Jonatha Brooke is one of those artists whose name always sounds familiar - if only because, really, how many people named “Jonatha” do you know? - but whose music you may not be familiar with…though, frankly, you really should be. She’s a talented singer-songwriter who first got her career rolling in the early ’90s as a member of a duo called The Story, with collaborator Jennifer Kimball, but Brooke soon stood on her own two feet and has trotted out album after album … some on major labels, some on indies … to critical acclaim and a decidedly diehard following. Popdose had the opportunity to speak with Brooke, and we took full advantage of it, asking her about as much of her back catalog as time allowed, quizzing her about how she recently came to collaborate with the late Woody Guthrie (and whether she could even concentrate with the awareness of what Billy Bragg and Wilco had already done with the man’s lyrics), and wondering where she stands on the state of the music industry today.

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The Grays - Ro Sham Bo (1994)
purchase this album (Amazon)

You’ve known this was coming since last week, when I promised an album from the great lost power-pop group of the ’90s. (Well, most of you did, anyway. I’m not sure what the person who guessed “Damn Yankees” was thinking.)

If you’ve never heard of the Grays, well, you’re in pretty much the same boat as everyone else; despite a stellar pedigree, a generous helping of Epic-assisted buzz, and no shortage of fawning from critics and pop nerds all over the planet, Ro Sham Bo was a commercial nonstarter.

There were good reasons for this. First, and probably most importantly, the guys who made up the Grays — Jason Falkner, Jon Brion, Buddy Judge, and Dan McCarroll — were, and had always been, out of step with commercial trends. Falkner was a member of the Three O’Clock and Jellyfish, and Brion had done time with ‘Til Tuesday (not to mention session work for — surprise! — Jellyfish), which should tell you everything you need to know about their luck as recording artists.

There was also the problem of being in a band in the first place — specifically, that all four members professed to hate it. Falkner, for one, had vowed never to join another band after leaving Jellyfish. Still, the quartet went into Ro Sham Bo with the best of intentions, seeking to avoid any ego-dug pitfalls by dividing songwriting and performing duties more or less evenly. Epic, meanwhile, was doubtless hoping that the sales sum of the band would be more than its parts.

Snake eyes on both rolls, obviously. (more…)

I don’t wait by the phone like I used to
I don’t hope for kind words you might say
You don’t prey on my mind like you used to
But you can still ruin my day

I’ve always been amazed, amused and, ultimately, saddened by the importance of perception in our romantic interludes. In the span of days, or minutes (as the case may be), one can go from floating on air, dropping their guard completely, and falling head over heels for someone to being sickened by the sight of them.

It isn’t that the person who once caused our heart to skip a beat each time we saw them has changed, mind you, but that our perception of them has. We’ve all probably been on the receiving end of such changes in perception and, truth be told, it would be disheartening to know what minor detail brought about such a dramatic change in perception.

In one such instance, a friend of mine who’d been unreachable for the past couple weeks, caught up in the throes of passion with someone they described as “the one,” called me out of the blue and asked if I had any dinner plans. When I asked why they weren’t spending every available minute with ‘the one,” they rolled their eyes and informed me that they’d broken it off. “Too needy,” they replied with a shrug. You or them, I asked? “Not funny,” they shot back, punching me in the arm.

See, it was only when “the one” seemed aloof and unattainable that my friend had dropped everything to pursue them. Only after “the one” reciprocated the affection and then went one further by displaying a sense of vulnerability did my friend decide they weren’t really “the one” after all. The idea that my friend might go the rest of their life repeating this chain of events struck me as incredibly sad. What was sadder is that I knew I’d been guilty of much the same thing at various points in my life. (more…)

David Medsker takes us on a mad, dark journey into a land most of us are probably familiar with — the Land of the Co-Dependent Relationship That Will Not Die, No Matter How Much Each Participant Believes It Should, And Hangs On Probably By The Force Of Sheer Utter Convenience. But in doing so, he teaches us valuable lessons: 1. No one can make you feel inferior without your consent and 2. You should always pay bands royalties if you feel as though you’re sort of copying their stuff. Both important lessons for this Valentine’s season.

“Go, Tribe! Or: The Milk Is Never, Ever Fresh”
By David Medsker

My breakup song story has one hell of a pregnant pause; it actually takes place nearly five years after the final breakup with the lass in question. I say final breakup because this was one of those multiple-breakup relationships. You know the kind, the one that Larry Miller brilliantly lampooned by pretending to open a refrigerator and saying, “This milk is sour! Maybe tomorrow it’ll be fresh,” and putting the milk back in the fridge. If you’re in one of those right now, end it. The milk is never, ever fresh.

The relationship, in total, lasted a little more than six years, and even as I was breaking up with her, I still loved her. But it was abundantly clear to me that things would never work out – she still hadn’t told her mother that I had moved to Chicago to be with her, which I had done a year and a half earlier – so I put head before heart and pulled the plug. I even went so far as to utter words that St. Peter will surely repeat back to me on my day of judgment: “I still love you…but I don’t like you very much.” I’m a bastard, it’s true. (more…)