Confirmed performers shown below, all performers subject to change without notice.
All bios by Will K. Shilling
Roughly 40 years after the "official" break up of their band, a group of
legendary, some say infamous, bluegrass aficionados reformed last year at
San Diego's 30th Annual Roots Festival. They were the namesake frontman
and several original members, respectively, Chris Hillman and The Scottsville
Squirrel Barkers, our co-Lifetime Achievement Award honorees for the 2004
San Diego Music Awards. While the group's umbrella title may seem obscure
to most pop music fans, the origins of the band and its' lineup were always
wrapped in enigmas of music industry-myth. In fact, one of the most visible
- and legend-cementing - fans of the Squirrel Barkers, was country
hippie-folk-rocker Gram Parsons (who would later form the Flying Burrito
Brothers with Hillman). When Parsons praised an album recorded in 1963
he wasn't concerned with the time it took, but the timelessness of the
artists and their intuitive, infectious playing. Often at break-neck
speed, the pickin' and a'singin' of the band's pre-newgrass hoedowns
was impressive and welcoming to even the most inexperienced music fans
- and can serve today as precursor to another, more popular bluegrass
act from San Diego, Nickel Creek. Over the years, the legend has quietly
grown, as its members moved on to critical and popular acclaim in other,
more high profile, acts; while the quality of that initial recording
remains, and serves to honor a group with various lineups, all of which
we've enlisted an original group member - Ed Douglas - to help sort out for us:
"Scottsville Squirrel Barkers consisted of five members in the '60s: Gary Carr, Kenny Wertz, Larry Murray, Chris Hillman and Ed Douglas. The driving force of the SSB was Gary Carr & Kenny Wertz; Larry Murray sang harmony & fronted the band; Ed played the bass; and an 18 year old kid named Chris Hillman played the mandolin. All were talented and skilled." Douglas also updated us on the group's whereabouts: "Gary died in Oregon; Chris went on to become Chris Hillman; Larry went to L.A. and worked as a songwriter and TV comic writer; Kenny Wertz still plays bluegrass and has his own band locally, 117 West; Ed has always owned guitar shops and still does: The Double Eagle on Adams Avenue in Normal Heights." |
When Clint Eastwood was directing "Bird," a film biopic of the legendary
bebop savant Charlie Parker, it was necessary to hire a saxophonist to
play some of the parts not taken from Bird's records. Eastwood hired
Charles McPherson, 2004's San Diego Music Awards Lifetime
Achievement recipient. McPherson has been called a Bird devotee,
disciple and replicant, in both complimentary and derisive ways, but his
achievements have meant so much more to bebop disciples and jazz lovers
over the course of 35 years as a dependable, lyrically-toned and
uniquely talented jazz linguist in his own right. Beginning in the 1950s
Detroit scene, a young McPherson found another legendary figure to learn
from in 1959, when he moved to New York and was quickly collaborating
with Charles Mingus. McPherson, along with good friend Lonnie Hillyer,
became a regular in his band during one of the iconic bassist-composer's
most prolific, innovative periods. By the time McPherson became a
full-time band leader of his own in 1972, he had toured and played with
the cream of a popular figures during an artistic heyday - and eventual
public twilight - for modern jazz. As styles and mainstream attention
waned with the advent of rock and roll, McPherson has persevered, even
thrived, both in critical circles - where his credentials would be more
hindrance than help - and with the ever-hard-to-please modern jazz fan.
Since adopting San Diego as his home in 1978, McPherson has continued to
grace both the local music community and jazz as a form with his
tireless devotion to authentic innovation, stylistic honesty and,
sometimes using son Chuck on drums during hometown performances, a
commitment to musical family values. |
Not a "band" in the traditional sense, the Album Leaf is, rather,
the musical talents and moody, minimalist expressions of one Jimmy LaValle,
a San Diego native whose project recently released made its Subpop records
debut. You may remember Subpop as the label most visibly responsible for the
early 1990's Northwest Grunge Supernova named Nirvana. But, as
opposite sonically as Saint Cobain's scream on pitch neo-punk
is from LaValle's quiet, groovy, lyrics-missing but lyrically
melodious syntho-pop, the two actually share more than just a record
label. LaValle's shy, self-deprecating demeanor and unassuming
stature serve to increase the enigmatic "buzz" around him in a decidedly
Cobain-ish manner - and his sensitive nature is evidenced by his
almost universal popularity among local, often cynical musicians.
LaValle's dedication to the minimalism of, say, what a more
pop-leaning Phillip Glass might have sounded like should serve him
well as he attempts to take his truly alternative compositions to the
masses without killing their underground spirit. The Patron Saint of
Subpop would certainly wish Lavalle and Album Leaf well on their venture.
And if the Cobain references weren't hint enough, would calling
the Album Leaf probably the next big Portishead be better? |
When a local writer played snippets of "Late for a Date with a Pile of
Atoms in the Water Closet," a 45-second song from this local art-noise
band's latest album, "Plague Soundscape" (Anti-), the reactions were
anything but homogenous. The Locust can polarize a party like no other
band in town, and possibly like no one in independent rock as a genre
these days. If you love the concept of "noise terrorism" as music briefly
described as , say, shards of musically adept anti-chords colliding and
reconnecting with no real structure, raining upon the inner ear in waves
of feedback and distortion, like the sound of pure surrealism and rhythmic
hedonism launched into the stratosphere by scream on pitch vocals and an
enigmatic, anthropomorphic stage presence - well, the Locust are gonna be
your messianic saviors - and a long, frustrating career awaits you as
either an avant-garde artist, indie record label owner or a, ahem, local
writer. But if you're not into challenging sounds, whether they be
lyrical, musical or, in the case of the ever-changing Locust, brutally
literal, then you may want to get out the ear plugs and cover the kids'
eyes for this year's performance. Either way, it's sure to be memorable
for anyone who appreciates the spirit of music as pure artistic experience. |
Between the ages of four and ten, A.J. Croce was gradually
regaining vision in his left eye, which had been lost as the result of a
tumor. With a blend of touched talent and salt-of-the-earth style, that
kind of quiet dignity - befitting his famous father, Jim - has done A.J.
and his San Diego family proud from the beginning. His music, a quirkily
pretty mix - something like Ben Folds meets Randy Newman backstage with
the Clash - has evolved beyond his father's shadow for good in the past
decade. Other national and local artists, such as Steve Poltz, are vying
to sing along with the motley young man's imaginative mix. Croce
recently released his fifth album, which was, it turns out, heavily
collaborated on with kindred spirit Poltz. |
Blessed with killer pipes and painfully perfect cheekbones, it's hard to
believe Tristan Prettyman when she pitches her complaints about
an uncool past and zero relative musical experience. Because the stars
are basically aligning for the Del Mar native and former Roxy model who
still surfs with the family at Swami's. A former tour mate of Jason
Mraz, featured in Surfer a magazine article before even one local rag
had written her up, co-songwriter of a new song with recent tourmate G.
Love - and all of this just a few years after the early twenty-something
guitarist learned her first chords form surfer-filmmaker-soft rocker
Jack Johnson. "Softly Before I Scream" - her internet message board - is
named after one of her songs. Take heed, before the self-described "gal
in corduroy" turns in her wetsuit and flip flops for a juicy suit cameo
in a Jewel video... or not. Her first record is the self-produced "Love
EP." |
Scarlet Symphony originally formed in 2000, but it would still be sort
of redundant to predict that this band is going to be big: The towering
quartet is as intimidating physically as musically. All four of the
band's members-twin brothers Zach and Josh Wheeler on bass and drums,
respectively, guitarist-vocalist Aaron Swanton and front man Gary
Hankins-are about the size of your average high school basketball
player. So their teamwork onstage is especially engaging - a mix of
heavy rock, hardcore post-punk and emo. All-ages club owners and indie
rock joints alike have been ravaged by the group's chaotic,
uncompromising live shows; while major labels have already been
sniffing around the development-deal backdoor. For now, Scarlet remain
on the local, alterna-rock scene campus in San Diego. But one listen to
their formidable set this year - their first at the San Diego Music
Awards - should be enough to prompt talent scouts to pick them high in
any upcoming draft. |
 Deep Rooted featuring Mr. Brady & Johaz -
Reminiscent of old school masters Tribe Called Quest and Freestyle
Fellowship, this meeting of local hop-heads boasts two of the most
independent-minded MCs in the county, and was years of dues-paying
and ill-rhyme saying in the making. And though it's hard to make
sense of their relative anonymity amongst the established local
industry, once you catch the collective onstage or laying it down
on wax, you'll know why they're picked to perform. One of them,
Johaz, is a San Diego native who's built a rep as a reluctant
battle MC. Another, Mr. Brady, is a travel-worn veteran of not
only local break dance culture, but of hip hop mecca Vancouver's
burgeoning boho-rap scene. Representing a sorely under-stocked
and underfed local hip hop set, this year's performance at the
San Diego Music Awards by the free-flowing, ultra-hyped mic
checkers is sure to get at least some of the San Diego scenesters
off their feet, if for no other reason than this: live
beats-to-the-rhyme is a style long overdue for a share
of the local spotlight. |
