Preview 5-06-12 Charleston, SC

© Charlie Llewellin

Barn Stormers: The Gourds Feel the Spirit of Levon Helm
By Stratton Lawrence
May 2, 2012

After 18 years on the road, Kevin "Shinyribs" Russell is happy to be home. Musicians in his hometown of Austin, Texas, are the equivalent of military men in other cities: Kids grow up understanding that when daddy goes to work, he'll be gone for a while.

"But I'll choose kids over gigs, any time, any day," exclaims Russell. "Everybody in the band feels the same way. We're all great fathers and husbands. Given the track records of most musicians, it's pretty amazing."

The twangy quintet has managed to keep their lineup virtually intact since 1994, despite raising 12 children among them and never scoring a revenue-generating hit song. Russell shares songwriting duties with bassist Jimmy Smith and multi-instrumentalist Max Johnston, a veteran of alt-country stalwarts Son Volt and Uncle Tupelo. Drummer Keith Langford and accordion player/guitarist Claude Bernard round out the group.

The Gourds' biggest brush with national fame arrived through their 1998 cover of Snoop Dogg's "Gin and Juice," a recording that caught fire on Napster and college campus file-sharing networks. But, unfortunately for the band, the mp3 file that spread was labeled "Phish," earning the Vermont jam band undue credit and song requests at concerts.

Despite 10 studio albums under their belt, the Gourds haven't managed to secure a single that could put the "Gin and Juice" albatross to bed. Both 1999's Ghosts of Hallelujah and 2004's Blood of the Ram earned lofty critical praise, helping the band solidify a modest national following. Their most recent effort, 2011's Old Mad Joy, may be the recording that earns them a permanent spot in the unofficial alt-country hall-of-fame.

Recorded last spring at the late Levon Helm's studio, the Barn, adjacent to his house in Woodstock, N.Y., the Gourds called on multi-instrumentalist Larry Campbell to assume control at the mixer. It was their first-ever hand-off to an outside producer. A veteran of tours with Helm, Bob Dylan, and Phil Lesh, Campbell took the Gourds rambling country energy and refocused it into driving, Rolling Stones-esque concision.

"On [opening track "I Want It So Bad"], Larry said, 'Go ahead and play some fills,'" Russell recalls. "I played a little lick, and he was like, 'No, that's off of Beggar's Banquet.' I played another one, and he said, 'No, that's Goats Head Soup.' I said, 'I guess I can't play nothing but Keith Richards licks on this song.'"

Russell talked to the City Paper immediately after leaving an Austin television studio where he'd just recorded a voiceover on a commercial for the local children's museum. A rookie voice actor, he found himself struggling with requests like "put a little beat between phrases" and "say it with more energy but more matter-of-fact." Russell compares the experience to recording with Campbell at the helm. "The way it's always been with the Gourds, everyone has a veto. We're like the Polish parliament, vetoing ourselves out of existence and canceling each other out," he laughs. "Larry brought a sort of control to the situation. It was liberating, in a submissive way, like the pleasure of enslavement."

The Gourds also had the inspirational presence of Helm to guide them through the process. The legendary drummer of the Band, who died earlier this month, frequently strolled over in his slippers to hear their progress, and his dogs were a constant presence outside the barn. "We tried not to be too much like big fan boys," Russell says. "He would come over and ask us if we needed anything. I found him to be very old-fashioned and charming."

After arriving in Woodstock more prepared than they'd ever been to record, the band found their songs being picked apart to the nth degree. In between recording sessions, Campbell sent individual members off into back rooms to write new choruses, restructure verses, and practice their own parts.

"We went in there with these songs pretty damn arranged, figuring we'd knock 'em out pretty quick. Not the case, my friend," Russell recounts. "We learned a lot about arranging songs from Larry. You'd think by now we'd know all that stuff, but you never stop learning. It's a lifelong thing. Since then, we've been finding old songs and playing them live with new arrangements."

Letting a third-party intervene in their process gave the band a sense of enthusiasm and energy. Whereas communication within the band is often "the passive-aggressive style typical of our generation," as Russell explains, the group found itself able to take criticism from Campbell — the kind of comments that would have earned a "Fuck off!" if offered from a bandmate.

The result, Old Mad Joy, is a collection ranging from classic Gourds-style tunes like "Melchert" to "Peppermint City," which could easily be a cut off one of the Band's post-reunion albums in the '90s.

It's a fitting cornerstone in the career of a group nearing their 20th year, still balancing the same mid-level club circuit and wear-and-tear of the road with the gritty grace they've maintained since the first rowdy fan hollered "Gin and Juice" at the stage, years ago.

The Gourds Sun. May 6th at The Pour House 8 pm $12 cover
© 2012 Charleston City Paper

The Rag Blog: Highly Praised & Historically Resonant

Old Mad Joy: No Last Waltz for the Gourds
By Jan Reid / The Rag Blog
December 14, 2011

In the 40-odd years since Austin became more than a backwater of American music, none of its talents have been more rousing and enduring than the band called the Gourds.

The Gourds came out this fall with a highly praised and historically resonant Vanguard release, Old Mad Joy. They have four fine singers and songwriters and an astonishing facility with an array of instruments that include acoustic and bass and electric guitar, mandolin, accordion, violin, piano and organ, and drums. They blend strains and echoes of gospel, rock, blues, country, bluegrass, Cajun, even barbershop harmony -- sometimes all of that blended in one song.

I first encountered them about 10 years ago, and I thought, good lord, it was like seeing and hearing The Band. That first exposure led me to an album called Shinebox, which was recorded in the Netherlands, and that started with a pitch- and humor-perfect country-western take on Snoop Doggy Dogg's hip-hop classic, "Gin and Juice." The band's leader -- to the extent they have one -- is a large good-natured man named Kevin Russell. The cover was an Internet sensation, and reached the notice of Mr. Dogg, as the late Molly Ivins tagged him. An associate on his radio program reached Russell and asked the Gourds to roll on over and rap.

Russell hesitated and said they would have to make some travel arrangements. “The guy said, ‘You’re where?’ Like everybody in the world lives in Los Angeles. I guess if you live out there it seems like they do.” Shinebox also contained eclectic covers of David Bowie's "Ziggy Stardust," Townes Van Zandt's "Two Girls," and Billy Joe Shaver's "Omaha." But now the Gourds seldom play any covers, because their own writing is so prolific and so good.

Jimmy Smith, the Gourds’ bass player and another star singer, has curly black hair and sideburns that are going a little gray now. In style and voice Smith reminded me of the late singer and piano player Richard Manuel, of The Band. David Langford, a rancher and nature photographer whose son Keith is the Gourds’ drummer, told me that I had it wrong. “Listen to him again,” he said. “He is Rick Danko” -- the late singer and bass player of The Band, which in the sixties and seventies, especially with the parting Martin Scorcese movie The Last Waltz, far transcended its origins as Bob Dylan’s backup group.

Smith nodded politely as I mentioned the similarities and perceived influences. “We’d never heard of them until people like you started telling us that we sound like them,” he said with a smile, perhaps putting me on. It was a gentle way of saying I was old enough to be his father.

Russell asked me one time, “You want to know why we became an acoustic band?” He laughed and said, “We didn’t want to haul around amps.

“Why the Gourds?” I asked about the name.

“When we came to Austin we were the Picket Line Coyotes,” he replied. “There was some history associated with that, and we just decided it was time to change. Jimmy wanted us to be the Sun-Dried Diegos. I guess he wanted us to play happy hours at Central Market.

He had this little house we called The Steamy Bowl. A shack, really, but he lived there 10 years. Off the road, 200 bucks a month, nobody we could bother much. It was the classic band house. We played, we crashed, we slept on the floor. And he had this little sculpture in the front yard. Broken guitar, various junk. Between its legs was a butternut squash.” Russell shrugged.

“That seemed to be us. The Gourds.”

Russell’s dad worked for an oil company. They lived first in Beaumont, where an uncle used to play Willis Alan Ramsey’s legendary only record and long for the old days at Armadillo World Headquarters, and then his dad’s work moved them to suburban Houston, and then Shreveport.

“I was into Southern rock,” Russell said. “Anything Southern. Lynyrd Skynyrd was my favorite.” Then punk bands from Minneapolis and the West Coast caught his ear, and punk was somewhat the tenor of the Picket Line Coyotes. “We sort of got run out of Shreveport,” Russell said. “We were just playing music, and drawing crowds, but fraternity guys were getting drunk and tearing up joints. The owners blamed us. We were blackballed.”

The evolving band moved to Dallas, and then Austin. Smith was from the Dallas suburb Plano. Max Johnston, the third lead singer, had come down from Kentucky and played banjo and acoustic guitar and the violin, which he plays like a violin, not a fiddle. He has a fine song on the new album called TK [Editor's Note: Haunted].

Red-bearded Claude Bernard joined the band blowing on a hooter and bought his first accordion for 35 bucks at a flea market; he’s also the keyboard player. The original drummer was the immigrant Welshman Charlie Llewellin, now Texas Monthly’s new media director and the band’s favorite photographer. Keith Langford, the drummer they settled on, is Russell’s brother-in-law. He’d been playing heavy metal [Editor's Note: Punk] in San Antonio.

Russell had a day job in Austin’s popular independent Book People. He thought an appearance by the band might lighten up employees who wanted to air their grievances at work. The Gourds were initially an in-crowd discovery of people who frequented the bookstore. “Lots of women dancing together,” said Bernard. “Wild dancers. They whipped up the crowd in a way we couldn’t possibly manage.”

They played for crowds of 20 at the Chicago House, then moved up to the Hole in the Wall, across the street from the University of Texas campus and KLRU studios but still far removed from Austin City Limits. “Alt-country” was a rubric of the nineties that began as a fanzine of Uncle Tupelo. The Gourds were uncomfortable about being branded alternative anything and lumped into a yuppie stampede to bib overalls and old swimming holes, but they were Austin’s foremost beneficiary of alt-country.

The North Carolina independent Sugar Hill picked up the Gourds, but they paid their bills from their income on the road. The South by Southwest festival swirled around the Gourds in Austin, but Russell told me that if I’d come to Jovita’s I wouldn’t encounter anybody with plastic cards hanging around their necks. Smoke billowed back then, beers were handed back from a long line at the bar, and now and then a waitress would maneuver through the mass of bodies, holding a tray of enchiladas aloft.

The players were handing back and forth instruments that seemed to never need tuning, though the venue had problems; a clogged air conditioning duct poured a stream of water at their feet. “I think it’s gone beyond towels,” said Russell, blinking and thrown off stride. Smith walked over, spread his arms, and raised his face to the shower. The album they were pushing then was Cow Fish Fowl or Pig.

The title of the record was drawn from Smith's fanciful song about a vendor calling on William S. Burroughs, Henry Ford, Lee Harvey Oswald, and Muhammad Ali. Performing it, Langford was bearing down on his harmonica, Bernard hugging and swaying with his accordion, a chorus of voices singing genial nonsense, bop bop, bah dooh dah, bop bop. “My name is Jorge and I twist and I juke/ I roll into town on a wagon of fruit.”

The Gourds crowd presented a stunning array of young women. A blond whose face would fill up a movie screen looked at her boyfriend, raised her elbow with a grin of delight, and I watched them go swirling and stomping their heels in the ageless bacchanal.

The Gourds have come a long way since then. The banjo and harmonica have mostly receded from the mix, and they're plugged in now -- more often than his mandolin, Russell plays lead electric guitar in a style that echoes Lynyrd Skynyrd, the Allman Brothers, and other Southern rock bands that influenced him as a kid. "Most bands grow out of rock and roll when they get to be our age," Russell told me with a laugh. "We've done everything kind of backward."

One of the most impressive things about the Gourds is their longevity. They have persevered for 16 [Editor's Note: 17] years, getting better all the time, and they’ve done it in a once laid-back city where the cost of living has skyrocketed. Smith’s Steam Bowl shack and the $200 rent is a fading memory. They have mortgages now, and Smith told me, "Between us we have five daughters and seven sons.”

They rehearse now in an un-airconditioned former nursing home in South Austin; the room they utilize, once the kitchen, has no windows, much musicians' equipment, and a homey pleasant clutter -- one wall sports a bumper sticker that reads, "My honors student has a career in the service industry." They get started by 11 a.m. and work no later than 1:30, and then they scatter to pick up their kids after school.

They’ve got devoted followings all over the country now, and they've escaped the European touring routine that sustains but also traps so many Texas bands. They've got no roadies -- for roadies expect a living wage and tend to be temperamental wannabe musicians. The Gourds don't have the star routine down in which all the instruments are in tune, the sound system is thoroughly checked, and they walk out and hit the chords of the first big hit. Their music is too intricate for that, and they dress like what they are -- onetime hippies who are in their forties now.

They've been at this together since 1995 [Editor's Note: 1994] because they love and respect what they have going. And now they're no longer scuffling. After years of deserving it, the Gourds have hit the big time.

David Langford, the drummer's father, told me, "Keith grew up listening to our records of The Band, and that's how he plays the drums." Jimmy Smith flaps his elbows like The Band’s Rick Danko when he performs, but he's a better bass player. Danko played bass with a pick, as does Paul McCartney.

Smith has the thick muscular hands of a blues guitarist, fingers up on the frets, working the thick strings with a callused thumb below, and with Keith Langford's drumming that's one of the reasons their sound is so tight. Smith's voice is an untethered tenor, and he does sound a lot like Danko. The legacy of The Band and the Gourds’ inheritance is now inescapable.

Through the efforts of their manager Joe Priesnitz, who once represented Stevie Ray Vaughn, they signed a Vanguard contract overseen by executive Bill Bentley, an Austin expat who saw Willie Nelson first captivate an Austin crowd of hippies and anti-war militants assembled for the campaign of George McGovern in 1972, and for a while worked as a publicist for the multicultural rocker Doug Sahm.

Bentley engaged as the Gourds’ producer Larry Campbell, a gifted studio musician who has recorded with Willie, Sheryl Crow, Little Feat, K.D. Lang, Cyndi Lauper, and Levon Helm; he was a member of Bob Dylan's road band from 1997 to 2004. Early last spring, when there was still snow and ice on the ground in upstate New York, the Gourds arrived for a dose of Campbell's breathless style in Helm's storied Barn Studio in Woodstock.

"It really is a barn, but a real nice barn," Russell told me. "Levon lives in an upper story of it." Did the legendary drummer and singer of The Band take part in the sessions? "No, he wandered through every so often in his house shoes. He was very friendly, and wanted to take particular care of Keith. 'Do you need anything? Some water, a soda pop?' Seems to be some kind of voodoo with drummers.'"

Of course that's reasonable. In the late summer rehearsal I observed in Austin, Langford was the one who came out of that fire in the kitchen soaked in sweat.

As in past records, the smooth baritone Max Johnston contributes one of the best cuts on Old Mad Joy, the melodic rocker “Haunted.” But Jimmy Smith and Russell again claim most of the lead singing and writing credits. Smith slurs his lines more than Russell, and as a result his singing is not as accessible as his longtime partner's. And that’s a shame; in wordplay and jitterbug of thought that’s as offbeat as Kerouac, his writing is remarkable.

His great song on this record is “Marginalized.” It’s a paean to a painful subject in our culture, fully in view amid Austin’s stream of BMW convertibles and Escalade SUVs. The hero of this song is the one standing out in the heat beside a stoplight with a message of his life’s misfortune scrawled on a cardboard sign, counting his fortune by the bills and coins dropped in a tin can, pushing all he owns in a cart heisted from a grocery store.

But elevated by Russell’s mandolin and the backup harmonies, the sorrowful song manages to soar. “Well, I’m taking it home on my tectonic plate/ crashed in a pyramid and claimed squatters’ rights/ shared a coop with a fellow wouldn’t shut up about a girl named Isis/ had to blend with the tourists when they came in the a.m…”

Earlier this year, Russell released an album called Shinyribs that was an instant favorite in Austin, singing only his songs and bringing just Keith Langford from the Gourds in a studio band that included one of the cosmic cowboy survivors, Ray Wylie Hubbard (the writer of Jerry Jeff Walker’s “Up Against the Wall, Redneck Mother.”)

Russell said it didn’t mean he was splitting off from the Gourds. “With a band like this you have to make a lot of compromises. Everybody’s got material they’d like to get out there. I’ve got boxes full of songs that I’ve never done anything with. Shinyribs is a break that allows it to be just me, with a terrific other band besides.”

Russell’s rock and roll high point on Old Mad Joy concerns that dreaded gig of road musicians, a dive in nowhere with a vile crowd that brings out the complaint: “My heart is black but in my sack/ I got a sammich and half a pack/ of vitriol and self-abuse/ who can I call to accuse and abuse/ for bringing me to … Peppermint City!” He said there is no such place, but then they’ve played them by the dozens. He laughed when I told him I’d never before heard a rock song with the word “vitriol.”

He also offers “Two Sparrows,” a song about Jesus that he wrote years ago. “His innocence held such clarity, Gethsemane still on his breath/ barefoot and burdened unjustly but love never leaving his breast/ from this began my wandering, my punishment for the crime/ of standing still among an angry mob, all of them friends of mine.”

Vanguard is pushing a rocker called “I Want It So Bad” as the single, but the best of it is Russell’s “Eyes of a Child.” “It’s true I am wicked, it’s true I am mean/ I must have lost my way chasing a dream/ It’s true I’ve done things that I’m ashamed of/ But I still need tenderness and the warmth of love/ I’ve come clean and I’m redeemed/ since I have seen through the eyes of a child.”

All of this may not sound entirely joyous. But turn it up. It’s some of the best music since "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down."

A few refrains in this piece previously appeared in the 30th anniversary edition of Jan Reid’s The Improbable Rise of Redneck Rock.

[Jan Reid is an author and music historian and a writer-at-large for Texas Monthly, and his writing has also appeared in Esquire, GQ, Slate, and The New York Times. His books include Texas Tornado: The Life and Times of Doug Sahm, The Improbable Rise of Redneck Rock (considered the definitive tale of Austin music in the 1970's), the novel Comanche Sundown, and books about Tom DeLay and Karl Rove. His, memoir The Bullet Meant for Me, was the story of his mental, psychological, and emotional recovery from a brutal 1998 robbery and shooting in Mexico City -- and his sustaining friendship with the two-time world champion boxer Jesus Chavez. Reid is now writing a biography of former Texas Gov. Ann Richards.]

Travel + Leisure: Tips For Would-Be Road Warriors

© Charlie Llewellin

Beloved Austin Band The Gourds Dishes on BBQ Joints, Travel, and Its New Album
By Kristin Anderson
November 22, 2011

Austin’s roots rock veterans the Gourds are no strangers to the road. For seventeen years they’ve toured the U.S. and abroad with their sweet and spicy brand of southern country-blues-rock. With a new record out, Old Mad Joy, and a whopping nine other studio albums under their belt, the band shows no signs of slowing down. The Old Mad Joy tour takes the Texans from San Francisco to Philadelphia and dozens of towns in between. Frontman Kevin “Shinyribs” Russell calls the live show “kind of a cross between a revival, a house party, a pep rally and a pow wow.” We connected with the guys to ask about their time on tour and tips for would-be road warriors.

Q: You hail from Austin, which has been an indie hotbed for some time now (here’s looking at you, SXSW). Have you noticed a shift in the city’s music scene over the course of your careers?

A: Yes, the scene has been constantly changing for decades now. The biggest change has come from the economic boom of the last 15 years; dot com bubble/high tech expansion and real estate bubble. Also the focus of the city on encouraging downtown residential occupancy and a ridiculous sound ordinance has transformed live music into a migratory population in search of affordable leases and appropriate neighborhoods. The musicians and service workers sort of gravitate nearer to these places. So, lots of them are now in east Austin. The styles have become much more diverse and the talent level much more exceptional.



Q: When you’re on the road, are there particular towns you try to make sure you have a day off in?

A: Well not specifically. It is mostly determined by logistics and scheduling. Occasionally we will try to find some cabins in the woods or in the mountains and cook a big meal, share some down time together like a family. A brief respite from the grind like this can really recharge everybody and help us maintain some sanity in the tumult.

Q: Apart from playing, what do you do for fun on the road?
A: We really spend most of our time talking and laughing with each other. We all genuinely like each other, for the most part. Our sound engineer Mark Creaney is a really great guy. And we often bring a musical friend who travels with us and opens the shows. Other than that some of us escape into writing, computers, art, literature, beer etc.

Q: “Peppermint City,” one of the standout tracks from Old Mad Joy, is allegedly about one particularly divey venue you played somewhere. Can we hear a little more about that?

A: The bone-crushing indifference one meets with in some towns, at some venues resonates with every musician I know. But, this is not just a song about musicians. It is a song about any traveler anywhere. Sometimes one comes into a city that just feels ugly, brutal and wicked. When one feels such, one should get the hell out as soon as possible. There is sometimes an adolescent residual want to blame someone for a given situation. That song is mostly about that.

Q: Austin’s known for its barbecue—care to divulge your favorite joints?

A: The best BBQ in the city limits is probably Ruby’s. Not Rudy’s, which is not bad for a chain. Then I don’t know, there ain’t much else. I have heard about Franklins, but never made it over there. If I am gonna get some Q, then I am gonna go to Elgin (Southside or Meyers), Lockhart (Smitty’s or Kruez) or City Market in Luling. Milt’s in Kyle is great too. Opie’s in Spicewood is good. And it is just outside of a campground, Krause Springs. So you can bring great Q into the tent with you and gnaw on it all night around the fire.

Guest blogger Kristin Anderson is based in New York City and writes about music and travel.

The Gourds perform a track from their latest record, OLD MAD JOY, live on KUT Radio in Austin, Texas on August 31, 2011. The performance was shot for ALL THE LABOR, a documentary feature in-production about the band. For more info on the documentary, go here.

Photo by Charlie Llewellin; video courtesy of Vanguard Records, directed by Doug Hawes-Davis.

10-26-11 Portland, OR

Video: I Want it So Bad / interview with band / Drop What I'm Doing / Haunted / Your Benefit / Two Sparrows

The Gourds
101.9 KINK.FM
The Bing Lounge
1210 SW 6th Avenue
Portland, OR
10-26-11

01. I Want it So Bad
02. Drop What I'm Doing
03. Haunted
04. Your Benefit
05. Two Sparrows



Special thanks to Ray Y. and KINK.FM for the field report. If anyone has audio/video/photos from this show, please email TheGourdsNews.

Houston Press: The Gourds On Italian Sandwiches, Jaded Nashville And Life In A Van

The Gourds On Italian Sandwiches, Jaded Nashville And Life In A Van
By William Michael Smith
October 14, 2011

The Gourds, Austin's loosest and most literate roots band, rolls into Dan Electro's Guitar Bar tonight. The occasion is the release of the band's latest album, Old Mad Joy. Produced by Bob Dylan/Levon Helm sideman Larry Campbell, the album has been getting positive reviews across country.

The band has been on a month-long tour that found them showcasing the new album in Nashville Wednesday night during the opening of the Americana Music Association annual conference in a time slot right ahead of local hero Hayes Carll. We caught up with Gourds fiddler/banjoist Max Johnston and pianist Claude Bernard just as they arrived home from Nashville.

​Rocks Off: What is your favorite song on the new album?

Max Johnston: It changes, but right now I'd say "Your Benefit." And I'm really liking "Want It So Bad."

Claude Bernard: "Your Benefit."

RO: Can you think of a song that you were skeptical of that has grown on you?

MJ: "Melchert." When I first heard it I was like, 'what?' But I really enjoy Kevin's [Russell] guitar parts on that one.

CB: I've got three: "Ink and Grief," "Drop The Charges," and "Eyes of A Child." And I quite like all three of those now.

RO: Which song takes the most work on your part and why?

MJ: "Two Sparrows" definitely takes the most concentration on my part. I've got to be right there all the time. On the record, there are double fiddle parts and Larry Campbell played a lot of that in the studio. In fact, I said he should've been given a credit on that. But anyway, there are really intricate fiddle parts with a lot of potential for egregious sonic badness, so I've got to be thinking the whole time when we're doing that one.

CB: Again, "Ink and Grief." It's a groove thing, and I'm not the world's greatest piano player anyway. Sometimes I hear it differently than Keith [Langford, drummer] does. So I have to concentrate and hold myself in line.

RO: What was your favorite part of doing the record?

CB: The Italian and tuna sandwiches from this place that Larry Campbell showed us. And of course, just working with a total pro like Larry. We made up our tentative arrangements of the songs, working them up in this kitchenette thing we rented, and it was a lot of fun watching Larry sorta scratch his head and think something over and then go 'let's try this.' He's a genius.

RO: How much of the new album will be in the set list tonight?

MJ/CB: We've been starting with four or five new ones right out of the gate. And we'll probably play seven or eight of the new ones.

RO: You played Nashville last night. How was that?

MJ: I don't know if that was just a jaded crowd, like we've heard it all before, or if they were just there to see Hayes Carll and not us.

CB: We started with a bunch of our new ones and I don't think anyone got it or much liked it. Or else they weren't there to see us. Hayes Carll was on next.

RO: You guys have been riding in vans together since 1998. How do you stay sane and keep the band together?

MJ: Non-lethal weaponry. You've got to be completely malleable, you have to accept the fact you never get your way but you get enough of your way to make it work. And you also have to say to yourself this is our job and our families' livelihood, so you do what you have to do to make it work.

CB: One thing that helps is that Kevin and Keith will ride in a separate vehicle while Jimmy, Max and I pilot the party wagon. We're the late-nighters in the bunch, although not as much as we used to be. You have to have respect for each other, and I think that is something that has really grown within the band as we've gotten older. It's easy to forget you're an adult since we live in this kind of perpetually adolescent world of rock and roll. You have to step back once in a while and realize that we're all in our 40s now. Maturity is a big part of it. I think we've all learned to handle the problems and make things work. That's our job, you know?

Follow Rocks Off on Facebook and on Twitter @HPRocksOff.

© Houston Press

Hidden Track Interview: The Gourds

HT Interview: The Gourds
By Chad Berndston
October 13, 2011

I asked Kevin Russell, vocalist and lead guitarist for the Gourds, to describe the band’s new album, Old Mad Joy, as if addressing both someone who had never heard the Austin rockers before and someone who’s been in on the Gourds for years. Musicians are usually pretty bad with — and notoriously irritated by — requests to do such a thing, but I have to hand it to Russell: a few quick turns of phrase that nail what makes the Gourds such a terrific listen.

“Great mix of rock n roll and ballads expertly played by a seasoned Austin band whilst in a barn in Woodstock, NY, at the end of a long, cold, lonely winter,” said Russell, apparently without breaking a sweat.

And for the Gourds aficionados?
“Post-ironic, subversive classic rock.”

Bam.

Call them what you want — alt-country and folk-rock are two more commonly associated tags — but the point is the Gourds have been at this for a good long while, and been underappreciated almost as long, downplayed amid higher-profile, similar-sounding acts that have their own strengths, but execute rarely with as much aplomb. It’s hard to believe the band’s been on the job since 1994, harder to believe that Russell, bassist/vocalist Jimmy Smith, keyboardist Claude Bernard, drummer Keith Langford and multi-instrumentalist Max Johnston have been a solidified lineup since more or less 1998, and maybe hardest to believe, in this humble scribe’s opinion, that they’re still best known for a twangy re-imagining of Snoop Dogg’s Gin ‘n’ Juice — a still-called-for staple of Napster-era college dorm coolness, and for years credited to everyone from Blues Traveler to Ween thanks to over-circulated, badly-researched mp3s.

Asked if the Gourds are bothered that the Gin n Juice cover is still what most listeners associate with the band, Russell instead isolates what the problem is: the charm of a cover like that, by a band like this, is of a different era. He’s right; everyone and his brother does Kanye and Cee Lo covers these days, and shit, even String Cheese Incident has covered Nelly.

“I think it bothers me more when we are not given credit for it,” Russell said. “We are not playing it much anymore, though. It’s just such a stale concept now. When we did it, there were no white artists out there even thinking about reinterpreting rap music. There was still so much apprehension and fear of rap in most of the No Depression/Americana crowd. And frankly, there still is.”

Russell continued: “I am afraid, though, we created a whole genre of ironic covers. For that, I am sorry. I just wanted to be like Johnny Cash when he said he just played songs he loved no matter what style they were.”

More astute fans used Gin n Juice to discover the Gourds, indirectly or not. Hopefully, that’ll lead them to Old Mad Joy, the band’s 10th studio album and maybe its best, with more meat on its bones than previous Gourds albums and a nice balance of country quirk, raw rockers and prettier, singer-songwriter-type fare. Released in September, it was recorded at Levon Helm’s studio in Woodstock, NY, and has Larry Campbell in the producer’s chair.

“He was more gracious and welcoming than I ever thought he’d be,” Russel said. “A guy with his talent and experience could certainly approach the world in a very different way. But he chooses the path of mutual respect and graciousness.”

Campbell and the Gourds met through a mutual friend, Bill Bentley, an Austin-based A&R executive for Vanguard Records and formerly of Warner Bros. It’s the first time the Gourds have ever used an outside producer, which Russell said was because the band needed an “objective counterpoint.”

“We all came to work, not to sit around and talk about what we had done,” Russell said of Campbell and the band’s early meetings. “So there was the feeling that we were all in a collaborative moment. We wanted his input into the material and he was inspired by the challenge of it.” Campbell’s sense of arrangement and what Russell called a “perfect ear” helped the Gourds learn a lot, he said.

“He is a self-made man, who busted his ass for years and years to get where he is,” Russell said. “Much respect for the man, we have.”

As anyone who’s made the journey to Helm’s studio can attest, it’s an inspiring location, and the Gourds found it potent, he said. ”It is an ideal place to make music,” Russell said. “We were there in late March, so snow was still falling. For Texas guys living through one of the worst droughts on record, just being in a place where snow was falling had a magical effect on our mood.”

The band spent most of its time in Woodstock in a rented house, or at Helm’s barn, he recalled. ”Now, the barn is a big, open, wooden house with big windows letting the natural light spill all over the walls,” he said. “The split level between the cutting room and the control room gives it the right separation for recording sound, but doesn’t feel like two different rooms. The fireplace is a great mood maker as well. If one can imagine standing there playing a song as the noon light reflects off the snow outside, and the smokey essence of the smoldering fire mingles with coffee and tube amps. Oh my, it is such a great place.”

The Gourds have changed somewhat, Russell said, but he still writes songs with what he called a constant, “very joyous habit.”

“I am not as lazy a writer as I was before,” he said. “Ideas get worked through more meaningfully. I have become very interested in getting in right. I used to be very much a believer in not trying too hard, letting things come from the unconscious. Now, I think I am more in tune with those deeper parts of myself. I want to understand what certain images and ideas mean as they come crawling out of me.”

Not that maturity means the Gourds rock any less.

“I think now we are not trying so hard. We are capable of more subtlety and depth of emotion,” Russell said. “Though, we can rock harder now, too. We have become the immensely versatile combo that we have always been working towards. Now, if Bob Dylan would just call…”

Austin Chronicle: Dog Years - The Gourds' Family Values

© Charlie Llewellin

Dog Years - The Gourds' family values
By Margaret Moser
Fri., Sept. 23, 2011

In 17 years together, the Gourds have fielded everything the greater music business has thrown its way, short of that coveted million-seller or a Grammy. Then again, the local quintet of oddball personalities is little interested in the effort it takes to work a massive hit. If life's a tuxedo, the Gourds wear brown shoes.

"Brown shoes don't make it," claimed Frank Zappa, but he didn't live to meet the Gourds. Had he, Zappa might have glimpsed the same Big Pink potential Larry Campbell did. Produced by the onetime Bob Dylan sideman at Levon Helm Studios in Woodstock, New York, the Gourds' 10th studio album, Old Mad Joy, reflects both Campbell's belief in the band and that of its new label, respected roots indie Vanguard Records.

It's a good fit all around given that, as the Gourds roll toward the end of their second decade, they're ranked among Austin's perennial must-sees. With a documentary currently in the works, their legacy remains the living, breathing, old, weird Americana populated by hapless misfits and the ever-hopeful. Considering the landscape that cultivated this knotty hodgepodge of South­ern gothic musical everymen, loners, and survivors, the Gourds are rightfully branded as mavericks in a genre that demands authenticity and plainspoken truth.

Listen to the Band

The Gourds share their birth year, 1994, with a notable class of Austinites: Storyville, Don Walser's Pure Texas Band, Sincola, Ian Moore, Bad Livers, Pariah, and a young trio called Spoon. The original foursome of Kevin Russell, Jimmy Smith, Claude Ber­nard, and drummer Charlie Llewellin released its celebrated, Band-like debut, Dem's Good Beeble, three years later. Stadium Blitzer in 1998 served as a sophomore continuance, its non sequitur lyricism and gospel truths already claiming growing numbers of believers.

Both discs hooked the alt.country and roots-rock world, making the Gourds poster children for the post-Uncle Tupelo No Depression set. Keith Langford replaced Llewellin after Blitzer, having been amiably fired by the Gourds' sister band the Damna­tions. Max Johnston worked with Uncle Tupelo and Wilco and made the Gourds a quintet by 1999's Ghosts of Hallelujah, his array of instruments girding and enriching the band's sound. Just prior to that, sometime in 1998, came live EP Gogitchyer­shine­box, in which the group cracked open an off-the-cuff, kingdom-come version of Snoop Dogg's "Gin and Juice" that went viral before there was such a thing.

It was a particularly canny and oh-so-Gourdian thing for Russell to do, deconstructing Snoop Dogg's sexist, pro-drug rap into a nasal, mandolin-driven lope. It makes singing about dope-smoking and bitches as nonchalant as a dude riding in his "Escalade" or the retarded girl in "El Paso," a phrase that provoked ire from a local DJ who refused to play that opening cut from 2000's Sugar Hill Records debut, Bolsa de Agua.

The unintended popularity of "Gin and Juice" opened the Gourds to wider appreciation from an audience that valued literacy with a good beat. After their first label, doomed Austin indie Watermelon Records, went under amid legal squabbles, Bolsa de Aqua began a cozy relationship with Sugar Hill that lasted through 2002 with Cow Fish Fowl or Pig. Two LPs for Eleven Thirty Records (2004's Blood of the Ram and Heavy Ornamentals two years later) and a pair for Yep Roc (2007's Noble Creatures and 2009's Haymaker!) left the band with loads of indie label baggage, an endless repertoire of beloved material, and in dire need of a different production force.

Enter Larry Campbell, musical director of Levon Helm's Midnight Rambles Sessions, and Vanguard Records, as prestigious a label a neo-folk band could want. This spring produced the 12 tracks that became Old Mad Joy. For the band's rabid fans, it was the dream realized: Austin's version of the Band recording on the real Band's stomping grounds. Langford recalls snickering in the car with his sister at the sound of Rick Danko's singing.

"It's amazing how your parents' music can really sink in with you and emerge later," he chuckles. "A lot of our similarities are happenstance though, like the acoustic instruments, Jimmy's melodic bass, our Southern sound. I play traditional grip like Levon, et cetera.

"There are a lot of similarities, and I don't think anyone in our band doesn't like the Band, though Jimmy says he doesn't like 'Rag Mama Rag' too much.

"Has he lost his marbles?"

If the notion of recording in a barn sharing a common wall with the house of the Band's drummer and iconic vocalist Levon Helm seems like a cinematic moment, the meeting itself was anticlimatic.

"He wasn't too interested in the music," shrugs Russell. "But he did come around a couple times and say hi to everybody. Sweet old fella."

Helm didn't buy billboards declaring the Gourds the next big Band, and that's as it should be. The Gourds, after all, already boasted Doug Sahm as mentor before and after his 1999 death. That's the vibe more inherent to the Gourds, whose version of "Nuevo Laredo" stole the show on 2009 Sahm tribute Keep Your Soul. That Campbell was briefly a member of Sahm's Sir Douglas Quintet means the mojo was righteous for Old Mad Joy.

B-Sides & Deep Cuts

Whatever story its prolific studio output maintains, the Gourds are a different entity live. This is the arena where the artist-fan dynamic is deliriously successful, the lightning that can't be trapped in a bottle. The Gourds are a five-headed, shape-shifting beast awakened, roaring to life electric, proud, and armed and ready to display its chameleon colors and skin. The stage is home, where it thrives, fed and maintained by a remarkably devoted fan base (see "Life, Death, and Shoofly Pie," Sept. 13, 2002).

Amid suffocating August heat, the Gourds followed an afternoon sound check at the Nutty Brown Cafe, working over Jimmy Smith's "Tumblin' Dice"-like "Drop What I'm Doing" by ambling into the bar for a discussion on whether band years are equivalent to dog years. No question about it, came the consensus.

In a way, Johnston is the luckiest dog in the pack, able to do tricks with his instrument of choice. The son of "Dollar" Bill Johnston and brother of Michelle Shocked, Johnston's freewheeling solos light the band from within. Brimstone and ash spew from his fiddle and mandolin or whichever strings feel right, because the Gourds' instrumental makeup defines the band as much as the human personalities.

"[The instrument] I enjoy playing the most is different night to night," admits Johnston. "It depends on what I can hear the best in any given situation. If I can hear it, I can play it a lot better, which – surprise – makes it a lot more fun. If I had to pick one, it might be the banjo, but I can rarely hear that very well."

Bernard, who's played accordion with the Gourds since their inception when he's not keeping rhythm on acoustic guitar, also finds the choice of instruments worthy of discussion.

Accordion is "a very rewarding instrument to play because of its physicality. You squeeze notes out of it. My accordions get these big holes in the corners of the bellows, and that almost makes it more fun, though not really, because the air runs out faster and you have to squeeze it and pull it faster until the damn thing is pretty much shot.

"I think the more physically difficult an instrument is to play, the more I enjoy it."

As the five bandmates later make their way onstage to a sparse crowd, Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Fortunate Son" booms from the P.A. "Oooo, for the red, white, and blue," drawls Russell, leaning into the microphone to join Fogerty with his soulful East Texas twang. As the song fades out, Russell leads the band into "Lonesome, On'ry and Mean" then "I Want It So Bad," the first track on Old Mad Joy. That's the organic spontaneity that's kept the Gourds so beloved to their longtime fans while cultivating new ones.

"Old ones know how to read the show," explains Russell afterward. "They know the various modes and tones to look for. New fans are bubble-eyed with anticipation, thinking we will play everything they ever wanted and just like the record, maybe. Old ones wait for the seconds that define and spark. New ones can't wait. I think we take care of both."

Smith agrees, calling the old-timers "geezourds" hoping for "B-sides and deep cuts, while a newbie might want that Snoop cover thrill, hoping they didn't arrive to the ball too late."

At this end-of-summer show, only a few dozen diehards are out in force. Local Gourds appearances are legend, a roiling sea of sweaty humanity. If their usual performances are what Russell describes as a cross between "a revival, a house party, a pep rally, and a pow wow," tonight is what Langford flatly terms, "a dud gig."

For Smith, an off-gig is a chance "to flex some of the muscle I forget I have, like the way I feel after bowling. Most times, I come away from a gimpy gig with higher morale and some new moves, riffs, phrasing, because there was less inhibition and pressure to really stick it."

"If you're doing it right, nobody wants to leave to go to the bathroom," Langford jokes. "I think we do that on a good night. That's what Old Mad Joy means to me. Those nights where nobody wants to go to the bathroom, including me."

Through the Eyes of a Child

Seventeen years represents a substantial amount of time in any life – dog or human. In 1994, the Gourds were young and single. Now, all five are married and count 12 children among their respective broods, a change in life reflected in Russell's "Eyes of a Child" on Old Mad Joy. Whatever they've learned as a band, nothing beats the family values of parenting to keep adults in line.

"My wife and I cuss like sailors," acknowledges Smith. "It's easy to find yourself saying, 'Pick up the fucking toys' or 'Put the goddamn Star Wars game away.'"

The maturity of Old Mad Joy doesn't substantially surpass the previous recordings; it simply underscores the Stones-solid feel of bandmates who grew up together when they thought they were already grown. Russell's "Eyes of a Child" is in good company with his Band-worthy ballad "Two Sparrows" and Jimmy Smith's word whimsy in "Melchert" or "Drop the Charges." Johnston's "Haunted" features Campbell's pedal driving the song so beautifully it could be an instrumental. If anything, Old Mad Joy reinforces the separate-but-equal status between Russell and Smith, who do not write together.

Crucial to the Gourds' infrastructure is the way that having families handed the band a matrix for how to work together – a massive challenge for any group, but especially for one with dual frontmen. It's not exactly oil and water, Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, but different universes may be close.

"There's so much between us that we're like a mountain and a river," emails Russell. "In the beginning, before the Gourds, we were more like student and teacher. Then once we became presented as equals something broke. It was slowly and subtly peeled back, quietly filed down until the connection split apart. This was necessary. There was a period of grief and anger, which gave way to a silent truce, but now I think we are coming into a more mature partnership that benefits from each of our perspectives. And from time to time, like a volcano, we have a blowout that sort of renews the terrain between us.

"It's frustrating and challenging for all of us to live and work within a group of equals. I can't decide if this is a democracy or an anarchy. A little of both, I guess. One thing's for sure: It has taught us the value of compromise."

Smith is typically arcane in his assessment of not writing with Russell.

"I think there has to be a need for a co-write. With us, we always pulled enough tone, rhythm, melody, and enjoyment out of the walk-in individually. Then through the prep kitchen, lift it up to the line, hand it over to the front of the house, put it on the table with its legs sticking up, and measure it by the gratuity."

In other words, the two remain river deep, mountain high. Langford mediates with a Charlie Watts-like flourish.

"We don't disagree about creative stuff much," states the drummer. "We like to leave it nice and open-ended. If you push it too much, it squishes something equally as good or better that only happens in a free atmosphere. Most friction is over the external complexities of the band biz. Like, 'What gigs are we doing and when?,' 'Who's doing an interview?,' and, 'Do we go have dinner with some fans before the show?.' Real difficult stuff."

Or as Smith pithily observes, "All the real estate in betwixt is a musical experience that plays for keeps."

The Gourds throw a wingding for Old Mad Joy Friday, Sept. 23, at Threadgill's World Headquarters.

Copyright © 1981-2011 Austin Chronicle Corp. All rights reserved.

Levon Helm's Studio: A Tale From Keith Langford

© Joe Ryan

Davis McLarty Agency: Gourds new album out soon! Here is a tale from Keith Langford- about recording in Levon Helm's studio...

Keith Langford here from the Gourds in Austin, TX. I'm writing to tell about my recent experience recording at Levon Helm Studios in Woodstock, NY. AKA "the Barn."

The Gourds have been churning through the Americana music world since the early 90's with ten records under our belt. It's impossible to play in our genre and not have great appreciation for the Band and of course Levon Helm’s drumming and singing. We were extremely fortunate to have been able to record at Levon's studio, and to have his guitarist Larry Campbell as producer.

I grew up listening to the Band and Levon’s drumming. My father blasted that music throughout our maroon station wagon, where my sister and I giggled at Rick Danko's voice while rolling around in the back. My style has changed over the years, but it always kinda comes back to that Levon-like traditional zone: having a rhythm/beat with a purpose, listening for the song first, and dynamics that don't seem to end up on the overly loud side too often.

Levon and I both play a Gretch USA custom. For years I used my father’s 50's Gretch, but recently I bought a new one with an 18" kick. Levon uses the same kit but has a 20" and also a 22" option. When we recorded, I used both of his kicks and snare. Levon also has a pair of Ludwig toms (a gift from Ringo Starr) that Justin Guip (our brilliant engineer) suggested I set-up. It was a bit of a risk musically, employing those big fat-sounding toms within our musical scene, but they ended up working beautifully within the songs. These drums, coupled with coveted cymbals from my crazy Austin friend Travis [Garaffa], made for an interesting sounding kit.

The experience of recording in Woodstock and meeting one my drum heroes was beyond wonderful. I think Levon wanted to create a relaxed environment for studio creativity, taking the "phoniness" out of it as he's said. This is exactly what I experienced, and everyone in our band will remember that session for the rest of our lives.

Note: This piece was later published by Modern Drummer magazine. You can read that version by clicking here.

Larry Campbell Produces Gourds In Levon Helm's Barn

Larry Campbell Produces Gourds In Levon Helm's Barn
August 10, 2011

The drive from Austin to Woodstock is over 1,800 miles, but musically they are much closer together. The Gourds traversed that distance to record their new album ‘Old Mad Joy’ (September 13 / Vanguard Records) at Levon Helm Studios with producer Larry Campbell, marking their major label debut, their first album with an outside producer, and first to be recorded outside of their home state of Texas.

Campbell, a former Bob Dylan band member and current Levon Helm Band guitarist/producer and musical director of the Midnight Ramble with credits ranging from Roseanne Cash to Paul Simon, pushed the band hard. Drummer Keith Langford says, “Larry challenged us at every turn, trying songs and parts in different ways, really getting us out of our comfort zone and bringing the best out of us individually. He deconstructed what we’d done.”

“This record represents to me a brilliant artistic achievement that only scratches the surface of the raw talent in this band,” states Campbell.

Singer/guitarist Kevin Russell adds, “Larry just got so excited, and it was infectious. For a guy like him to act like that toward us is flattering and inspiring. He became Coach Campbell, rearranging the songs and challenging us to play things we didn’t think we could play. He was like a preacher up on his pulpit. He’d just be waving wildly with his eyes squinted closed, and he was literally conducting us. It was a magical time.”

Of the resulting album ‘Old Mad Joy,’ out September 13 on Vanguard Records, Langford says, “I really hear the sound of the barn in it.” In fact, Langford played Helm’s drums as well as a set of toms that were a gift to Levon from Ringo Starr.

The band lived together within biking distance of Levon Helm’s barn, cooking up massive quantities of beans and home made hot sauce each day, an experience that brought the band closer together. Once, the Texans even had to team up to shovel a batch of March snow.

The New York Times has called the Gourds “one of the best performing bands in America” while NPR.org has said, “Their clever (when intelligible) wordplay and responsive string play has inspired legions of ardent fans.”

© www.glidemagazine.com

Houston Press: Gourds Unleash Old Mad Joy On Unsuspecting Public

Gourds Unleash Old Mad Joy On Unsuspecting Public

By William Michael Smith
July 22, 2011

As an album title, Old Mad Joy sounds like redundancy when placed in the context of Austin roots rock gonzos The Gourds. As anyone who has ever been in earshot of the band or its records, if the Gourds could bottle the music and sell it at the drug store, the corporations who manufacture the endless supply of happy pills would all go out of business. It would probably put a serious dent in Viagra sales too.

With the album, produced by Bob Dylan/Levon Helm sideman Larry Campbell at Helm's legendary studio in Woodstock, New York, set to drop September 13 on the Vanguard label, the band is gearing up for heavy touring during the second half of the year after having what bassist Jimmy Smith describes as a relatively easy spring schedule that allowed for quite a bit of family time.

The Gourds, "Melchert"

The Gourds play a free show tonight at Miller Outdoor Theatre with Austin blues rocker Doyle Bramhall. Smith, who recently became a father again - three boys - emailed us his answers to our toughest questions.

​Rocks Off: Our first impression was how good/warm this album sounds. What are your thoughts on this one vs. others sonics-wise?

Jimmy Smith: The Helm facility is a 3-story barn with high ceilings and the spread-out wood surfaces which mellow the harsh frequencies. Also, the mics and a lot of the outboard gear are high-end vintage products which also help with the harsh digital tones. Along with two seasoned pros. Perfect storm.

RO: You guys all seem to have found some different voices this time. Is this producer-driven or is it something that just evolved naturally during the work?

JS: Larry really wanted a vocal-driven record. We all had a "go" at the backing vocals; the lead vocals were a mixed bag of over-dubs for accuracy and scratch vocals (original take vocals) for a live feel.

RO: Did you guys already have the song list finalized before you went up or was that still being worked out during the sessions?

JS: I had demo'd my material on my reel- to-reel tape deck and shot that out to Larry and the band. Then we worked the rest up in our funky rehearsal spot for three months. Once we got to the studio, Larry just unlocked the gates and let some of the uninvited hooks, riffs, and arrangements in.

RO: What did Campbell bring to the project that you guys feel like you hadn't had at any of your recording sessions before?

JS: We needed a dungeon master. It was almost like being a sideman on someone else's session at times. Stress and responsibilities were a little more evenly distributed.

RO: Pick two songs on the album that far exceeded your original expectations/vision going into the sessions? What is it that distinguishes them?

JS: "Melchert" and "Marginalized." Studio mojo, man, a good kicking in the pants, and a good pantry in the kitchen.

RO: What was your biggest thrill during the Woodstock trip?

JS: Seeing Levon's grinning face while we were cutting.

RO: You've all matured, got families and car payments and house payments now. How do you manage/juggle being in a band that travels hard and tending the home fires?

JS: Good spousing.

RO: If the Gourds are a democracy, who are the Republicans, who are the Democrats, and who are the Libertarians, who are al-Qaeda?

JS: Are those pizza toppings?

Follow Rocks Off on Facebook and on Twitter at @HPRocksOff.

© Houston Press

Preview 7-16-11 Maryville, TN

The Gourds rediscover that ‘Old Mad Joy’
that made them so good in the first place
By Steve Wildsmith
stevew@thedailytimes.com
July 13, 2011

“Old Mad Joy” is an appropriate title for the forthcoming album by Texas-based country-rockers The Gourds, given that the process of making the record allowed the band members to rediscover just why they love what they do.

It wasn’t that member Kevin Russell and his bandmates were on the verge of calling it quits before traveling to “The Barn,” the upstate New York studio owned by Levon Helm of The Band, to make the album. But after years of producing themselves and slogging through a sluggish music industry that didn’t leave room for a lot of luxury, they needed something to turn the corner, Russell told The Daily Times this week.

“For the last few record, we self-produced them, and that’s not easy to do politically, emotionally, logistically,” he said. “We were on deadlines and touring throughout the whole time we were recording, and we tended to get under each other’s skin a little bit — just a lot of typical band power struggles that go on like any working environment.

“Obviously, we’ve been together for a long time, and the odds are against being together for a long time. We’ve seen them come and go, all the flavors of the month; it’s a constant turnover of new bands, but we’ve done what we’ve done through it all. And it did feel like we were nearing the end of something for the last couple of years. It’s been a struggle, and we’ve done well, but everybody’s got kids, and it’s been logistically difficult to do what we do.”

Difficult as it might have been on the guys, they made it seem easy, as least to those fans who flocked to The Gourds’ brand of quirky style of music. The band first debuted in 1996 with “Dem’s Good Beeble,” quickly establishing themselves as a phenomenal live act, something Russell has described as “kind of a cross between a revival and a house party and a pep rally and a powwow.” The albums are solid, but they don’t do justice to seeing the band perform live, which is a little like a bunch of crazy uncles getting plastered at a family reunion and taking over the picnic table, playing fiddle with chicken bones and percussion by thumping watermelons.

The group found minor fame with a cover of rapper Snoop Dog’s “Gin and Juice,” released on the 1998 EP “gogitchershinebox,” and ever since, the guys have earned a reputation as the Primus of roots music — heavy on accordion flourishes and percussion and a washboard full of string instruments thrown into the mix. After releasing the album “Haymaker!” a few years ago, the band made the jump from the Yep Roc label to Vanguard, and in so doing chose to record at “The Barn” with long-time Bob Dylan sideman Larry Campbell.

Going in, Russell said, they didn’t know what to expect, but the relationship blossomed quickly.

“Sometimes, a producer can be hands-off — ‘You guys do what you do,’ and they’ll just sort of manage things,” Russell said. “What we found out is that he’s very hands-on. He has a lot of ideas, and he was really into it. The second day, Jimmy (Smith) had just finished doing the vocals on ‘Drop the Charges,’ and Larry just started laughing and laughing and saying, ‘I get it! I get you guys! This is great!’

“He just go so excited, and it was infectious. For a guy like him to act like that toward us is flattering and inspiring. He became Coach Campbell — he rearranged the songs and challenged us to play things we didn’t think we could play. The studio was like this two-story thing, and he was on a higher tier where the control room was, and he was like a preacher up on his pulpit. He’d just be waving wildly with his eyes squinted closed, and he really was literally conducting us.

“It was really a lot of fun,” Russell added. “It was an unforgettable experience for all of us, and we’ve had many conversations since about what a magical time it was.”

And, he added, the guys feel like they came away with the best album of their career. Russell’s enthusiasm is a reflection of the energy on the record — raw and intense while maintaining that lackadaisical vibe that makes The Gourds such a meandering musical tour de force, drifting from a languid melancholy ballad like “Two Sparrows” to a ragged “Exile on Main Street”-style rocker like “Drop What I’m Doing.”

“Larry up in his pulpit like that, it sort of united us,” Russell said. “We were suddenly a band again, and he was the guy directing us. It really united us as a team, and we hadn’t felt that in a long time just because of the nature of the beast. This record really does give us a much-needed boost of confidence and inspiration to go on for the next few years, to play these songs live and expand on them live.

“Given the music business today, who knows what’s going to happen. We’re pretty cynical, old, crotchety guys, so we don’t expect to sell a million records. But we are proud of the art, the craft of this record, and we’re elated that we created it.”

IF YOU GO: The Gourds
PERFORMING WITH: Tim Lee 3
WHEN: 8 p.m. Saturday, July 16
WHERE: “The Shed” at Smoky Mountain Harley-Davidson, 1820 W. Lamar Alexander Parkway, Maryville
HOW MUCH: $20
CALL: 977-1669

© 2011 The Daily Times

Preview 7-16-11 Maryville, TN

The Gourds Don't Mind Being Known
as the Band That Covered Snoop Dogg
By Matthew Everett
July 13, 2011

If an average music consumer knows anything about the Austin, Texas, band the Gourds, it’s that they’re the guys who recorded a twangy acoustic cover of Snoop Dogg’s laid-back SoCal gangsta anthem in the late 1990s. Never mind that the Gourds have been together for 17 years, that they have released nine albums of wry, intelligent country-rock in that time, or that they are now near-legends in the venerable music scene in their hometown—mention the Gourds, and odds are “Gin and Juice” will be the first thing anybody remembers. The association is impossible to ignore, even for journalists who like to think they’re above such obvious story hooks.

It turns out, though, that the members of the band don’t mind talking about the song, or playing it, even after more than a decade. The band has been able to turn its brief moment of early Internet celebrity into a long and respected career that actually pays the bills. At least people recognize the band’s name, even if it is for a novelty cover song. That’s the way the Gourds like to think about it.

“It’s just not that big of a drag,” says drummer Keith Langford. “Someone the other day told me, you know, it’s refreshing to hear somebody that plays their hit song. I kind of like that. There’s always a couple of people who, that’s really what they want to hear, and I don’t like for those people to go away unhappy.”

The band’s unusual and almost entirely acoustic lineup—guitar, bass, and drums, but also accordion, mandolin, steel guitar, fiddle, banjo, and harmonica—is part of what made “Gin and Juice” noteworthy in the first place. The Gourds’ recorded version of the song managed to sound a little like pre-World War II hot jazz and a little like Dr. Hook and the Medicine Show; in concert, as a number of YouTube clips attest, the song can be modified in countless ways.

“We really play with it unbelievably,” Langford says. “That’s become our thing, to let the guys go off on all kinds of tangents. It’s different every night, which makes it fun for everybody.”

But there is considerably more to the Gourds than “Gin and Juice.” The band’s combination of impeccable musicianship, loose arrangements, and traditional influences have earned the Gourds frequent comparison to the Band over the years, a connection made even more explicit on the upcoming Old Mad Joy, the band’s 10th album, scheduled for release in September on Vanguard Records. The new disc was produced by Larry Campbell, who plays guitar for Bob Dylan and in former Band drummer Levon Helm’s solo group, and was recorded at Helm’s studio in a barn in Woodstock, N.Y.

“He is, of course, a hero of mine,” Langford says of Helm. “He was very accommodating and nice and generous. It’s nice when you meet somebody you like and they’re not an asshole.”

On top of that, the recording process was much different in Woodstock. The Gourds had never had an outside producer—“The first two or three records we had somebody doing a producer-ish role, but this was full-blown,” Langford says—and Campbell pushed them in new directions. “We’re old dogs—it’s hard to teach us new tricks. But we found it very inspiring and fun. I think it sounds unreal good. I really hear the sound of the barn in it. We took our road sound guy with us, and he was saying that’s the whole deal with that room, you can hear it. And they were complete pros, and had the same style and tastes that we do, so it was a good marriage for me, for making good organic sounds.”

It’s about 1,800 miles from Austin to Woodstock—a long trip, but not as long as Langford’s trip with the Gourds. He joined the band after its second album, Stadium Blitzer, in 1998, after already having been a fan.

“I thought the Gourds was the best band in the world,” he says. “I always wanted to be in a band like the Gourds that was acoustic-driven, and singing being a big part of it. In Austin at the time, nobody had a banjo in their band. Now everybody’s got a banjo in their band, or an accordion. It wasn’t a career aspiration, it’s just musically it was the best fit for what I wanted to do. And really, we’ve been very lucky to have had some longevity, and we can all live the dream of being Austin musicians who can actually make a living.”

© 2011 MetroPulse. All rights reserved.

A Pressing Matter: One Question with K. Russell

TheGourdsNews: We've been getting lots of emails from fans asking about the new album....can you give us a quick update?

Kevin Russell: The record has been delivered to the Sony Manufacturing Plant and Vanguard World HQ. There will be vinyl pressed for this one as well.

Houston Press: Gourds Drummer Lives The Dream At Levon Helm's Studio

Gourds Drummer Lives The Dream At Levon Helm's Studio

By William Michael Smith
April 12, 2011

Hanging out with the Band's legendary drummer Levon Helm would be a dream for almost any other timekeeper. The Gourds have just returned to Austin from two weeks of recording at Helm's studio in Woodstock, N.Y, where drummer Keith Langford got to live the dream.

The untitled album, the follow-up to last year's Haymaker!, is now being mixed and wlll be released in mid-September. Lonesome, Onry and Mean caught up with Langford as he waited outside his son's school.

Lonesome Onry and Mean: What was it like hanging out with Levon Helm?

Keith Langford: He was just a super-cool host. He wasn't around all that much, but he did come in. Like a good host, he wants you to be happy and comfortable.

LOM: Describe your first meeting.

KL: It's been such a dream to meet him, he's really my drummer hero, so all the time we were planning this trip I kept thinking what will I say to him if I get to meet him. But we were in the studio and he just came in - he'd been to New York City for a cancer check-up that day - and he walked over and shook hands and said, "You need a drink" in that voice of his. I'll never forget that. Pretty cool.

And he'd gotten this great report that day. If he'd gotten a bad report, it would've changed the vibe of the whole project. But he'd gotten a good report and the place was just kinda buzzing with this great vibe because of it. We couldn't have begun on a higher note.

LOM: I assume you didn't take your drum kit up.

KL: No, that was another huge thrill, I got to play his drums. And Ringo Starr had given him some toms, so we set those up and I got to do the sessions with this combo of Levon's and Ringo's drums. Imagine.

LOM: What was it like working with [longtime Bob Dylan sideman] Larry Campbell as a producer?

KL: That guy worked our asses off. I'm serious, by the end of the day we were just exhausted. He had so many ideas, and let's face it, we're a pretty lazy bunch of guys. But Larry was with us all the time and it was a magical experience working with a guy that smart and motivated. He really did right by us.

He wanted to step aside and let everybody do what they wanted to do. But he truly loves to play, so every once in a while he'd say, 'hey, I'm just gonna do this little acoustic thing right here,' stuff like that. And he's such a killer steel player, we wanted him to do some steel parts. Overall, he's just this very loose, highly musical guy.

​LOM: Rumor has it that you are doing way more singing on this album than

on any other Gourds record.

KL: Another dream come true. I aspire to sing but I'm the worst singer in the band, so it was just amazing when I'd hear Larry call out, 'Keith get down here, we need you to do this part.' And I'd be like 'Holy shit, I can't believe he's calling my name.'

There are going to be lots of harmonies on this one. You know, we started out with lots of harmonies but as we got older and lazier we kinda drifted away from that. Larry pulled us back to that, and I think with good result. Of course, now we have to work out butts off to get ready to do all this stuff live.

LOM: Any songs from the new one that are already standing out for you?

KL: Oh, yeah. There's one of Jimmy's [bassist Jimmy Smith] I love called "For Your Benefit" that sounds like the James Gang. And Kevin [Russell] has a great new one called "Sparrows" that turned out so grand and big, a long, cool musical journey really.

LOM: What was your overall impression of the trip and the project?

KL: We played good, we all got along pretty well, so I'd just say it was fun and we had a real good time. We'll end up going up there to do one of Levon's Midnight Ramble shows eventually.

LOM: So did you stay at Levon's place or a motel?

KL: We got hooked up with Bob Clearmountain, who's a pretty significant record producer himself, and he has a rental house about five miles from studio. So we stayed there and cooked and grilled, we'd ride mountain bikes to the studio.

It was very conducive to being creative and to recharging our batteries each night, because we'd be mentally exhausted by the time we got to the house. It was a great place to drink beer and chill out.

The Gourds return to Houston June 23 at Dosey Doe in The Woodlands and July 22 at Miller Outdoor Theatre with Doyle Bramhall Sr.

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© Houston Press

Preview 3-09-11 Austin, TX

L to R: Don LaSala, Jimmy Smith, Claude Bernard,
and Swampy Pat in the basement

Editor's note: The following paragraph was taken from a more complete preview of The Austin Chronicle Music Anthology book release party. Click here to read the rest of that article.

With the assistance of a smartphone, the Gourds routed their 2008 [sic] East Coast tour to visit the Big Pink, Bob Dylan's New York hideout for The Basement Tapes and the inspiration behind the Band's Music From Big Pink. Later this month, the locals take up residence at Levon Helm's barn studio in Woodstock, N.Y., to record a debut for Vanguard Records, produced by longtime Dylan sideman Larry Campbell. "It does seem like a calling, to be up there in the vicinity of all this good music we have in common," says co-leader Jimmy Smith. "This is probably the most attention we're ever going to get."

Vintage Gourds: Feb. 28, 1997

photograph by Shelley Rutledge

Immediate and Timeless
The Gourds
Fri., Feb. 28, 1997

A Gourds show is a joyful event, an exorcism of angst, a tall cold one and a smoky tree; "It's a bone white smile of a night." For those who know and see them regularly, their holy hoedowns are a grounding mechanism, a necessary component of life which, once taken away, can make the addicted pretty damn ornery. But when they're in town, hot damn! There's gonna be some foot stompin'!

Over the past year or so, interest in the Gourds has begun to soar. Besides releasing their debut CD, Dem's Good Beeble, their local gigs have been getting bigger and the tours lengthier. The band spent most of January and February on a tour of Europe that started with the MIDEM Conference in Cannes. Then, within weeks of returning home, they'll play a South by Southwest showcase with the Damnations, Kelly Willis, and the Jayhawks that's sure to pack Stubb's to the rafters. The exponential increase in attention being laid upon alt-country music indicates that the time is right for them, but do they really fall into this ambiguous and ever-growing genre?

According to Kevin Russell, who, along with Jimmy Smith, is the group's main vocalist and songwriter, "That depends on who you ask. We're very malleable... we use a lot of different styles. [In Europe] we're depicted as alternative country -- we've been called a `No Depression band' in some of the papers, probably because they get that magazine and that's what they have to relate to.

"It also depends on who's doin' the asking," continues Russell. "On the way over [to Europe], the airport security guy asked me what kind of music we played, and I said `country' because I figured he'd relate to that. But if he'd have asked Jimmy he would have been told `rock & roll.' Jimmy doesn't want to admit that he plays country, I think, but he does. That's what I play. When I'm playing the music I'm thinking that way, you know? And I think I'm just as valid a country music writer and performer as anyone."

The reserved confidence of the band is well-founded. The songwriting of both Smith and Russell is immediate and timeless; the songs feel like they've been played for decades in all remote and guitar-laden corners of Appalachia, only never quite this well. Likewise, the lyrics are simultaneously evocative of the country/bluegrass/folk traditions they push forward as well as sarcastically indicative of contemporary rock and country.

Songs like "Trampled by the Sun" with its chorus of whoops and hollers and "The Web" with its slow sing-a-long build-up and subsidence are aural roller-coasters that'll convert even the most country-jaded rock fan. You can't help but yee-haw along with 'em. Charlie Llewellin's rolling and spasmodic drumming and brushing combined with Claude Bernard's steady accordion and harmonies make the perfect setting for the dueling hickisms of Smith and Russell. With some people you just know it'd be a hell of a good time to sit around listening to old records and burn one down -- and these guys fit that bill. Good nature and hospitality exudes from any stage they occupy and, if the crowd responds, they'd just as soon play forever.

Alongside the musical talent and the solid songs, the Gourds seem to be fully aware of their place in the modern sound-time continuum. Both Smith and Russell are former members of the Picket Line Coyotes, a truly DIY punk rock outfit that made the journey from Louisiana to Texas, eventually landing and disbanding in Austin where, with Bernard and Llewellin, the Gourds were born. The implications of the switch from punk to country are not lost on them, either. Indeed, it seems a natural thing that, when a musician's focus turns more to the craft of songwriting, the music tends to calm down a bit; just ask Paul Westerberg or Jay Farrar. And while the Gourds continue to pound out a steady stream of inspired live shows, the intricacy and immediate familiarity of their songs -- as well as the sheer number of them -- is proof enough of their dedication to the craft.

"I've been writing songs since I was 14," says Russell. "That's all I've ever really done, all I want to do. Jimmy, too. I write mine and Jimmy writes his and then we bring them to the band and do the arrangements. We've been wanting to collaborate more, we just haven't. It's always been a hole-up alone thing."

In addition to the wealth of originals, them Gourds ain't opposed to the occasional cover. Neil Young's "Barstool Blues" is one they worked up the last time in Europe, a backwoods Stones/Beatles medley/jam has surfaced at the Hole, and Bill Monroe has seen his share of tributary stage time. But perhaps the most infamous of these is a rompin' take of Snoop Dogg's "Gin and Juice." When asked if this tune has vanished from the repertoire, Russell laughs.

"No, I think we're still doing it," he says. "The song was sort of a problem within the band for a while. I originally did it solo at Waterloo Ice House and the guys loved it. When we played it as a band for a larger crowd, we saw a certain reaction; it'd be taken as a novelty song, which isn't all bad, but that wasn't what it's about. I got the arrangement together because I love Snoop, I love that song. Now, though, I'm trying to make a point that, yeah, this big dumb white guy is playing rap -- black music -- but that's what happens. I mean, Jimmie Rodgers? Hell, Elvis, the Beatles, they were white guys playing black music. Me doing `Gin and Juice' is an extreme example, but it's a perfect modern version of the same thing."

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