According to my calculations, I shouldn’t be writing this piece. For one, I was in the Dirty Blue for a few months. Secondly, I am friends with these folks. I’ve known Dima for the better part of the Aughts. I’ve also known the brothers Kuhl for a while too. It’s hard (for me at least) to write well about records that friends and acquaintances have made. I think there’s a tendency to “make nice” or let your familiarity with the material and the shows and the rough mixes dull your ability see the “finished product” clearly. I still cringe when I think of the gush I wrote about Wolcott’s ickily recorded, over-mussed-with, full-length because I was still enamored with the earlier, messier, better band they had been. It probably didn’t help that I knew the recording’s primary engineer and had heard more than a half-dozen mixes and versions of some of those songs.
Another peril of writing reviews or review-like pieces for friends or acquaintances is that you get into this weird trap of wanting to give folks excerptable bits they can use for promo while finding at least something to criticize so that you don’t look like a complete hand job-dispensing machine. This forced balance winds up rankling all but the most level-headed folks. Essentially, there’s no way to write a review or interpretation that will satisfy the person on the receiving end. You’ll be called out as “not getting it” when you don’t read “the artist’s” mind or catch every fiddly little reference or in-joke. But if you praise them mercilessly, you’ll be accused of going easy. It’s a sucker’s game.
Once I wrote a mostly positive little blurb about a record some internet guitarist did and he zeroed in on the one or two glibly-worded criticisms I’d made. In particular, I referred to his sensitive self-awareness ballad number as bogged down by “sensitive piano crap.” Dude. Lost. His. Shit. And who can blame him? Writers, musicians, artists of any stripe rarely enjoy being critiqued or having folks point out how they’re doing their magic tricks. I know I’ve been a dick when someone evaluated something I did and it was found wanting. I understand the impulse to lash out and defend your stuff. It’s important to you. You’re hypercritical of any that could even be perceived as a dig. Knowing this, I mostly try to refrain from getting involved in situations where I might find myself personally between the artist and his/her precious, misshapen cubs.
Like I said, I shouldn’t really be writing this.
Not only did Dima coach me through learning the rather precisely written bass parts for a good number of the songs on The Dirty Blue, but a couple of these songs were performed by (or considered by) Dima and my band the Spring. I helped Dima fill-out early demos of other songs here that later were used by the Dirty Blue to develop better arrangements. At least one of these songs has annoyed the bejeezus out of me for years. And “Sometimes” — heck, I came up with the surfy little guitar part at the beginning, and the arrangement on record still smacks of my lousy Peter Buck impersonations from back when I was learning guitar play-as-you-go-style in the Spring.
The Blue now do “Sometimes” with a more pronounced surf rock feel live, and I had to learn the bass part to that new version. I think I finally figured out when the verse chord progression gives way to the chorus chord progression under that arrangement. This petty frustration with a song that I’ve played (lamely) a hundred times no doubt colors my ability to listen to it and spin out a tidy blurb like “With ‘Sometimes’ the Dirty Blue have crafted a gleaming gem of dark jangle-pop.” I mean, I know that Pete (the Spring’s drummer) was trying to rip off the Strokes when he came up with the drum beat. I know that I used to daydream when we performed this one early on and lose my place as I worried whether I’d be able to improvise a credible melodic solo. (I couldn’t.)
I also know what the guys in the Dirty Blue went through to make this record — and I certainly know that I thought some of their choices were nuts. I remember Dima telling me that they had spent X number of days in the studio. I inquired if I could hear what they did, and was told that it wouldn’t make sense because it was nothing but drum tracks. That’s right — Nate put down all the drums (again and again and again if the stories are to be believed) with little more than some scratch rhythm guitar as his guide. At the time I thought this was little more than extreme fussiness and budding insanity.
Dima and I have some philosophical differences about what rock records should sound like. I’m also lazy and a bit of a minimalist. I like to track everything live. When I was with the Blissters we cut the entire record in a day with the basic tracks done like we were on stage. Admittedly, the sound of that recording is pretty “meh” and a bit crap, too. You know what, I was WRONG about the ridiculousness of recording all the drum tracks separately. The drums on The Dirty Blue sound incredible. Part of that is Nate’s excellent feel and timing, but part of it is also the band’s commitment to precisely tuned drums and keeping nothing less than the very best they can do.
As the rather lengthy recording process edged towards completion, Dima let me hear some of the rough mixes. He asked me what the band sounded like and how he might best market the Blue to venues, radio, labels, etc. I struggled with this — partly because I wanted to avoid the trap of pissing off friends with an imprecise description, and partly because I’m not sure what little niche I’d put them in.
As an album, The Dirty Blue is squarely in the “retro” column, but not in a cheap, gimmicky, easily-classifiable way. You’ll not find any cute synth bits or obvious electric twelve-string chime pointing you to a specific decade. Most every song features John Kuhl’s warm, melodic guitaring. His playing is obviously influenced by British blues titans like Clapton and Peter Green. Still, there’s declarative, simplicity to his playing. On record his playing often reminds me of Tom Petty’s ace Mike Campbell. John really focuses on playing what works for the song. For instance on “So, So Sad” he not only carries the song’s playful little hook, but he shows off a bit of versatility with his almost-Beatley slide solo during the break.
Perhaps the Petty connection is what strikes me as “retro” about the Dirty Blue. Their music is firmly rooted in traditional rock forms and sounds. They don’t really futz with their song structures. From learning these songs, I know that they’re a fairly simple math behind them. There’s an orderliness to The Dirty Blue — which I know could seem like a dig from a slop rock apologist like myself. I don’t mean it as a dig. Without the necessary structure, all the intricately layered harmony vocals, organ parts, and multi-guitar wall-of-strum would be for naught. Maybe “retro” isn’t the right word. The Dirty Blue is a “classicist” rock record with careful attention paid to capturing fine-tuned performances in the most accurate, pleasing way possible. This dedication to precision and craft is likely what makes it hard for me do an easy “RIYL” comparison (though I could see them sharing a bill with the Raconteurs). They don’t really sound like any particular popular trend because they’re not really playing the same game.
Like any band that has an album recorded and album art worked up, the Blue are looking at their next step in terms of getting their record to listeners. And their “out of timeness” is a bit of an issue. I reckon it’s a lot easier to be a coattail-riding band that sounds like a handful of other likeminded acts — you can book shows together, mooch from each other’s fan base, pretend to be a scene. It’s a nice promotional tool, being part of a group happening.
In light of this, I’ve been considering the “fate” of the Dirty Blue a bit — in no small part because I like Dima, John, and Nate and because I respect John as a guitarist and am impressed by Nate’s ability to play just about anything and play it well. And Dima is my friend and a tireless band-promoting fiend. The man has a vision, and in a very real way he has accomplished a sizable chunk of what he had set his sights on when we first met. Still, despite the achievement of self-financing and producing a very nice sounding album of their own songs, the Dirty Blue are, for many people, not yet a “real” band. They aren’t signed. Their record isn’t stocked in chain stores. They aren’t represented or managed or promoted. In short, by virtue of owning their own work and setting their own course, they are “less” valid (commercially, hype-wise) than bands who’ve traded a bit of autonomy for some kind of business “partnership” or even some kind of scene allegiance.
A buddy of mine is a bit of a radical thinker with some pretty stiff arguments against compulsory education. He pointed me towards some arguments against institutionalized schooling and the “mudsill” theory that folks won’t do anything worthwhile unless the powers that be trick them into learning and behaving. Ultimately, the essay in question contrasts the freedom of self-sufficiency with the indentured servitude of learning for and working for others.
From Mudsill Theory by John Taylor Gatto
…[M]any alternative schooling ideas fizzle out quickly. However inadvertently, most of them breed an independence of mind which inevitably gets people thinking about self-sufficiency. From the point of view of big government, big corporation, big institution the incentive to support educational practices whose graduates would not fit easily into your own plans just isn’t there. To me it seems inconceivable that it would ever be. Why would anyone who makes a living selling certain goods, say cigarettes or processed cheese, or services, say welfare inspections or school teaching, be enthusiastic about schools that taught, even indirectly, that those things weren’t necessary? What about schools that taught “less is more?” How could that be good for business? What about schools that taught that television-viewing, even of PBS, alters the structure of the mind for the worse? Can you imagine that being encouraged?
Maybe it’s because I’m aware of the Kuhls’ own alternative schooling or Dima’s growing up in the U.S.S.R. that I’m connecting the dots between this anti-school argument and the Dirty Blue’s own self-sufficient outsider ways. Still, I think there’s something laudable about really “doing it yourself” — and even using D.I.Y. methods outside the usual punk rock ghetto.
I think that those of us who make music and write about music and consume music should reconsider the wisdom of replicating on our own and privileging corporate-style models of music making and music distribution and music fandom. I think it’s hard for anyone raised by television and Hostess Brand Snack Cakes to let go our prejudice for officially-licensed corporate product. I know I’ve disregarded bands who’ve handed me a hand-lettered CD-R while being easily suckered in by freebies complete with shrink-wrap and barcodes. After all, we’re all told that officially good stuff thoroughly vetted by our business betters comes in official-looking packages. And then we wonder why when we have a good idea or a good sound or a good story we find ourselves banging on the castle gate begging an audience with the kings of appropriate product.
Congrats, Dirty Blue, on making your album the way you wanted to make it. It sounds really great.
The Dirty Blue can be previewed at http://album.thedirtyblue.com
The So, So Sad and Idle Hands EPs are available for digital purchase at iTunes and Amazon.com
