Michael Kentoff is one of my favorite songwriters and The Caribbean (and Townies before them) are an undying love of mine. Plain and simple.

Actually, the thing that I adore about them is that they are neither plain nor simple. Constructing songs full of insanely catchy hooks and then burying them under compositions that always take the turn least expected (but do so with out adding cheap tools like bombast or production tricks) and wrap them around lyrics that read like true poems. Not the sappy rhyme variety either. These are songs akin to complex, microcosmic conversations. Listening in is like having the amazingly rare occurrence where the dinner banter next to you is enchanting and engaging rather than an annoyance. You feel like you are talking to someone and you both know that they the smarter half of the conversation - yet neither of you care to point it out; You just revel in getting to know one another.

We had the good fortune to get to know The Caribbean a little better via Mr. Kentoff. Take a listen and read on for some background to the beauty:

This is a real book. Presumably, anyway. Read Lillian Hellman’s introduction to “The Big Knockover” by Dashiell Hammett. Therein you’ll find the following sentence:

The interests of the day would go into the nights when he would read Bees, Their Vision and Language or German Gun Makers of the 18th Century or something on how to tie knots, or inland birds, and then leave such a book for another book on whatever he had decided to learn.

First, it’s an interesting title. Second, Lillian Hellman + Dashiell Hammett = how cool. Third – and really to the point – it highlights how wonderful it is when one form of art is informed by another form of art or another world altogether. What better way to celebrate this glorious union than to write a song about the study of bee experiments? Don Campbell & I did handclaps while our friend John Davis of Georgie James did the soulful I-Threes style vocals in this and the prior song.

Oh yeah: the tortuous process of composition. This song might be Exhibit A. It was born in 2002 or 3 when Don, Matt Byars, and I were the touring concern. We LOVED the chorus, but the verses were pure run o’ the mill candy-floss. We played the song for a few rehearsals and lost interest. I think Matt said, “[i]f y’all can ever come up with a good verse, it’s an amazing song.” [OK: he didn’t say “y’all.”] I agreed, knowing that every verse I had tried made my eyes bleed. Perhaps it was the bizarro Joni Mitchell tuning [D-A-E-G-D-F#], but nothing was working. I tried for months. Nothing: bad followed by worse. Finally, like the professionals we are, we gave up. A couple of years passed. Piqued (by boredom), I took the dusty old failure out of the file drawer in 2006 and BLAMMO! had a verse I really liked within an hour. Making this song perhaps a bit trickier was my initial intention to use it to express an observation of the uniquely American custom of embracing tragedy from the point of view of the victim. I am sometimes made a little uncomfortable by the nationwide wailings of WE ARE COLUMBINE or WE ARE VIRGINIA TECH or TODAY, WE ARE ALL NEW YORKERS, irrespective of the heartfelt intentions behind such statements. It has always struck me as a little disingenuous and very creepy to say to someone “I feel your pain” rather than “You’re in pain, how can I help?” That’s sort of what this song is about. That and being an alienated American Jew. Thanks to Don for urging and pestering the group not to let this song disappear into the ether. Melissa Quinley of Soccer Team provides the harmonies in the chorus – a sweet brainstorm by our sound magnifier Chad Clark. “I think Melissa Quinley would be great in this chorus,” said he. He was right.

Another song based on the title of a book. “Stockhausen Serves Imperialism” is a book-long essay by English composer Cornelius Cardew, who made a sterling reputation in the avant-garde (for a spell working as an assistant to Karlheinz Stockhausen in the late 1950s) before turning against the same when he became an active and vocal member of the Communist Party of England. “Stockhausen Serves Imperialism” was published in 1974 and contained his rationale for switching from avant-garde composition – which he characterized as elitist – to more folk based writing. He said:

I’m convinced that when a group of people get together and sing The Internationale this is a more complex, more subtle, stronger and more musical experience than the whole of the avant-garde put together.

Cardew’s populist music is actually very personal music and well worth seeking out. He was killed by an unknown hit-and-run driver near his London home in 1981; the bridge of the song provides some intrigue that may or may not actually exist behind his death. I’m not sure if I read or made up that no skid tracks were visible near his body, but it remains a provocative image, CSI-style, of a purposeful hit. Inconvenient people get taken out sometimes, so it fit with the song’s tenor [he is clearly being monitored by someone]. “Stockhausen Serves Imperialism” was my initial vote for the album’s title, but it was uniformly rejected by pretty much everyone. I guess I can see that.

Come see the band in action Monday, September 22nd at the Black Cat.
Early start with an 8 o’clock door and The Jet Age opens things up.

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