Hi Ho Silver Oh
Leslie Stevens and the Badgers, The Driftwood Singers
Tue, July 10, 2012
8:30 pm
The Echo
Los Angeles, California
Free 21+; $5 under 21
This event is 18 and over
http://www.theecho.com/event/136501/
Share This Event
Hi Ho Silver Oh
A short biographical essay about Hi Ho Silver Oh.
By William Randolph Brafford.
A week or two ago, I was watching my friend Casey play his songs for a small crowd at Chapel Hill's Nightlight club. I hadn't seen him play solo-acoustic at a show in I don't know how long, and I was a little bit surprised to find that the things I love about Casey's music now are basically the same things I loved back in high school when we played shows together in church rec-rooms. And now Casey has asked me to write a short biographical essay for his "one sheet," whatever that is, and so I get to try to put some of what I observed in the Nightlight into prose. As I see it, the point of what I'm writing is (1) to explain to you something about who Casey Trela is and where he comes from, (2) to say something about what his band, Hi Ho Silver Oh, sounds like, and, if all goes well, (3) to give a glimpse of what I think Casey is about, deep down. I'm not sure that I can do it right, but here goes.
Casey spent the first part of his life in Rome, New York, which is somewhere in the upstate, but he moved to North Carolina and went to middle school, high school, and college there. While in high school, he wrote and home-recorded a couple of largely acoustic albums that sounded a little bit like unplugged Jimmy Eat World, but more expansive and autobiographical. It was during this time that he started developing his penchant for house shows, playing, for example, in my family's living room for maybe fifteen people who all liked his songs. (He'd also play for bigger audiences churches and coffeehouses; we were too young to hang out in bars.)
In college, Casey started a band called Sweater Weather, and he kind of blossomed as an arranger, bandleader, and songwriter. They'd play everything from fantastically loud and intense songs about the eschaton to whisper-quiet songs about moving away from a childhood home. But college ended, and so did the band, and Casey moved to Los Angeles. On the West Coast, he started writing songs that he could play either by himself or with whoever else showed up, and he called the project Hi Ho Silver Oh.
But what does it sound like? There are some things that hold constant over Casey's entire output: the introspective-with-bright-flashes-of-humor lyrics, the intuitive sensitivity to dynamics, the catchy-enough-to-sing-along choruses that beg you to participate, the home-recording ethic. But with this project Casey has started to do things I haven't heard him do before: a few Roy Orbison-style love ballads, sunny California harmonies, and delicate instrumental lines and chord progressions. The guitar is the central instrument, so everything works for the solo shows, but the sound gets fleshed out in the recordings by keyboards and tambourines and the occasional violin, depending on what the song requires.
And I think I can shed some light on why Casey writes these songs. One time when we were driving south from Washington DC back to North Carolina, Casey explained to me why Roy Orbison's version of "Love Hurts" is better than any other version he's heard. There's this one line — "love is like a stove / burns you when it's hot" — that some covers omit. Even good covers, like the one by Gram Parsons and Emmylou Harris, tend to make love's hurt sound like something that's good in the long run, but not Roy. When Orbison sings about getting burned, he means that love actually hurts. Badly. It's not a no-pain-no-gain kind of thing, it's just hurt. Some of us know this from experience. Of course, Roy Orbison also sang "Running Scared," so he knew that love is good even as love hurts, and these parts of love can be separate or they can be mixed, and that these are truths that can be hard to sing without being sentimental. These are the kinds of truths that Hi Ho Silver Oh wants to get across, and to get them across in a way that we can sing them together and maybe be somehow better for it. Or at least, that's my take on it.
I hope that answers all of your questions.
-wrb
By William Randolph Brafford.
A week or two ago, I was watching my friend Casey play his songs for a small crowd at Chapel Hill's Nightlight club. I hadn't seen him play solo-acoustic at a show in I don't know how long, and I was a little bit surprised to find that the things I love about Casey's music now are basically the same things I loved back in high school when we played shows together in church rec-rooms. And now Casey has asked me to write a short biographical essay for his "one sheet," whatever that is, and so I get to try to put some of what I observed in the Nightlight into prose. As I see it, the point of what I'm writing is (1) to explain to you something about who Casey Trela is and where he comes from, (2) to say something about what his band, Hi Ho Silver Oh, sounds like, and, if all goes well, (3) to give a glimpse of what I think Casey is about, deep down. I'm not sure that I can do it right, but here goes.
Casey spent the first part of his life in Rome, New York, which is somewhere in the upstate, but he moved to North Carolina and went to middle school, high school, and college there. While in high school, he wrote and home-recorded a couple of largely acoustic albums that sounded a little bit like unplugged Jimmy Eat World, but more expansive and autobiographical. It was during this time that he started developing his penchant for house shows, playing, for example, in my family's living room for maybe fifteen people who all liked his songs. (He'd also play for bigger audiences churches and coffeehouses; we were too young to hang out in bars.)
In college, Casey started a band called Sweater Weather, and he kind of blossomed as an arranger, bandleader, and songwriter. They'd play everything from fantastically loud and intense songs about the eschaton to whisper-quiet songs about moving away from a childhood home. But college ended, and so did the band, and Casey moved to Los Angeles. On the West Coast, he started writing songs that he could play either by himself or with whoever else showed up, and he called the project Hi Ho Silver Oh.
But what does it sound like? There are some things that hold constant over Casey's entire output: the introspective-with-bright-flashes-of-humor lyrics, the intuitive sensitivity to dynamics, the catchy-enough-to-sing-along choruses that beg you to participate, the home-recording ethic. But with this project Casey has started to do things I haven't heard him do before: a few Roy Orbison-style love ballads, sunny California harmonies, and delicate instrumental lines and chord progressions. The guitar is the central instrument, so everything works for the solo shows, but the sound gets fleshed out in the recordings by keyboards and tambourines and the occasional violin, depending on what the song requires.
And I think I can shed some light on why Casey writes these songs. One time when we were driving south from Washington DC back to North Carolina, Casey explained to me why Roy Orbison's version of "Love Hurts" is better than any other version he's heard. There's this one line — "love is like a stove / burns you when it's hot" — that some covers omit. Even good covers, like the one by Gram Parsons and Emmylou Harris, tend to make love's hurt sound like something that's good in the long run, but not Roy. When Orbison sings about getting burned, he means that love actually hurts. Badly. It's not a no-pain-no-gain kind of thing, it's just hurt. Some of us know this from experience. Of course, Roy Orbison also sang "Running Scared," so he knew that love is good even as love hurts, and these parts of love can be separate or they can be mixed, and that these are truths that can be hard to sing without being sentimental. These are the kinds of truths that Hi Ho Silver Oh wants to get across, and to get them across in a way that we can sing them together and maybe be somehow better for it. Or at least, that's my take on it.
I hope that answers all of your questions.
-wrb
Leslie Stevens and the Badgers
Leslie Stevens may just be the sweetheart of the rodeo. Not your traditional rodeo, mind you: this one's a traveling road show, a displaced menagerie of vintage country rock, Laurel Canyon folk and haunted gypsy jazz.
Roomful of Smoke, the new LP from Leslie Stevens and The Badgers, shuffles and swaggers to the march of a different drum. It's a glittering showcase for Leslie's pitch-perfect, honeyed croon, a lighter-than-air twang that channels Emmylou, Dolly and Neko Case in the same understated breath.
Produced by legendary studio maven David Bianco (Bob Dylan, Tom Petty, Teenage Fanclub), Roomful of Smoke merges Leslie's sultry vocals and poignant lyrics with the unhurried polish of the Badgers, a crack team of musicians with studio chops and record collections to match, a versatile set of musicians equally at home with Western Swing, Texas two-step and dialed-down LA folk rock.
Born in Chicago and raised in St. Louis, Missouri, Leslie began singing in her church choir, eventually migrating to Los Angeles for college, with further stays in Italy and New Mexico. Writing songs the entire time—she was in LA punk band Zeitgeist Auto Parts for a spell—Leslie later found steady work at soundtrack composer Hans Zimmer's studio in Santa Monica and provided original compositions for cult filmmaker Owen Land. Armed with a fresh batch of songs, Leslie then set out to recruit musicians who could help her realize her eclectic vision.
Roomful of Smoke begins with a lovelorn paean to the group's hometown, "Los Angeles," charting the ambitions and frustrations of life in that city, with Leslie backed by fingerpicked guitar, bowed bass fiddle and Hammond organ. On the title track, "Roomful of Smoke," they unleash the twang, venturing into driving roots rock with overdriven guitars and the occasional Fleetwood Mac melodic flourish. The band plays a different hand on the hypnotic "Old Timers," a lush, elegant gem that explores friendship and the possibility of loss. It's a fan favorite for good reason, with rich storytelling, clever imagery and a memorable chorus.
"My Tears are Wasted on You" is pure vintage Nashville gold, with Leslie delivering a vocal lead to rival other Canyon Cowgirls of late. The arrangement ebbs and flows with effortless grace, from the waltzing fiddle lines to the liquid mercury of the spot-on pedal steel.
With a sound that that transcends genre and time, Leslie Stevens and The Badgers wouldn't be out of place at the Grand Ole Opry or A Prairie Home Companion (or at renowned alternative LA venue Spaceland, for that matter). "It's Okay to Trip" sings Leslie, perhaps a subconscious nod to the round-the-world excursion of her record. This final track lands us back where we started: a meditation on human frailty and the need for redemption, a wink from a companion and a smile in the general direction of the cosmos.
See you on the other side, friend.
praise
"Leslie Stevens and her ferociously named backing band play bewitching indie folk highlighted by Stevens' clear, bell-like voice and spot-on country twang." – LA TIMES
"Unfortunately No Depression just called it quits, because if there ever was a band that magazine was going to break, this is it." –The Portland Mercury
"Whether she's longing for a person ("My Tears Are Wasted on You"), place ("Los Angeles") or thing ("Salvation"), Leslie Stevens sings like a country honey who can hold her own in the big city. Pity the fool who broke her heart." – Philadelphia City Paper
"Leslie Stevens and The Badgers are quietly turning into one of the city's best...retro country-pop settings with clear-eyed and thoughtfully incisive lyrics." – LA Weekly
"Sultry vocals and poignant lyrics." – San Francisco Chronicle
"The Los Angeles music scene is enjoying an unlikely twang-rock boom, and these traditional revivalists could be the next to blow up, with a Dolly Parton-style young starlet singer and smoking musicianship." – Minneapolis Star Tribune
You can't help but be reminded of Emmylou Harris when you hear her voice but you will never be confused by it. Ms. Stevens can sing country, R & B, blues, or anything else that may come her way...You best have your ear to the ground on this...It's that good and you can expect to hear a lot more from this amazingly talented band." – No Depression
Roomful of Smoke, the new LP from Leslie Stevens and The Badgers, shuffles and swaggers to the march of a different drum. It's a glittering showcase for Leslie's pitch-perfect, honeyed croon, a lighter-than-air twang that channels Emmylou, Dolly and Neko Case in the same understated breath.
Produced by legendary studio maven David Bianco (Bob Dylan, Tom Petty, Teenage Fanclub), Roomful of Smoke merges Leslie's sultry vocals and poignant lyrics with the unhurried polish of the Badgers, a crack team of musicians with studio chops and record collections to match, a versatile set of musicians equally at home with Western Swing, Texas two-step and dialed-down LA folk rock.
Born in Chicago and raised in St. Louis, Missouri, Leslie began singing in her church choir, eventually migrating to Los Angeles for college, with further stays in Italy and New Mexico. Writing songs the entire time—she was in LA punk band Zeitgeist Auto Parts for a spell—Leslie later found steady work at soundtrack composer Hans Zimmer's studio in Santa Monica and provided original compositions for cult filmmaker Owen Land. Armed with a fresh batch of songs, Leslie then set out to recruit musicians who could help her realize her eclectic vision.
Roomful of Smoke begins with a lovelorn paean to the group's hometown, "Los Angeles," charting the ambitions and frustrations of life in that city, with Leslie backed by fingerpicked guitar, bowed bass fiddle and Hammond organ. On the title track, "Roomful of Smoke," they unleash the twang, venturing into driving roots rock with overdriven guitars and the occasional Fleetwood Mac melodic flourish. The band plays a different hand on the hypnotic "Old Timers," a lush, elegant gem that explores friendship and the possibility of loss. It's a fan favorite for good reason, with rich storytelling, clever imagery and a memorable chorus.
"My Tears are Wasted on You" is pure vintage Nashville gold, with Leslie delivering a vocal lead to rival other Canyon Cowgirls of late. The arrangement ebbs and flows with effortless grace, from the waltzing fiddle lines to the liquid mercury of the spot-on pedal steel.
With a sound that that transcends genre and time, Leslie Stevens and The Badgers wouldn't be out of place at the Grand Ole Opry or A Prairie Home Companion (or at renowned alternative LA venue Spaceland, for that matter). "It's Okay to Trip" sings Leslie, perhaps a subconscious nod to the round-the-world excursion of her record. This final track lands us back where we started: a meditation on human frailty and the need for redemption, a wink from a companion and a smile in the general direction of the cosmos.
See you on the other side, friend.
praise
"Leslie Stevens and her ferociously named backing band play bewitching indie folk highlighted by Stevens' clear, bell-like voice and spot-on country twang." – LA TIMES
"Unfortunately No Depression just called it quits, because if there ever was a band that magazine was going to break, this is it." –The Portland Mercury
"Whether she's longing for a person ("My Tears Are Wasted on You"), place ("Los Angeles") or thing ("Salvation"), Leslie Stevens sings like a country honey who can hold her own in the big city. Pity the fool who broke her heart." – Philadelphia City Paper
"Leslie Stevens and The Badgers are quietly turning into one of the city's best...retro country-pop settings with clear-eyed and thoughtfully incisive lyrics." – LA Weekly
"Sultry vocals and poignant lyrics." – San Francisco Chronicle
"The Los Angeles music scene is enjoying an unlikely twang-rock boom, and these traditional revivalists could be the next to blow up, with a Dolly Parton-style young starlet singer and smoking musicianship." – Minneapolis Star Tribune
You can't help but be reminded of Emmylou Harris when you hear her voice but you will never be confused by it. Ms. Stevens can sing country, R & B, blues, or anything else that may come her way...You best have your ear to the ground on this...It's that good and you can expect to hear a lot more from this amazingly talented band." – No Depression
The Driftwood Singers
The Driftwood Singers unassumingly take the stage and sing songs that could have been written ages ago but were more likely written in the last few weeks. Just barely in their 20′s The Driftwood Singers are prolific writers immersed in the folk tradition building on songs and stories that at their heart are observations of the human condition in all it’s gruesome variations and beautiful splendor.
Constantly on the road since beginning the band nearly two years ago at the age of 19, playing all over the country and Canada, The Driftwood Singers are quite a surprising contrast to what one might expect from two kids born and raised in the heart of Los Angeles. They prove that one can love the Carter Family and traditional music and still be firmly in the present with songs as vibrant and alive as any we’ve heard and an attitude that embraces the anti-elitist and DIY ethos of the punks we love
Their debut, 5-song EP, Look! beautifully exemplifies their determination. After experimenting with some big studios and becoming frustrated with the intervals of multi-tracking and the stale output of Protools, they decided one night to pare everything down to its stark essence and begin recording it on a Sony Walkman which they did by laying it on their living room table and pressing record. What’s captured is the immediacy of their performances and what they call “the transparency of sound”.
How can you go wrong with songs of death and hope, murder and love, lechery and splendor, transcendence and cruelty and all points in between! We’re looking forward to being a part The Driftwood Singers story as it winds it’s way through the hills, hollers, canyons and caves out of the shadows of the blue ridge mountains of Pocahontas, West Virginia to wide open starlit skies of Joshua Tree, California.
Constantly on the road since beginning the band nearly two years ago at the age of 19, playing all over the country and Canada, The Driftwood Singers are quite a surprising contrast to what one might expect from two kids born and raised in the heart of Los Angeles. They prove that one can love the Carter Family and traditional music and still be firmly in the present with songs as vibrant and alive as any we’ve heard and an attitude that embraces the anti-elitist and DIY ethos of the punks we love
Their debut, 5-song EP, Look! beautifully exemplifies their determination. After experimenting with some big studios and becoming frustrated with the intervals of multi-tracking and the stale output of Protools, they decided one night to pare everything down to its stark essence and begin recording it on a Sony Walkman which they did by laying it on their living room table and pressing record. What’s captured is the immediacy of their performances and what they call “the transparency of sound”.
How can you go wrong with songs of death and hope, murder and love, lechery and splendor, transcendence and cruelty and all points in between! We’re looking forward to being a part The Driftwood Singers story as it winds it’s way through the hills, hollers, canyons and caves out of the shadows of the blue ridge mountains of Pocahontas, West Virginia to wide open starlit skies of Joshua Tree, California.
Venue Information:
The Echo
1822 W Sunset Blvd
Los Angeles, California, 90026
The Echo
1822 W Sunset Blvd
Los Angeles, California, 90026
