Posted on January 8, 2013
Relvis – Randy Mancini
Redhead – Lindsay Naas
New Boyfriend – Dave DiLoreto
Redheads Anonymous Group Leader – Brian DiLoreto
Blonde – Amy Heck
Brunette – Jami Lawrence
Director: Jim Turner
Producers: Jim Turner, Nick Loss-Eaton
Editors: Annie Quick, Jim Turner
Story: Nick Loss-Eaton, Jim Turner
Color Correct: Rich Samalot
Posted on November 30, 2012
“What a surprising gem of a record. Leland Sundries occupies a beguiling musical prairie between Leonard Cohen and Townes Van Zandt. Throw in some profoundly poetic and vividly cinematic lyrics from singer Nick Loss-Eaton, stir a little with rural blues and touches of rockabilly and ragtime, and you have a subtly rewarding Americana breakthrough. On the opening “Airstream Trailer,” suggesting ancient blues with an emotive harp, Loss-Eaton sings of “a mountain trail full of switchbacks.” That could stand for a pretty good description of their music, too. Leland Sundries keeps you off guard with the scope of their archival sensibility yet modern feel. Loss-Eaton’s smoky, talk-singing baritone summons the noir of Leonard Cohen, but is also laced with humor, as on the kiss-off tune “Giving Up Redheads” and the ballad “Apparition,” where he “snuck into the Planetarium so I could sleep under the stars” and where he ends up in a “compartmentalized condition.” Hey, it’s cerebral, but it works, enhanced by simple melodies that twist and turn into one’s brain. The band goes ragtime on “Bywater Rag” (with some New Orleans-style clarinet for good measure), plus mines a downtempo, lo-fi flair on “VFW Hall.” Then there’s the piece de resistance, “Monitor Arms,” inspired by the Civil War boat the Monitor, which was built in the band’s home area of Brooklyn. Its line about “shipbuilders swilling and spilling their beers” is quietly hilarious. The song is a further sign that Leland Sundries likes to shake things up in ways that make them quite unique in today’s soundscape.”
— STEVE MORSE, former staff music critic at the Boston Globe who has also contributed to Billboard and Rolling Stone
Posted on August 6, 2012
(One of a series of essays on each song from ‘The Foundry EP.’)
You see, we’re not really giving up redheads.
That’s a piece of irony (or what have you).
Yes, there was a redhead who was once not kind and we took that and ran with it past the point of reason for this song. I was obsessed with Sun Records when I wrote this song, and it’s not far from Sonny Burgess and Elvis Presley territory, with a little added grit (we hope). It also takes the idea that you can be wicked and funny with a grain of truth from the great outlaw country of Merle Haggard and David Allen Coe. We ride a Memphis train beat as far as it can take us. This is about as tongue-in-cheek as they come. As I see it, Leland Sundries seems to play two types of songs that are really the same: dark indie-folk and sarcastic rockabilly. But the thing is that both are imagery-driven and both have a certain amount of desperation in their characters, who mostly don’t really fit in with anybody.
Micah played the guitar solo when he was sick as a dog and we asked him to start out with a “Folsom Prison Blues” vibe and end up in Deer Tick territory. Meanwhile, we kept the vocal track from our demo because it had a casual feeling that we liked. There’s a bass line during the solos that we stole from David “Honeyboy” Edwards.
To answer your questions: Yes, there was a hot, redheaded vixen. No, she was not evil, maybe just a little misguided. Yes, she’s heard the song and no, she doesn’t like it.