mollycoulter.com

I just found this in the archives of the New York Times website. Please read under the understanding that the article was published in the Real Estate section.

I have a few notes:

- It was nice to see Jill Torrance shot the pictures. I especially like the fall colors in the shot of the man walking down Aspen Street. Notice the Daily Sun receptacle. Ms. Torrance is a photographer for that publication. Does anybody know if that is Joseph who works at Pay n Take and Karma? It looks like him.

- There is great attention paid to the second-home buyers’ attraction to Flagstaff. I find it contradictory of Joe Haughey to first admit there is high demand for affordable housing for "working" residents. He is such a proponent of housing for the poor bastards who have to work that he’s even on the real estate team selling condos at The Arbors. (You know, those shitty apartments by the movie theater usually littered with beer cans from the many frat boys who camp out there every school year.) BUT then Mr. Haughey concludes by telling us how Californians can get a whopping good deal - a steal - of a price for their second homes in Flagstaff.

- My question is, does City Council want to retain NAU’s graduates as residents? Or retain the workers who earn less than $60,000 annually? If so, how does a sunny article in the New York Times targeted to potential investors from the second-home market who saturated and BLEW UP Flagstaff’s market aid in the cause?  

-Then again, his property value DOUBLED in just a few short years, so keep the Phoenicians coming.

For the record, I moved to Philadelphia in March ‘08 where a bachelor’s degree earns a deserving wage and a first home. I applaud anyone who managed to buy a home in Flagstaff and who will be able to keep it from going into foreclosure. But you can tell I’m still beating this dead horse and probably will continue to until I make a zillion dollars and can retire on an estate off Fort Valley Road.

 

 

The way that it swings Iconic Flag songwriter Nolan McKelvey goes in a new direction By Molly Coulter Published on 12/06/2007
[ view additional photos ]   Boy of the Southwest country: Singer-songwriter Nolan McKelvey has been one of Flag’s most prolific artists. Having recorded with dozens of bands on countless albums, "The Sound of the Crash" is his fourth solo recording. Photo by Jill Torrance.
On Nolan McKelvey’s fourth solo album The Sound of the Crash, the polished singer-songwriter hangs up his proverbial button-snap cowboy shirt.      McKelvey describes the paradigm in which he performs in the album’s second track, “I Can’t Disguise.” He sings, “There are so many people out there bound by proof. They can’t imagine what we’ve got. They only know one truth.” He could have penned it without this intention, but it appears to call out the locals who are quick to label his sound as country and ask them to wipe the bleary haze of his Onus B. Johnson days out of view. What follows is a set of songs that depart from his past collaborations and current band, Muskellunge Bluegrass, and resonate with graceful and radio-ready rock, jazz and pop styles.      “I write a lot of songs, and just conceptually I wasn’t quite sure how I was going to record them because Rand [Anderson, McKelvey’s former guitarist] had moved on to the Country Thunder tours and he had a really good opportunity to get some big gigs. He created a lot of that country sound and this was a chance to try something different,” McKelvey says of the album’s early stage.      A colleague suggested Jeff Lusby and the two met over coffee.
	“In spite of the broad differences in the way we present our music we came to the conclusion that good music is good music and there isn’t a need to categorize music,” says McKelvey.      Lusby has spent the past five years gigging with the alternative rock and pop group Mercy Fall, who are well-received amongst Flagstaff’s youngsters, but may be off the radar for McKelvey’s typical crowd. Lusby, who loved McKelvey’s voice, but scarcely had conversed with him, says he was brainstorming long before McKelvey approached him.      “The ideas I had about his songs and the directions they could go were different,” Lusby says, who joins our interview sporting a goatee, labret piercing and Tenacious D T-shirt. He’s aged a few years less than McKelvey and unquestionably the pair looks offbeat, but the synthesis that this odd couple created in the studio is harmonious. They began with a trial-run and recorded the song “A Ripple on the Water’.      “It really captured what I was going for. I was trying to bridge the gap between what I listen to and what I sound like,” says McKelvey.      Lusby and Mercy Fall shared a rehearsal space and studio with local pop-rockers Telescope, so “just by proximity” Lusby says, keyboardist Mike Seitz joined the recording team. “I’ve got such a different musical perspective from Nolan and then Mike’s got another one,” Lusby says. Seitz’s keys complement “Twilight,” a jazzy love song ideal for twirling twosomes. McKelvey invited a list of other esteemed artists to lay down tracks, including drummers Ron James and Andrew Lauher, bassist Tim Hogan and keyboardist/organ-player Steve Caldwell.      “In our music scene we have neighborhoods and this is an unlikely pair of neighborhoods,” Lusby says. “It’s something that worked and it’s a step in bridging together the community.”      McKelvey says building that bridge necessitated tearing down old practices.      “I’m used to finding people I really like personally who I respect as good musicians and allowing them to collaborate as we lay down a song,” McKelvey says. “This was more of a concept I was going for. This time around I wanted to do it more holistically and make it about a sound, rather than about a band. The departure of Rand and Andrew was bittersweet but it also opened the door. I didn’t go into the recording studio with a band to sound like X. It allowed us to support the song as opposed to support the band.”      Aware my question might be interpreted as fightin’ words, I ask McKelvey and Lusby if they intended to create a pop sound.      “It’s hard not to sound vain or funny about it, but I wanted it to sound more artistic,” McKelvey says. “I wanted more subtleness, a little less twangy, a step away from the country aspects of things.”      “It wasn’t conscientiously more poppy,” Lusby says. “I think it was more about accessibility. I wanted to broaden it to a new accessibility. People who come out to the CD release show may be surprised. It is a lot different but it is true to him. It’s not contrived. It’s different, but it’s true.”      McKelvey asserts, “It’s more ‘me’ than I’ve ever been able to put out before. Ultimately, it always comes back to, I write songs because I love to write songs and it’s something that is intrinsically a part of me. It’s a vehicle to express myself and then it’s up to them.”      Nolan McKelvey and the Civilian Contemplation Corp will feature songs from the new album, The Sound of the Crash, at its CD release party Sat, Dec. 8 at the Mogollon Brewing Co., 15 N. Agassiz. Voluntary String Band and Valley singer-songwriter Dave Mulligan will open the night at 8 p.m. There will be a $5 cover charge or for $10, listeners can catch the show and take home a copy of The Sound of the Crash. For more information, go to www.nolanmckelvey.com or call 773-8950. Additional photos for this story:

Tribute to a train wreck Elton Don Johnson’s pop-kitsch-weirdness finds a niche By Molly Coulter Published on 12/06/2007

[ view additional photos ]   EDJ’s Michael McNulty. Photo by Josh Biggs.

Guitarist Michael McNulty and drummer Stephen Wright jammed at home out of boredom and anti-social inklings. Then the roommates mocked their way through an open mic night at Mogollon Brewing Co. The invitations to play again were unexpected, but the guys accepted and the little kitsch cover band that could became Elton Don Johnson.      “I write a lot of music and to actually get paid to play in a band a bunch of stupid covers is like a huge step backwards, but it’s what people like,” McNulty says as Wright nods and the pair cracks up. The karaoke-mix in the band’s typical set list features arena rock anthem “Eye of the Tiger” and arguably the all-time most obtrusive, yet contagious lyrics in Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’.” The guys aren’t shy to delve into softer terrain with Bonnie Tyler’s “Total Eclipse of the Heart” and “The Greatest Love of All” made popular by soul singer Whitney Houston. “There’s the set closer, ‘I’ve Had the Time of My Life,’” Wright offers, and McNulty chimes in, “I’ve got the chick part on that one.” Wright’s prior performance experience spans genres and state-lines, while McNulty’s limited history forced his lead-singing into an adult-life debut. “That was one of those thunder bolts from God,” McNulty says. “Divine inspiration sent directly to me saying, ‘God is love. Rock with it.’” While the band doesn’t expect to headline Radio City Music Hall with its previously released format, Elton Don Johnson always turns heads with its raw, rocked-out sound or at least the members’ flippant attitudes and clownish attire. There is something freakishly attractive about two young men belting Guns N’ Roses songs cloaked in Amish garb. I admit Wright’s golden boy-shorts and McNulty’s piercing howls may draw the same jaw-dropping stares as a train wreck, but the band’s sarcastic aim is lucid and any idiot who disagrees probably should be thrown in front of one. “There’s very few moments during our show that you could not be having a good time,” Wright says. “The songs are from the nostalgic parts of movies and stuff because you can’t listen to certain songs without being brought back. We make bastardized ’80s music,” says Wright, while McNulty says, “I kind of like to think of us as a lounge act, a pretty crappy lounge act that likes to rock.” “I like picking a song that had innocent intentions and making it loud and screaming,” Wright says. “Like the song, ‘Dancing with Myself.’ I never thought about masturbation and nowadays I think that’s what he’s alluding to.” McNulty appears embarrassed, so Wright continues the joke. “Dude, what? Billy Idol is totally my idol. My mom took me along when she got her haircut once and I thought the ladies were dying my hair just like Billy Idol’s and when they were done I don’t think they had actually done anything. I cried,” Wright says. “This was just last year,” McNulty says. Elton Don Johnson will parade its punk-asses inside Mia’s Lounge, 26 S. San Francisco, Thu, Dec. 6 with opening act the F-Holes. The show starts at 10 p.m. and is free.

Additional photos for this story:

EDJ’s Michael McNulty. Photo by Josh Biggs.

Why be shy when everyone in the world is blogging and any idiot who doesn’t even have to understand html can post his thoughts? Why be afraid of posting random or crucial ideas and true epiphanies to the web? It’s not like anyone actually reads it.

But then you discover they do. How flattering in a sense. How mortifying in another.

Take myspace, for example. I use it as an excellent tool for reconnecting and maintaining friendships. It’s a virtual high school hallway, only this time we can all view who our buddies have become instead of who they say they’d like to be. It’s a self-involved, egocentric flash of our lives. I used to update my page every day. Then I stopped working on a computer all day and I no longer challenged the "networking" site’s criticisms. It really is an addiction and a time-consuming waste. TALK TO YOUR FRIENDS. Call your girlfriend from sixth grade or send your college roommate a letter. Why dick around with the "how are you?"s and "what have you been up to?" Let me see, "I’m doing the best I ever have. I’m only going to tell you what’s good in my life. Nothing bad ever happens to me. Look at the photos of me having fun (in a bar, on a beach, in my parents’ backyard, surrounded by a European city or sporting my top of the line gear in a sun-kissed wilderness area)." On myspace the world can finally see us in our best light. We point the spot light on our good hair day pics and post a bulletin when we’re moving on up. It’s reality sugar-coated and regularly checked, as evidenced by the "Good for you!" responses we are dying to receive. Although I made my profile private and have opted to filter the comments, openly I admit I’m pleased with my page and the friends who visit it. Notice, if you have ever viewed it, I am not an open book in that world. I am a book-jacket description of myself, validated by outside opinions. (You can click the photo of me in the right-hand side bar if you haven’t already.)

So back to the blog rant. One time a former co-worker confronted me about something I’d typed on my blog. I ended up changing part of the wording, but I did not compromise the original sentiment. I realized others had read the blog — and become pissed or at least startled by my opinion. That was eye-opening.

Then I met a woman in a bathroom who admitted she read this blog. I was freaked at first and puzzled by the interaction. I sensed she felt awkward, as well, but the next time we saw each other we gabbed like old friends. Somehow overcoming the web-connection put us on a level of understanding usually reached after months of getting to know someone.

I would love to post more than just my articles, but those words are safe because they are public knowledge. I fear if I devulge more than those I will first off, become a pathetic blogger and second, open myself up for insult. But I am paying for this egocentric url so I probably should make it into something.

Although currently I am not pursuing a publishing career (that means, without side jobs), soon I will walk back in to that world. Any prospective employer can search my name (without quotations even) and the first link will be this blog. I better keep my private life as posted on the Internet clean and mundane.

Then I think about my favorite books, authors, journalists and people. The root of all their nonsense and creativity is the unabashed thrill of sharing a note-worthy story. I get a kick from it and they do too. If I want to make a living finding those connections with the world, don’t you think I ought to grow a pair (not literally) and distinguish my life and the words that descibe it? As I continually interact with the impacts of the printed word, why shouldn’t I experiment whole-heartedly with my own?

 

Anyone have any thoughts? I’ll try to disable the comment filter. Please, do tell.

Final note: I just chanced upon a story about a police officer showing up at my door that I could sensationalize if you’d care to read it.

 

 

 

The new, new school The progressive path of Railroad Earth and Hot Buttered Rum By Molly Coulter Published on 09/27/2007

[ view additional photos ]   American gypsies: Hot Buttered Rum straight from northern California, by way of everywhere. Photo courtesy of Madison House Publicity.

When the music lover first embraced Napster and the world of file-sharing, the phrase “tickled pink” could be used to describe his or her reaction. Instead of picking through the clearance bin at the record store for a mass of interesting music, he or she could examine lists of artists, songs, albums and live shows at no cost, except for the occasional replacement of a larger hard drive to house the thousands of files that had been stolen, unbeknownst to the naïve fan.      Artists and record labels threw their fists in the air condemning the obvious piracy and copyright infringement. Crackdowns on the techie with 6 million songs on 18 hard drives got rolling, but even the seemingly innocent single mother of three with 250 files downloaded for her children was at risk. The record industry is right to prosecute illegal downloading. The musicians might be destined to make music, but it’s a lot easier to make a lifetime of creativity flourish and reach its captivating potential if that lifetime is supported by a regular pay check. On one hand, if music were free, wouldn’t quality control step into place, eliminate the “looks good” and champion the “sounds good”? But on the other, how could any musician or group ever find the time to sound good if studio time and costs weren’t supplemented with album sales? The live show would have to become the money-maker, a maxim supported by touring professionals like Railroad Earth and Hot Buttered Rum.

“We are playing larger festivals across the country with 5,000 to 150,000 people going—you’re able to put yourself out in front of a large audience,” Railroad Earth’s fiddle player Tim Carbone says. “Audience taping and trading of live recording, that has really spread the news about the band. Also a great street team recruiting people to come; that’s one of the really key things. A grassroots street team approach always allows fans to feel like they’re involved and gets people involved. The viral marketing on the Internet like MySpace, as well. We encourage it to the extent that we allow them to tape the show.”      I ask Carbone if trading bootlegs poses the same risks as illegal downloading. He says, “It’s an honor among thieves sort of thing. I’ve never ever run into instances of where people are illegally selling. It’s a part of the culture. It is kind of wild.”      “Our live show is something that is an ever-fluent thing,” says Hot Buttered Rum’s fiddle and mandolin player Aaron Redner. “We have four songwriters in the band. Every night is a different set list. We draw more from the Grateful Dead, Phish, String Cheese world. We encourage people to follow us around. We try to interpret the scene we’re in. We take runs around the town and try to figure out what it’s about. Even during the set itself, a song will come up and we’ll say, ‘Let’s sing something else.’ We try to be crackling electricity.”      Typically band members find it painful to describe their band’s sound in a few, short, genre-specific words, and Carbone and Redner do not split from the pack.      “One term we’re using these days is ‘progressive Americana,’” Redner says. “To us Americana music really signifies American roots music. That would include blues, jazz, rock ‘n’ roll, psychedelic music, old time string band music and bluegrass; all these things. We get pigeonholed as a bluegrass band and that’s not really accurate.”      As for Railroad Earth, Carbone says, “It has bluegrass as the base, but I would call it more American acoustic music or Americana, but even that doesn’t really accurately describe it. It’s always tough to figure it out. But the fans don’t seem to care one way or the other. They just like the music.”      Carbone continues, “If you listen to traditional bluegrass, it doesn’t have drums, long extended jams; the scene we’re kind of borrowing from for the most part. We’re adding our own element to it, elements of rock, jazz. It’s all just good music, that’s what it comes down to. The fans, they don’t really have an agenda that it has to be this or it has to be that. It just has to be good.”      Redner says the upcoming show in Flagstaff will let the band’s high altitude acoustic music resonate and “people who come to the show will feel a continuous line of American roots music.” He says the show will have covers of music by the band’s heroes from a range of eras and after meeting up with Railroad Earth a little less than two weeks before, “by the time we get to Flagstaff, we’ll be in full force.”      “Politically we are a band that has liberal leanings and we are very concerned about the state of the union and the world,” Redner says. “We’re saying things on stage occasionally that we might find important, but not trying to alienate people. We live in such a volatile time, though there always seems to be some of that, now more than ever people are speaking out.”      Hot Buttered Rum puts its money where its mouth is with practice and influence. The band tours the country inside a biodiesel van and promotes other groups to jump on the bandwagon with instructions and informative tips on its Web site.      Both Carbone and Redner humbly agree that the groups have picked up displaced music nomads, like Deadheads, Phishheads and Cheeseheads. “Yes, we’re definitely finding more people from that circle coming to our shows,” Redner says. “We’re helping to carry on that legacy while we’re creating our own, but we’re not that big of a band, yet.”      Railroad Earth and Hot Buttered Rum are coming to the Orpheum Theatre, 15 W. Aspen, Tue, Oct. 2. Tickets are $15 in advance and $18 at the door. The show is all ages, doors open at 7 p.m., and it starts at 8 p.m. For more information on Railroad Earth, see www.railroadearth.com. For more information on Hot Buttered Rum, go to www.hotbutteredrum.net. For more information on the show, go to www.orpheumpresents.com or call 556-1580. Additional photos for this story: Back in the barn: New Jersey’s golden boys Railroad Earth. By C. Taylor Crothers. Courtesy of Madison House Publicity.

 

 

The urge to purge The honest ramblings of songwriter, rock guitarist Jerry Joseph By Molly Coulter Published on 09/20/2007

Photo courtesy of Jerry Joseph.

More than two decades ago a raspy voice from Portland, Ore., started covering the dismal and the dour with a new folk force that set ablaze the genre’s standards. Jerry Joseph called on his life’s woes and triumphs to expose the gritty stories of America. He began with a Colorado band of hippies called Little Women, set out solo and led the Jackmormons, teamed up with hard-hitting players in Stockholm Syndrome and comes to Flagstaff in a trio this week. He says his music is his work, not his passion or his art. He says he can’t call his catalogue of 200 to 300 songs prolific. He is self-deprecating and blunt, but even Joseph has to agree that “honest” is a commendation synonymous with his work.      “The word that I hate the most is the word ‘earnest.’ ‘Earnest’ is Ben Harper and I can’t stand that music,” Joseph says. “Everything is super f**king important and it’s not important. It’s a dumb rock band.”      I ask him to describe a typical show and he balks. “It’s very hard to be objective,” he says before putting it openly. “It’s an angry little barefoot bald man screaming about whatever for two hours. I’m a little guy with a Napoleon complex.”      Joseph says he’s more attached to playing live as it’s “more in my face. It’s instant gratification,” as compared to creating and laying down tracks for albums.

“I usually only make one a year and as I’m getting older hopefully I’m getting a little better at it so it’s not like pulling teeth,” Joseph says. “But I never hear them again. It’s not like I put on my own music.”      A few years back the Southern blues, rock jam giants Widespread Panic began covering some of Joseph’s songs and turn to him still for fresh material. “They are written specifically for Panic,” he says. “I wouldn’t even know how to play them. I’m trying to give them an opportunity to own them artistically or whatever.”      Joseph says he’s typically alone and as far from distraction as geographically possible when he writes music.      “I tend to write in clusters. I don’t write all the time. I don’t sit down with my guitar at all,” he says. “I’ve got a specific reason to do it, like I’m going to make a record. But I am pretty affected about where I am. This last batch of songs I wrote in Harlem, so it sounds like it a lot. I go to Central America, Mexico, wherever I can go to be by myself. I’m going to Hong Kong in a month and hopefully I can write something there.”      “It’s only the last couple of years that I’ve been playing with all sorts of different lineups of musicians,” Joseph says. Jerry Joseph and the Jackmormons started up in 1996, aptly taking the name from Joseph’s battle with heroine addiction and recovery that led him to Salt Lake City. His collaborations include five-piece synthesis Stockholm Syndrome featuring guitarist Eric McFadden and Widespread Panic bassist Dave Schools. Joseph and Schools co-created the group realizing their contrasting musical styles and perspectives could form a rock-hard base and additional talented players could fill out the sound. Joseph says he’ll shift focus to a duo with drummer Steve Drizos who has toured and recorded with Joseph in the past. The pair cut an album due for release in December or January, but tie-ups with their label are hanging it in the balance. Joseph says they are aiming for the band name The Denmark Vessey’s, which their recording company can’t swallow. Joseph says most of the country outside of Charleston, S.C., might need to Google “Denmark Vessey.”      “He’s the black slave that almost pulled off the largest slave rebellion in American history,” he says. The upcoming album is a tribute to heroes, criminals and vigilantes. The band name seems suitable, but Joseph says, “part of the problem [with Vessey] was to kill every White person. However, here in Harlem he’s pretty f**king cool.”      Joseph answers my questions via cell phone as he walks to the bank near his home. He apologizes from the get-go, telling me there’s always someone screaming on the streets. Throughout the conversation I hear his assertion is correct.      “Harlem is funny,” he says. “One street’s cool and the next one is pretty scary.”      Though he’s commonly associated with Portland, Ore., Joseph says he spent time just south of Flagstaff as well.      “I’ve been playing Flagstaff since 1982,” he says. “I have a mixed relationship with it. When I was a kid I lived for a little while outside of Sedona. I have friends there. I’ve had a lot of interaction with it and if anything, it feels like we don’t play there enough. It’s an important place to play if you’re going through Arizona. This tour we’re going out of our way to play there. We’re literally just driving down to northern Arizona to stop in Flagstaff.”      Joseph’s voice sounds a bit like Bruce Cockburn or Van Morrison. You can hear Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen’s influences and he says he admires Elvis Costello, who epitomizes the craft of bizarre lyrical tales that Joseph often creates. But when I ask what musicians continue to influence him he plainly says, “I don’t know if there is something that I draw on continually. If I haven’t got my own voice by now, I’m running a little late.”      Jerry Joseph, Steve Drizos and Junior Ruppel will play Sun, Sept. 23 at Mogollon Brewing Co., 15 N. Agassiz St. The show is $10 and starts at 8 p.m. Local jamsters Sick Finger Guru are slated to open. For more information, call 773-8950. This Week’s Cover Partners Northern Arizona’s   Mountain Living   Magazine Arizona Daily Sun Flagstaff Live Advertisers

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