There’s Nothing Like the Fourth Time Around
If the third time is a charm, the fourth is something better. As with previous years, Perfect Duluth Day and I wanted to focus on unestablished musicians or – as we called them this time around – the diamonds in the rough.
For the months of planning, driving, interviewing, and producing, the series grew. Musicians didn’t back out. People didn’t ask for my credentials. And I stayed in a motel without ants. The fourth time was about making sure that these musicians, if they decided to quit, would have a document that would last.
Kat Fox
On one hand, Kat Fox would appear as a gimmick with an album called “Purr Cassette.” On the over hand, her music video “Kat Calling” examines gimmicks and deconstructs gender norms in hip-hop.
“It’s funny because it wouldn’t even be a topic of conversation if it were a woman shaking her butt,” say Fox. “I wanted my first music video to be a bunch of dudes as the big-booty hoes.”
Fox’s music isn’t your garden variety hip-hop. When she reaches for the mic, she’s expanding the audience’s social conscience. Her ability to command the stage hasn’t gone unnoticed.
“I remember performing [‘Kat Calling’],” Fox recalls. “Another rapper came up to me and he said ‘How do you except a man to approach you [sexually] after you said things like that?’ The point isn’t to get a man to approach me. The point is to express myself.”
Kat’s time as a rapper isn’t inescapable. What survives in Kat is a voice, that questions the rules and values of contemporary society.
Alamode
Alamode gets back to the basics of pop, funk, and rhythm. The group isn’t redesigning how we understand music. Complete with catchy hooks and lush keyboards, the group sounds like a love child from the 80s. The initial excitement surrounding the group took keyboardist Ned Netzel off guard.
“Are we really that good?” asks Netzel. “Or are people like, ‘Wow this is something I’m not use to listening?'”
The band plays with the motion of melancholy and melody – marrying catchy refrains with songs about addiction and dependance.
“Writing this style of music has been, it sounds kinda cheesy, but therapy for me,” says singer Nat Holte. “There’s a certain amount of positivity that I want to put into every single song I write the lyrics for. . . . If someone heard our music 35 years from now, I would love for that to come across to them.”
Reflectivore
Sometimes, the world isn’t perfect. Allen Cragin and Ryan Rusch of Reflectivore reacted to the death and desperation that surround them. During the death of Allen’s wife, writing music was the only way to escape.
“I feel like we knew why we were getting together,” says Cragin. “It wasn’t to write seven to ten songs for an album…it was to get away from life.”
Reflectivore morphed into a multi-facted and multi-year project. Teaming up with True Norse Films, the group has develop several videos that expand the methaphors and themes surrounding the band. Cragin’s daughter, who bares a striking resemblance to her late mother, brings a hauntingly sweet balance to the video for “Red Looking Glass.”
RED LOOKING GLASS from True Norse Films on Vimeo.
Yearning for the past dictates how we think about the future. What Refelectivore embodies isn’t why we look towards the future, but how we move forward, and create something within ourselves.
Tender Ness
Some people escape small towns to discover who they are. Duluth native Peter Witrak of Tender Ness did something different: he escaped the big city to remember who he was. Sometimes, all the help you need comes from a familiar place.
“When I got back to Duluth I was driven,” says Witrak. “There was no time to feel down. Songwriting and singing is what helped me navigate that really murky time [in my life].”
Tender Ness’s album Blues and Oranges is hard to pin down. With moments of lounge, soul, and vocal jazz, it’s not faithful to any genre. Pulling from jazz greats like Nina Simone and Miles Davis, Witrak loves to throw a twist of 50s era Rat Pack. This concoction makes Blues And Oranges an ideal companion for any Hugh Grant film. Even performed live, Witrak has a difficult time staying faithful to the recording.
“I like to stay a little faithful to the recording, but it’s actually fun to translate, push and pull, and do a total makeover [when performing],” says Witrak.
Staying true to yourself is at the core of Witrak’s work. After his return home, Witrak reminds us that — once you trust yourself — even darkness becomes beautiful.
Jacob Mahon
Jacob Mahon’s life sounds like the pilot for the Partridge Family staring a 13 year-old Tom Waits. When he was at his mom’s friend’s boyfriend’s house, he played during a backyard barbecue. A manager of a local bar saw him and offered him a gig.
“We played at the Mule Lake Corral,” recounts Mahon. “We recorded [the show] on an iPad. It’s so bad.”
Mahon hit the ground running, so to speak. Playing bars, backyards, and summer camps, he has worked his way towards Duluth, where a few compliments keep him going. Even if his journey is only beginning, Mahon has a simple message: don’t give up. Because, even a simple backyard gig could lead to something bigger.
Pizzaghost
From front to back, Pizzaghost‘s song “Liar” is a hit. As keyboardist Jack Klander and bassist Ben Jacobson say, sometimes, things just fall into place.
“That’s something were Ben’s just do-dodo-dodo-do and I jump in,” sings Klander.
“If there’s anything that encapsulates our sound or what we were about, it’s trying to write the perfect three minute song that’s heavy and dancey,” says Jacobson.
Well, if you haven’t heard “Liar”, don’t feel bad. Pizzaghost sticks to overcrowded basements and sweaty living rooms. The group thrives in these places musically and sonically. Pizzaghost doesn’t follow rules and it shouldn’t have to. Every show is different. Or, as the group says, a chance to experiment.
“Just coming down to the basement is a true sense of anarchy,” says Klander.
Chase Down Blue
Some groups pride themselves on being musical misfits. But, what if you’re in the land of misfit bands? As Chase Down Blue’s singer and guitarist Micah Tigner suggests, it’s an odd paradox.
“We don’t quite fit in,” claims Tigner. “It makes me feel like we are doing something right. Cause if you fit in, you heard it before.”
On the surface, Chase Down Blue has more musical mood swings than a teenager. And this is a good thing. With touches of indie, lo-fi, and post punk, the group’s album, Red Five, centers on an enigma. Micah, almost in a Kubrick sense, began the writing process to solve a riddle that surrounded him: the connection between the color red and the number 5. As Tigner suggests, it’s part of a human condition to “make sense of things.”
The things we make, often become something more than we intended. What Chase Down Blue intended to make, as guitarist Cyrus Pireh discovered, became a reflection of a place in their lives and the impression it made other people.
“This is a possibility that can come from people spending a lot of time together in an open and supportive situation,” says Pireh. “I hope people listening [to Red Five] would be interested and inspired to make music themselves.”
Kaylee Matuszak
While other kids daydreamed about far-off places, Kaylee Matuszak thought about music. Her song “On the Brink,” began one day on the playground during elementary school. Singing the chorus to herself, she kept it locked away from others throughout middle school and into high school.
Matuszak needed some extra encouragement. When a teacher introduced her to the music of Brandie Carlile, Matuszak took her first steps into an excitingly, scary world. With the aid of her parents and support of her teacher, she began playing coffee shops and open mics across Duluth during high school.
Kaylee’s daydreams didn’t end on the playground. Her future, as she sees, only continues to move forward.
“As I grow as a person, I’m starting to have relationships with people [sharing] experiences,” says Matuszak. “Even if my musical carrier were to come to a stop, what I have done has been about reaching for the future.”
Mama’s Stolen Horses
The beginning of Mama’s Stolen Horses could be the premise of the best musical, romantic comedy ever written. Even when Kristoffer Robin explains first meeting Abby Jo, he relates it to classic American cinema.
“You know that scene from Wayne’s World when Wayne sees that stratocaster? ‘She will be mine. Oh, yes she will be mine,'” asks Robin. “That’s how I kinda felt about Abby, but everyone did. She’s such a beautiful person.”
Music has a history of destroying relationships. Unlike Fleetwood Mac or Sonny and Cher, the Robbins’ songwriting partnership tests them, but doesn’t tears them apart.
“In the beginning, [we would] sorta butt heads,” says Abby. “In the last several years, we’ve learned to recognize and respect each other’s creative space.”
With over ten years on the road playing music and selling art, Kristoffer and Abby have experienced their fair share of difficulties. But, like any good movie, they’re starting a new chapter in their lives with Duluth as their home.
Dance Attic
The lost gems in your grandparents’ attic come alive with Dance Attic. Jimmy Cooper and Suzy Ludwig breathe life into an old-time accordion and steel guitar. What they have created, even as Jimmy points out, is a wonderful mess.
“The music style, I guess it’s sorta old timey,” says Cooper. “But, it’s not stuck in a nostalgic thing where we’re trying to recreate a specific genre of music.”
If you haven’t guess by now, Dance Attic creates its own magic. The group’s use of old-time instruments has opened more possibilities than anything else. Dace Attic’s debut, Cabin Fever, isn’t afraid to be itself. With clever takes on polka and country, the group isn’t trapped in somber, heart on the sleeve, tales of failed relationships. It’s songs like “Chloe” that are the essence of the band.
“‘Chloe’ comes from the Roman goddess of the sewers Choacina. So, [Ludwig] named the outhouse Chloe,” says Cooper. After Ludwig came back from Chloe, she recalls how Cooper began singing the chorus “Why don’t you go see Chloe/out there lookin so lonely” and wrote the song in less than ten minutes.
At the end of the day, Dance Attic pushes you out of comfort zones and forces you to enjoy the moment around you. It’s an honest and simple joy of music, itself, that keeps Dance Attic going.
