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.
Updated on June 13, 2012
Our odes to roller derby girls, with amps and guitars turned up as high as we could. Gonna hit Union Hall June 28 with this one…
Updated on May 5, 2012
The next morning we were feeling good having rested up and shared some good company. Our next stop was Good Stuff Grocery in Marshall, N.C. and we were particularly excited about getting there since we’d be passing through some great, scenic country. We wove around the twists and turns of the highway, taking in the breathtaking beauty of the geography.
Our path eventually descended down into a river valley as our road narrowed to a nice curvy two-lane. Before we left on our tour, I did a little research on Good Stuff Grocery and found a sunny photograph of a happy looking gang of people outside of what looked like a church. As we cruised down the main street, I knew we were at the right place when I saw what looked to be the exact picture from the web, but now in 3D. Turns out Good Stuff occupies an old, re-purposed church and rectory, and in the front lawn, a small crowd of folks was outside smiling at the good weather.
The grocery store is what you might call an ad hoc community and cultural center for Marshall. Not only can you get a great selection of organic foods, tasty brews, and choice wine, but you can see and hear the talent of local and touring artists. What had at one time been the altar of an old church was turned into a stage. (Pretty much the same thing, though, right?)
Nick and I set up our gear comfortably as some of the neighborhood kids admired our guitars. The proprietors of Good Stuff, Jon and Amy welcomed us like long lost sheep, as if they somehow knew we were a little road-weary and could use a sandwich, a cold drink, and some TLC. I guess they get a ton of musicians touring through, and know too well the needs of road dogs.
As we played our respective sets, bodies began filling the room. By the end of the night, there was a sizable crowd buzzing around, having a beer, or just stopping by to see friends. After the last number, we packed up and went outside for a cig and a little socializing. Some nice folks invited us up to their place for an impromptu hang around their campfire, which suddenly turned into a roaring jam session. It seemed everybody could play an instrument and had a kick-ass song to sing. I felt transported into another time. I’m still wrapping my head around it. It was deep. It was magical. Big thanks to Jim McCarthy and Sarah Alden for letting a bunch of insane musicians get loaded in their kitchen and sing their hearts out.
We headed back to Jon and Amy’s cabin which was a couple twisty turns up the road from the bonfire. I thought we had exhausted our energy supply at the jam, but it recharged us to be in the cool and rustic digs of our hosts. Their two big dogs helped hold down the floor while we conversed across an old wood-burning stove, sipping some smooth bourbon. Finally, we hit the hay and a respectable day was finally over.
Our next stop was in Johnson City, TN. Our friend, Matt Frye had just played there a week prior, so we felt like the room was still warm with some Brooklyn love. The Bluegrass Ambassadors opened the set with some fantastic playing and singing. Next, I did my solo stuff, followed by a Leland Sundries set. It was a lively crowd, so we did our best to play with as much acoustic moxie as we could muster to keep the Ambassadors’ energy churning throughout the room.
After our set ended, a duo took the stage; a singer/guitarist and a bassist. They were clearly road warriors. Stacey Fox and Brad Hacker were their names, and they normally would play in a band called Thursday Evenin Porch Choir. But even as a duo–wow! These two tore it up! It was some of the grittiest, graveliest, gruffest stuff you’ll ever hear. I was locked-in throughout their set.
Afterward there was some heavy music talk and road stories with Stacey and Brad for a good long while. All I can say is that these brothers know some deep shit and I absolutely gotta see them with their full band.
The next day, we headed out to Durham, North Carolina to The Pinhook. We chilled out on the back deck beforehand to watch trains with a friend of Nick who works with the Music Maker Relief Foundation. After rocking through our sets, a local folk rock group called Lake and Hennepin took to the stage and played some powerful tunes. We were dead tired after the set, and I think ready to walk out the door, when once again, magic smiled upon us in the form of Magic Mike Casey. To be honest, I thought I was going to get rolled. I was packing up my gear, when this dude comes up to me, introducing himself as Magic Mike, and asking if I want to see a magic trick. Of course I do, but I’m no sucker, I thought. (I kept my hand on my wallet pocket.) What can this guy do that I haven’t seen on the streets of NYC? Well, it turns out Mike did some of the best magic I have ever seen. I (skeptically) watched trick after trick; fresh takes on old standards, and this guy took it to the next level. I was laughing, Mike’s show was so entertaining. I grabbed Nick. “You gotta see this guy!” Magic Mike pulled a whole new routine on Nick, impressing both of us quite a bit with his big finish: Mike had used his magical powers to somehow get a playing card (from an earlier trick) inside of a sealed Leland Sundries album. Nick cut open the shrink-wrapping and there it was. I felt like a little kid. Thanks Mike! that was a blast.
Nick’s friend from Music Maker lived close by and gave us a place to stay for the night. We wearily unpacked some gear and then, once again, got revived checking out some new music. This time it was the disc of a Music Maker artist known as Ironing Board Sam. Positively bizarre, the powerful voice and playing of Sam, along with his pedal-to-the-metal arrangements, were almost a bit too much, but so entertaining I had to listen. Had a little moonshine with our host and then hit the sack.
We finally said goodbye to North Carolina and hit the road for The Good Cherry in Forest, VA. The gig was looking a bit strange at the outset. Like our first show of the tour, we were playing a local coffee house in Virginia, only this time, it was less “local art space” and more “strip mall.” But magic can happen anywhere, so there you go. Nick and I began to set up our gear. I don’t know how it happened, but in between taking the guitars out of the cases and starting the first tune, a respectable crowd had developed. My back had been to the room as I was setting up, so I hadn’t noticed the influx. We played our sets to a really attentive and appreciative crowd. I debuted a new one, “Coal Train,” which is the first original of mine done in a delta-bluesy kinda way, played with a moody slide in an open D tuning of my own design… Well, I’m sure someone else has tuned like that before… but I’ll claim I invented it, and you can borrow it if you want.
We found a cheap hotel to crash in. The next and last leg of our tour would be a big one and we needed the rest. We were off to D.C. to pick up the rest of the band, then make our way to Iota Club and Cafe in Arlington, VA. It was my first time in D.C. There are many imposing buildings. If you’ve been there, then you know, it looks like the government of America. The Pentagon is creepy. I thought, against all odds, I might see Dick Cheney on the sidewalk eating a messy hot dog, because that would be totally hilarious. I would take his picture and have a good laugh looking at it later. No luck. I’m sure he was there. We must have just missed him. The full version of Leland Sundries convened at Iota early in the evening and it felt really good to be back together again. Sam and Shane were in their typical good spirits. We set up our gear and ordered the house specialty designed specifically for the hard working musician: Band Pasta. Yes. It’s called that on the menu. It was going to be a good/busy night for all of us. The Torches were firing off the evening, followed by Leland Sundries, then The Beanstalk Library. The guys in The Beanstalk Library were very kind in letting us use some of their gear since we didn’t have our full amp-outfit with us.
It was the perfect gig to end the tour on. By the time we got up on stage, the crowd was good and warmed up and sweaty just the right amount. We ended with “Roller Derby Queen,” which is always pretty damn fun to rock on. The rest of the evening was spent having way too much fun at the merch table joking around with Nick’s bullhorn and our new friend, Alexia Kauffman from The Torches. We got some randoms to snap a couple pics of us outside the gig, then we loaded the trunk for the trip back to Brooklyn. It was late. We were tired. In an effort to stay conscious, Shane sang some nutty and loud pirate songs and, as we learned, knew a particularly cool sea chanty from his home town called Ellan Vannin. Stay tuned, you may hear it at the next Leland Sundries show.