though, it was that mindless humming and dry whistle one does while killing time doing errands and such. la la la, dobie doo doo type thing. After this went on for a while, incessantly somewhat, I started to think, what is that song I’m humming. I couldn’t recall where I heard it right away, which of course only made me hum it again and again. And then it dawned on me, oh yeah, that Any Day Parade song that has Jesus in the first line. Even though I can’t quite figure out the precise lyrics, the melody was clinging to me. Days after I had heard it last.

visit: myspace.com/anydayparade