A crude country style comes to Corvallis
Nathalie Weinstein
I don't know about you, but I'm so tired of popular music I could die. Every girl-jean-wearing, bleating, A-line-sporting glam rock band out there makes me want to move to a deserted island where the only music is the sound of coconuts banging in the breeze.
Unfortunately, with my student budget, I can only get about as far as Eugene on Greyhound. It's times like these when we need to look back a few decades to find music that warms the soul instead of assaulting the eardrums.
Scotland Barr and the Slow Drags is not your typical rock band. For one thing, their lead singer's vocal chords sound as if they were marinated in a gravy of whiskey and chewing tobacco. For another, they have created their own unique brand of alt-country rock, a genre that has been overlooked as of late in favor of trendy hipsters.
"We're not making seventies schlock rock," said Scotland, the lead vocalist. "We don't wear tight jeans. All the hipster magazines won't touch us. We're not 'Top 40.' If you listen to Wilco, you get an alt-country feel, but they just skimmed the surface of it. We've grabbed it by the roots."
The Slow Drags started off as a studio project that later materialized into a band. Taking in their music is like dragging on a Clint Eastwood hand-rolled cigarette at the bar of a dangerous saloon.
Barr sings of abusive relationships and living on minimum wage. Unlike the faux alt-country bands of today, he has lived the hard life he sings so candidly about. He cites dark bars and strange towns as his musical influences. He alludes to literary giants like Steinbeck in his lyrics.
Rather than traditional storytelling, Barr offers impressions of dark nights, lonely places and flashes of love affairs gone awry. "A song is like a CliffsNotes of a book," said Barr. "It doesn't tell you all about it, but it grabs the feeling and condenses it."
At times, he is reminiscent of Dylan circa Nashville Skyline, such as on the song "Legionnaires Disease." "Sun Years" recalls early Beatles with its bright vocals and peppy clapping. "1000 Roads" puts out a lit cigarette on your heart with its tale of mad love and tragic loss.
Bored of the hardcore/pop punk scene here in Corvallis? Head down to AJ's tonight at 9 p.m., order a whiskey and see Scotland Barr and the Slow Drags perform the country of yesterday. James Sasser and The Diplomats will open.
I had the pleasure of chatting with Scotland about old country, Sasquatches, and getting thrown in jail. Enjoy.
Diversions: How would you describe your sound?
Scotland Barr: Alt-country Americana. We're inspired by that. Our roots are in old country and old folk.
D: Who are your influences?
SB: Definitely vintage folk and country. Hank Williams, Merle Haggard, Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, Neil Young, Bob Dylan, Elvis Costello. My music background is LA punk. It's a mix of every thing. We try to tie it all in.
D: What do you want people to feel when they hear your music?
SB: I think that what I try to do is not tell a story but kinda capture a specific time, place and feeling. It can be rather vague but I won't record a song unless I capture exactly a person time or event. I hope the audience gets the emotion, if not the exact meaning. I like them to feel as intense as I did when I wrote it. There's not one song I have where I'm not moved to an emotion. We convey a piece of ourselves somewhere and attempt to be immortal.
D: What do you think about when you're onstage?
SB: The last time we played I was hoping this drunk girl that was slamming my head into my mike wasn't going to spill beer on my equipment. I think about the song, the people the song is about, the place. Just trying to be as in depth into the music as possible. I think about how the crowd is reacting, why the bass player is playing the wrong song.
D: What was the worst show you ever played?
SB: In Portland, we had a bunch of new people. At the venue, they had a big beam right in the center of the stage, a four-by-four. The drummer was behind it so no one could hear the other instruments. We played a whole set where no one knew what each other was playing. We sounded like a Pink Floyd cover band or something. It didn't lead to violence or arrests though, so that's good.
D: Have you acquired any crazed fans/groupies?
SB: This last show, yes. We have a great song about it called "Drunk Girl, Get Off Our Backs." It's about our last show in Spokane. She kept smashing the mike into my face. I've played in a lot of different bands. I've been pretty lucky. That was the worst. I'm sure she cleaned up later though, wiped the puke off of her shoes.
D: What's one urge you get but never act upon?
SB: Bestiality. Probably just to drop everything and split. I can't say I haven't acted upon that, but not recently. Just jump on a plane to Australia. Can't say I haven't tried that. Last time, I ended up in Roseburg (Douglas) county jail. That was a bad week.
D: If you could see any band live, dead or alive, who would it be?
SB: Jimi Hendrix would be a good one. I'd have to say Johnny Cash. Like around Folsom Prison or San Quentin. Just make sure Merle Haggard is in the audience. He was there. I'd also like to see The Doors, The Beatles and Hank Williams.
D: If you could be any mythical creature, what would you be?
SB: I don't want to be a dragon. They always have to hide. A Sasquatch. That'd be cool.
D: What really irritates you?
SB: Contemporary pop music. Nashville country. I remember listening to a song called "Billy's Got His Beer Goggles On." How does that make the radio? That irritates me. Big SUVs irritate me. I'm irritated about pretty much everything.
D: What makes you really happy?
SB: Playing music. Traveling. Warm puppies. Hot cocoa. Any form of liquor.
D: What was the last book you read?
SB: This going is to sound horribly existential: Camus, "A Happy Death."
Nathalie Weinstein, Diversions editor
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