Metro Pulse/Music/Eye on the Scene

Local CD Review

Liftoff
ten ten p.m.

Since they'll be playing at Macleods, I expected Liftoff to be one of those tedious hippie jam bands. Their new disc is called ten ten p.m. And what an odd time to pick for a title. It may be nice enough, but it's not terribly dramatic. It's when you either start to wind down for the night, or just start to get going on a long night of revelry, but things rarely ever happen at 10:10. You don't even really know yet if anything's going to happen when it's 10:10 p.m. Which may be the point Liftoff is trying to make with all this. As it says on the card Emma received with the CD, "at ten ten p.m. the soundwaves switch from sonic to supersonic." Needless to say, Emma did not have high hopes. She imagined, as she said, one of those tedious little hippie jam bands, dripping with new-agey idiocy. Thankfully, she got a little more. Liftoff is, well, space-y. Drifty. Psychedelic.

Liftoff is clearly working off the psychedelic jam groove laid down in the '60s, but what distinguishes them from (and saves them from becoming), say, a Leftover Salmon or String Cheese Incident is their chaos. Liftoff—led by a Mr. Tim Raygun—is more Jimi Hendrix minus the guitar playing brilliance. By that, I mean that these boys aren't afraid to let their songs teeter on the brink of chaos. There's also a grittiness and glee in their sound that is refreshing to hear. Electronic gizmos and odd instrumentation abound, but they're mostly used to good effect, adding textures, not merely sustaining a rhythm.

The lyrics are passable, but don't expect any deep inspirations or clever phrases. Sample: "Don't hold me down/ I'm off the ground for good/ And my ears ring with simple things in bloom."

Unfortunately, the band too often gives up on actual songcraft and settles instead for piano elegies and David Gilmour-esque guitar jams that aren't particularly inspired or good. However, these indulgences can be forgiven—for three reasons: it's miles better than your typical hippie groove crap; it's dreamy good fun listening to Liftoff; and Mr. Raygun is clearly talented, and with a little maturity might easily produce some beautiful stuff.

Plus, Emma believes in nurturing the bands she reviews, unlike her predecessor, the vile Mr. McDuff. Perhaps its that motherly instinct she can never suppress.

Old School Treasure

Fiddler and mandolinist Howard Armstrong, a.k.a. "Louie Bluie," was a Knoxville street musician in the '20s who made his first recording at the old St. James Hotel near Market Square in 1930. He became a fixture on the Chicago blues scene in the '30s. Then he moved to Hawaii. Even if he'd been killed in the bombing of Pearl Harbor, we'd still be talking about him. But he wasn't, and with his old compadres Carl Martin and Ted Bogan made a series of recordings and tours in the '70s, popularizing an influential but near-forgotten form of music, the black blues/jazz/pop/country string band. Armstrong was the subject of a 1984 documentary by maverick filmmaker Terry Zwigoff.

Well, Martin and Bogan died long ago, but Armstrong, maybe the only man in the world who does what he does, is still lively and limber at 91, playing mandolin and fiddle, as he'll demonstrate next Saturday with a show at the Laurel Theatre. (Call 522-5851 for tickets.)

It'll be the climax of a whole weekend of sentimental journeys in and around his childhood home of LaFollette. He'll be signing CDs at Tunes To Go (and if you've never gotten Howard Armstrong's autograph, it's not like any other in your collection) at 4 p.m.; later, some of his old neighbors will be roasting him at a banquet at the LaFollette Church of God on Friday night at 7 p.m. (call 423-566-7269 for $8 reservations).

Armstrong, who now lives in Boston, was here for the unveiling of the Old City music mural back in June, but it's been many years since he's played a show in his old stomping grounds.

Another Austin/Knoxville Connection

A reader sent us a recent Austin Chronicle of a young guitarist and songwriter who's been turning some heads in that town full of honky tonks. His name's Roger Wallace, and his 1999 album, Hillbilly Heights (Texas Roundup Records) has earned international praise. Anyway, in the article, Wallace describes Knoxville, which happens to be his hometown. He describes it a "cool place," singling out the Old City: "Six or seven clubs, live music going on all the time...There's a lot of history, lots of historic buildings and such, excellent players, but nobody to give a shit. Nashville couldn't care less about Knoxville, or anything else for that matter." Wallace moved to Austin in '94, in the footsteps of an older acquaintance, rockabilly king Preston Rumbaugh.

Go.

Thursday: The Atomic Cafeat Tomato Head. The Head has decided to start showing films and the series will be kicked off by this little offbeat wonder about how The Bomb changed the world forever.

Friday: Laestrygonians at Jackson Avenue Antiques, produced by Actor's Co-op. Funny name. Great play about the nature of theater and families and desire.

Saturday: Dry Branch Fire Squad at Laurel Theatre. Bluegrass the way it should be played.

Sunday: CC String Band at Barley's. A year from now you'll be kicking yourself for not seeing this folky, rocky, bluesy, ragtimey group for free.

Monday: Ida with Old Ironsides at Tomato Head. Folk-pop from NYC.

Tuesday: Tarentel with Color Field at Tomato Head. Yeah, you're seeing a lot of T-head shows this week. They're having a spate of good stuff right now. And Color Field has the local music intelligentsia all abuzz.

Wednesday: Tommy Emmanuel at Bijou Theatre. TE and his guitar are fresh off the closing ceremonies at that little wing-ding we call the Olympics. If it's good enough for the world...

—Emma "Decline of the Service Sector" Poptart