Day 1 in the Studio

A decade after calling it quits, North Carolina trio Ben Folds Five will be reuniting for a brand new album reportedly due for release in the Spring. Consequence of Sound points out that Ben Folds confirmed the news yesterday on his Twitter account, tweeting a photo of the band in the studio with the words “It’s happening fo sho – Day 1 in studio with Robert and Darren through March. #NewBenFoldsFiveRecord”. After a fan asked when the record would be released, Folds replied with “Spring release.”

The guys had previously gotten together to work on a few new tunes on Folds’ 3-disc retrospective The Best Imitation Of Myself: A Retrospective (1995-2011). Check out one of the tracks below.

Ben Folds Five Tour Dates
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Ben Folds Five News

Full review below photo gallery!

Motion and emotion were the operative words for the Monday kick-off to Jam Cruise 10. The sense of something special afoot began at Port Everglades, where it felt like many currents flowed to this one buzzing spot, friends literally squealing with delight as they reconnected with a tribe that grows and grows, a depth of feeling that defies simple explanation but so tangible that even the many first timers coming aboard vibed heavily with the seasoned Repeat Offenders. To call the participants in this experience welcoming is an understatement, open arms and broad smiles making newcomers an immediate part of this evolving dream. And the feeling of massive camaraderie prevailed in the pre-boarding area inside the port hall where the musicians, Cloud 9 Adventures staff and various journalists and photographers gathered a space with more collective talent than almost any other this writer has ever seen. Look left and George Porter Jr. is grinning huge as he laughs with Steve Kimock or Lettuce’s Nigel Hall embraces Ivan Neville, the musicians as delighted as anyone to be here. One of the more charming aspects of the several hours wait was seeing seasoned veterans quietly geek out as they caught sight of JC 10 artist-at-large John Oates, most like myself too shy to just walk up to the worldwide star, though needlessly since Oates is one of the most enthsiastic, approachable new additions to the musical mix who’s excitement about getting his hands into this free-form convocation is clear. Which makes sense since Jam Cruise provides a happy crucible for musicians, particularly for the top-of-their-game players and gifted up-and-comers that provide the score for this journey. Listen closely in that waiting room and one picked up on the joyful plotting and brainstorming for musical moments ahead, and the sense of excitement about their craft in this unique was apparent.

Just after sundown, the Cloud 9 staff and a huge crowd on the pool deck toasted this lovely dream, and with a funky strut the Dirty Dozen Brass Band took us out on the water under a big, bright moon. Every act that followed long through the night took the same approach, lunging out of the gate at the start of each set with ferocity and purposeful intention that made folks snap to attention with a quickness, no time wasted as they showed off their best stuff and kept showing it off until their time onstage ended, almost always leaving one quite satisfied and yet still hungry for more. There are no mediocre musicians on this trip, and a healthy sense of competition makes each act strive to be their most memorable, innovative, etc. Everyone wants their slice of time to be THE most memorable, and the intensity of it all made the engaged, grooving masses feel a touched overwhelmed in a wholly positive way. People wore expressions that said, This is the first day? Seriously? as the music makers strived to take us and themselves higher, deeper, further, happier, etc. The intertwined audience/performer dynamic is perhaps stronger here than any other festival I’ve ever attended. As the lights came up at set’s end, one usually encountered a sweaty, surprised glow on everyone’s face whether they were onstage or on the floor.

As per norm, the spirit of New Orleans and more broadly, The Drum in the archytypal sense permeated the music, caught up in the enveloping warmth of Bruce Hornsby & The Noisemakers‘ pool deck performance (which included a bang-up piano sit-in from Ivan Neville, who seemed to bring out the playful side of Hornsby), the classicaly grounded yet progressive, psychedelia-touched surprise set from Lettuce (who filled in for a missing Shpongle), the airtight Apollo Theatre style revue thrust of Trombone Shorty & Orleans Avenue (who have one of the best young lead guitarists out there right now), or in the colossally swinging 7 Walkers set, which showed there are new things that can be done with the New Orleans rhythm tradition, the combination of Bill Kreutzmann‘s flowing, energetic drumming and George Porter Jr.’s inquisitive, foundational bass so satisfying it made one smack their lips, especially on a downright holy “Lovelight” that featured guests Col. Bruce Hampton, Anders Osborne and Big Sam that had people dancing madly, hands to the sky like a revival meeting. This pervasive sense of rhythm ‘n’ flow extended to the twisting, how-the-hell-did-they-do-that three hour performance from Umphrey’s McGee, who once again reminded us what a truly unique group they are, weaving classical music, electric jazz and more with a real understanding of what makes classic rock so goddamn satisfying. Simply put, no one else sounds like these guys or is likely to pull off even a reasonable facsimile of what they do.

As usual, a choose-your-own-adventure vibe prevailed as the night drew on, some drawn to Matt Butler‘s suprise filled Jam Room hosting session, where musicians were grabbing each other to listen to what was going down, others pulled towards the monster good foot stomp of Karl Denson’s Tiny Universe theatre set, and others still captured by the crunchy newness and hip-hop bounce of Break Science with guest MC Chali 2na in the charmingly garish Zebra Lounge, the sort of room Scarface surely had in his Miami digs. And before the wee wee hours, one might have caught Robert Walter on the clear top atrium piano showing off his boogie woogie skills or getting avant-jazzy with Galactic‘s Stanton Moore on a snare drum and Karl D barking like a man who’s heard a few Albert Ayler records. Or perhaps you were drawn to the appealingly busy groove of The Heavy Pets, who mixed up muscular rock, catchy pop, and prog/jam band elements into a really nice package.

There’s no one pathway on this ship, and sometimes the best moments occurred when people slowed down to have a deep, revealing conversation or just watch the open water expand endlessly around us. Options abound and perhaps the core of it all is how aware of the unfolding moment one becomes once that anchor rises. We are here. We are happy. We have just begun.

Yeah, along came Mr. Goodtrips
Looking for a new a ship
Come on, people better climb on board
Come on, baby, now we’re going home

Pool Deck on Jam Cruise 9 by Dave Vann

A full year has passed since Jam Cruise 9 docked in Ft. Lauderdale, FL, and not a week has gone by that the good times, deep conversations and stupendous music hasnt cropped up at least a few times. And I know with absolute certainty that Im not alone in my nigh-endless poetic waxing over what happens at Jam Cruise, along with the certainty that friends and acquaintances who havent attended are a tad sick of hearing about it. Forgive us, pals and loved ones. It is rarer all the time in this 21st century world that we come across an EXPERIENCE that handily and gloriously exceeds expectations so spectacularly. To not sing about it would cheapen how dear and impactful sailing with this ship of wonderful fools is. Its a blast of beauty and invigorating intensity at the cusp of the New Year that carries us through until the next time the anchor lifts, the gigantic horn bellows, and the uncut funk ignites the gathered throng on the pool deck once again.

Your Scribe Preparing For Jam Cruise 10

At the center of it all is music, sweet music, flowing in every corridor and cranny of the ship. If it isnt actual instruments being plied or voices raised in song its conversations about the tour life, the past years concert highlights or impassioned arguments about the merits (and demerits) of bands. It is the molecular bond that unites the performers and passengers into a single, undulating organ of sound as the hours and days of this once-in-a-lifetime-every-time excursion pile up. Sure, one can keep this heady mojo at bay, refusing to give into the swirling gravity that begs one to simply give into their unreasonable love of all things musical. Ive seen it happen in my two sailings, where someone sits on deck and just cant bring themselves to shimmy in the conga line, so to speak. Hell, Ive been there myself the first year I climbed aboard (2009), uncertain if I was welcome to this party thats been in progress for close to a decade now. Trust me, ALL are welcome and the reality of that starts at the port long before we launch, where cocktails are mixed for total strangers as masks are pulled out for modeling purposes and the collective scheming begins towards the end goal of having the time of our lives. Come alone or come with landlubber friends, it matters not. No one is alone here if they dont want to be. We are all joyfully in this together, laughing and hugging and connecting in ways that surprise one, especially if one isnt used to this sort of unity (or perhaps like myself, a bit punk-ishly dubious of such touchy-feely stuff by nature).

Its this last aspect that lies at the heart of Jam Cruises longevity and success. The music always top-notch and bloated with surprises and unique combinations of genres and sounds would be enough for most, but there is something palpably and exhilaratingly MORE to this gathering. Its a glimpse of humans sharing what they have with each other with a smile and an open hand. It is people breaking bread and enjoying conversation instead of hustling every waking minute. It is moments of sublime repose with a soundtrack that lives inside one long after were back on dry land. It is, to paraphrase a Federico Garcia Lorca poem, hearts of silk filled with lights, lost bells, lilies and bees, and a chance to throw on a feathered cap and joust playfully with wooden swords, the children of old inside us born anew on the high seas, lost boys and girls at play as mad (talented) pipers capture our attentions with tunes merry and deep. (Dennis Cook)

Daily coverage with photos from the MSC Poesia begins on JamBase starting Tuesday, January 10th. Check back all week for updates on this years festivities.

Your Scribe At Safety Gathering on Jam Cruise 9 by Chad Smith

Phish :: 12.29.11-12.30.11 :: Madison Square Garden :: New York, NY

Phish – 12-29-11- Photo by Dave Vann Phish 2011

Depending on your perspective, Phish either took over midtown Manhattan for their 2011 holiday run at Madison Square Garden, or were barely even noticed by commuters descending beneath the venue to Penn Station. Though the band has been playing the world’s most famous venue since 1994, it still strikes me how the lot scene is completely absorbed by the streets outside the venue, which appear only moderately busier because of the band’s presence. This year’s frigid temperatures sent everyone inside nice and early for the second of the four sold out shows.

It’s always a bit disorienting entering the flow of a special stand-alone run like this one on the second night, but everyone I spoke with had positive things to say about night one, and a general air of gratitude billowed through the crowd that the band was even able to schedule these dates amongst a short family oriented hiatus. My concerns over whether the band would be rusty and unrehearsed were temporarily put at bay by the metrically challenging “Sloth” opener, which like the “You Enjoy Myself” that followed, was executed near perfectly and took me completely off guard. I can’t remember ever seeing “YEM” placed so early in a show and it came across as an undeniable statement of confidence. The room erupted and even accommodated the strange feeling of hearing an a cappella vocal jam before some people had settled into their seats.

As if to temper any expectations that this would be a night of unpredictable left turns (as the recently released ’97 box set was fresh on everyone’s minds), Trey slid right into an expected but crackling “Back on the Train”. This version, though, also included a valiant effort at a brief free form jam when Mike abandoned the blues chord change and instead rested on the one. “Moma Dance” and “Funky Bitch”, both heavily played last Summer Tour, still worked well because they allow this era of Phish to indulge in their essential strength of grooving while tempting tastefully the outer edges of melodic interplay. Page really stepped up his B-3 solo on “Funky Bitch” and was happily cranked in the PA, which sounded both crisp and warm all night. The rest of the set wrapped up unremarkably but with great panache. A typically dark and climactic “Maze” and a fully pumped “Antelope” brought the first set to a crashing conclusion.

Phish – 12-29-11- Photo by Dave Vann Phish 2011

The second set began with great promise as the band leaned into the Talking Head’s “Crosseyed and Painless”, but after only a few minutes of future funk, bled seamlessly into “Simple”. The jam out of “Simple” featured some beautifully cascading runs from Trey before the whole band began dissolving in a more pointilistic direction. I think it’s safe to say no one called “Lifeboy” (the gauzy acoustic ballad from Hoist) next, but I was fascinated by the choice and eager to see how it went down. Well, this was New York City after all, so predictably the band lost some folks to the beer lines, and frankly, to my ears the tune could have used a few more run-throughs in soundcheck. “Lifeboy” also illustrated one of my recurring frustrations with some Phish songs where the piece feels like it’s so close to working on a profound level but one line or odd musical choice derails its chances of joining some elusive outside pop music pantheon. For me, on this evening, the line “You don’t get a refund if you overpray” was the stumbling block that distracted me from the otherwise gorgeous cadence of the chorus and the brilliantly understated guitar figure that runs underneath the intro and turnaround sections. However, the band deserves much admiration for continuing to mine its back catalog for left field material.

“Guyute” came next, and though heralded as one of Trey’s last great Fugue-inspired pieces, is still a very divisive tune that did little to reignite the room. “Mike’s Song”, of course, did just that, and also included the second biggest surprise of the night when, after a searing jam, instead of “Hydrogen” the band slid into “Chalkdust Torture” as if they had discussed it backstage (Who knows? Stranger things have happened). Trey created quite a challenge for himself in how to return to “I Am Hydrogen” at the breakneck clip of “Chalkdust”, but pulled it off with the rest of the band gamely falling into place. An incendiary, generously jammed “Weekapaug Groove” followed, featuring more than a few tantalizing plateaus of piano and guitar interplay. This thick and involving section of the second set is what lingered as the sold out room slowly exited and tried to pace itself for the next two nights at MSG.

Phish – 12-30-11- Photo by Dave Vann Phish 2011

December 30 has achieved a folkloric importance in the jam band universe as the night to see in an end of the year run, a theory that has its roots in the Grateful Dead’s mostly left coast series of shows at the Kaiser Auditorium or, later, the Oakland Coliseum. The idea is that the band is warmed up from the previous night or two of shows but not yet exhausted, over-partied, or overwhelmed by the ballyhoo of New Year’s Eve. The energy inside Phish’s penultimate show of 2011 indicated this theory is alive and well. With expectations running unfairly high, the band delivered a maddeningly inconsistent show that contained truly beautiful and innovative explorations amidst some rough or seemingly uninspired patches.

Things got off to a snappy start when Trey counted off “Punch You in the Eye” with his thick, flange drenched tone. Though not stop-on-a-dime perfect, I’m always blown away that the band considers this tune a good way to warm up! Trey then slid into a completely unexpected “Prince Caspian”, which like the previous night’s “You Enjoy Myself,” has rarely occupied such an early set position. The move was partially successful. On the one hand, I felt very deeply that this choice was an indication that Trey wanted to make this a special night, as “Caspian” has always seemed to me to be a song about Phish music itself as much as anything else. On the other, tempo-wise, the room was thrown from fifth gear into second quite abruptly. I thought it ended up working well, as the band was fresh and committed. After droning for a few seconds at the song’s conclusion, Fishman played that fluttering snare intro to “Backwards Down the Number Line,” which felt like a new, old friend entering the room that I hadn’t thought about in a while. “Number Line” reached a nice, simmering, first set boil with just the right amount of good natured, gurgling Trey lines. A very intriguing three song beginning that could probably only result from not planning.

Phish – 12-30-11- Photo by Dave Vann Phish 2011

The bluegrass ditty “Nellie Kane”, though flawless, reminded me that I don’t feel a great need to hear Phish play bluegrass anymore. At one time, one of the most novel genre surprises of the jam scene, it has been so co-opted as to be clich. “Divided Sky” continued what was shaping up to be a very diverse set, and was pretty much note-perfect. As many times as I have heard this song, there are still passages that can stir tears and the now-traditional long silence in the heart of the tune always feels like an opportunity for the whole audience to come together. The band played every passage like they meant it. “Sand”, though one of the juiciest funk grooves Phish ever devised, seemed premature at this point in the set, like it had been chosen in haste as sometimes happens when there is no setlist. And the jam itself suffered as a result, never really achieving liftoff, but instead remaining a crunchy rock excursion. “Vultures”, a classic Phish prog-oddity, seemed like a bit of red meat tossed to the confused crowd who were beginning to wilt under the expectations of so much eclecticism. But with its few obvious flubs, even it didn’t achieve the hoped for result. Trey instantly took off into a brisk “Rift” that suffered from the rust of months off the road. Playing such a demanding tune without rehearsal is either hubris or an unfortunate aspect of Phish’s dedicated improvisational ethic. Following “Rift” with “Joy” didn’t improve the situation. “Joy” is a well intentioned, heartfelt song about unexpected loss and living life fully, but so out of the vocal range of both Trey and Page, and also under-rehearsed, that all of its power seemed deflated. Not surprisingly, the set closing “Quinn the Eskimo” had the desired galvanizing effect on the room, with its easy groove and multiple reference points, from Dylan to the Dead to the many Phish versions of years past. It also set up the rest of the night for possible transcendence, though the vibe was decidedly unsure.

Phish – 12-30-11- Photo by Dave Vann Phish 2011

Though Phish has successfully resisted the categorization of their repertoire into stifling first and second set categories, there are still some songs that to me belong earlier in the show, and some that should be broken out later in the night. So, when Trey busted into that familiar crunchy E chord of “Wilson” and then followed that with a very confused “Axilla,” wherein half the band didn’t appear to know what key they were in, my heart sank a bit. Even the beginning of “Piper”, a tune I really think should be reserved for especially inspired evenings, did little to assuage my anxiety, as Trey rushed the vocal entrance and then quickly reached for the low hanging fruit of all the rock riffage at his disposal. But a cool breeze came over the proceedings and the whole band suddenly began listening to one another in a much deeper way. A fractured, dark funk groove with amphetamine tom rolls and moist synth washes emerged and became the launching pad for 10 or so minutes of fascinating, roiling weirdness. Trey began playing thematically, enabling Mike to compliment his repeated lines, until a minimalist tangle was achieved, suggesting Reich and King Crimson as only Phish can. As things began to settle, Trey let loose cries that seemed part bird, part anguished dog; a true cooperative improvisation from which a slinky “Twist” emerged. A newly inspired Trey played his sexiest, snakiest leads of the night, and the whole band seemed newly minted, given a fresh set of capabilities to finish off the show.

After “Julius” and “Golgi Apparatus”, two more songs that, though well played, seemed somehow to be crashing a party in progress, the crowd exhaled with a joyous “2001″. Looking around me, I could feel that beautiful symbiotic relationship between the band and the inhabitants of this round room start to flourish. It wasn’t a “2001″ for the ages, but I would argue it was unique in its warmth. In either case, it was definitely the right choice to begin to tell the story of the last part of this show. A “David Bowie” that provided all one could ask for in terms of execution and dissonance fueled jamming appeared to end the set. Then, suprisingly,Trey began “Squirming Coil”, not because the show needed one more tune – in fact it seemed almost tacked on at the time – but because he wanted Page to wrap up the night with his lovely piano interlude. A generous and rocking two song/two cover encore of “Boogie on Reggae Woman” and “Good Times Bad Times” concluded what could only be called another diverse and generous show from the only musicians playing at this scale who continue to risk so much.

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