DISPATCH FROM SALT LAKE: MY SHEDAISY 'SISTERS' BRING IT ON HOME
By JOHN YOUNGREN
SALT LAKE CITY -- Maybe it's because I don't exactly run with a shit-kickin' crowd, but one of the biggest acts in country music is sometimes a bit under-appreciated by my friends and colleagues, even right here in our own backyard.
Nevertheless, as the local TV stations say, "Utah's own SHeDAISY" released their new album, "Knock On The Sky," this week, and it's clear they've got another hit on their hands (it's their first real follow-up to their successful debut, 1999's "The Whole Shebang").
Much like that first album, one of those infectious CDs that sort of emerges, fully formed, as a greatest hits collection in its own right, "Knock On the Sky" is loaded with an exquisitely harmonic lineup of songs, sometimes a bit more mature and world-weary than "The Whole Shebang," but in no way less enjoyable.
In fact, for any music fan who cringes everytime a group decides to evolve to a more "mature" sound after a successful debut (Hootie, anyone?), "Knock On The Sky" should be Exhibit A: It can be done, at least in the hands of a talented songwriter like SHeDAISY leader Kristyn Osborn, the blonde oldest sister of the trio that lives in Nashville but still considers Magna, Utah, its home.
Kristyn, along with younger sisters Kassidy (the talented brunette lead singer) and Kelsi (the redhead on harmonies) and producer Dann Huff have given "Knock On The Sky" a professional sheen more akin to power pop than country ballads. Despite some rather world-weary lyrics (more on that in a moment), "Knock On The Sky" skates through a textured mix of infectious hooks and the Osborns' patented, indelible harmonies. Nashville or not, what they've created is a soaring summer platter of plaintive love songs.
It's especially exciting to see another home run for SHeDAISY when I consider that it was exactly a year ago that I met the group in person, when they were visiting Salt Lake City to perform at a July 4th concert at Rice-Eccles Stadium.
A colleague of mine who's close to the group, Mark Stevenett, got me in the doors at the SHeDAISY soundcheck, where they were working out the evening's kinks and trying to hold off handlers for Huey Lewis & The News, who were on the same bill that night as the headlining act. (Never mind the easy jokes about Huey … let's just say SHeDAISY should headline if that particular combination ever comes together again).
Despite what could have understandably been a lot of pressure -- getting ready to perform for a hometown crowd on a sweltering morning in a large, unfamiliar stadium -- all three members of the group couldn't have been more gracious. Screw Huey. SHeDAISY took time to chat, sign autographs and pose for pictures with me -- surely, their geekiest fan.
I still have one of the photos from that day on my desk and can't help but think I look a little like a Disneyland mascot standing with my sunglasses on and my arms wrapped around the three svelte Osborn sisters, like the crazy bald brother they hoped and prayed they never had.
Still, that meeting isn't why I've been a fan. As I told the girls that day (my casual manner underscoring our close relationship), I bought "The Whole Shebang" long before I even knew they were from Utah or had any local ties. I saw it as more of a companion to my Dixie Chicks collection, an apt comparison then and now. And the damnably memorable melodies of those early songs like "Little Good-Byes," "I Will … But" and "Lucky 4 You (Tonight I'm Just Me)" sold me for good.
Same goes after repeated listenings since the Tuesday release of "Knock On The Sky," No. 1 in my car CD changer for the past few days. And that despite the fact that all through the album and in several interviews Kristyn has repeatedly hinted at a more mature, lived-in perspective as the driving theme behind her songs.
"[I am] compelled by some 'greater creative force' to fully expose my inner workings: my fears and heartaches, my personal discoveries and regrets, indignation, fervor, joy in the form of lyrics and music," says Kristyn, who wrote or co-wrote every song on the album, in the new CD's liner notes.
"I am both terrified and appreciative that you have chosen to listen to what I have to say," she says. "Hopefully the messages laced throughout each melody and wrapped around every word will reach those they are intended to reach."
That said, the album's first single, the bombastic "Get Over Yourself" -- complete with rap ultimatums and shout-outs to those who've wronged -- is fun and fearless, not so much preachy as purposeful strut.
There are other highlights. The album's opener, "Mine All Mine," is a clever dish of regret wrapped in wordplay: "My loss, my lonely/My mistake, mine only." And the twangy "Repent" is maybe more country than anything else on the album; you could easily see it covered by some certain Chicks.
Other songs too, seem inspired by a variety of influences: There's almost a Beatlesque opening to "Everybody Wants You;" an undercurrent of distinctly non-Osborn drinking-to-forget behavior in"I'm Lit" ("Do you know I'm thinking you?/Can you feel me drinking you?/Is any of this sinking through?") and the Shania-styled "Man Goin' Down," among other highlights.
Best of all is the album's closer (more or less -- a "hidden" track, called "Knock On The Sky," awaits either the patient or forgetful), a soaring epic called "Keep Me." Written by Kristyn alone, the song succeeds in capturing the lost integrity and lingering regret of romance gone kaput. Like the best of Stevie Nicks or (even) mid-period Madonna, "Keep Me" effectively sums up an album's worth of heartbreak, remorse, reminiscence and wanderlust in a song that's simultaneously apologetic and hopeful.
So my posse -- my sisters -- from SHeDAISY were shooting for the sky.
They knocked this one out of the park.
["POP STEW" RATING: 4 CARROTS]
# # #
That’s it for this time. Tune in again soon for another exciting edition of the one and only, award-winning "Pop Stew!" Or, direct your comments to johnyoungren@earthlink.net
Monday, June 24, 2002
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING: THE BUZZ OVER LAUER'S HAIR
By JOHN YOUNGREN
I've been amused over the past week about the hoopla surrounding NBC's "Today" co-host Matt Lauer, who had his hair shorn to a razor-thin cut because, as he said, it was time to go toe to toe with Mother Nature.
Lauer, who co-hosts "Today" with America's babe Katie Couric, reasoned that he has been losing his hair for the past several years. As the logic for balding men is to cut whatever hair you have left low -- so as to not show the contrast -- Lauer went for the plan, and allowed his "Today" hairstylist to shave his hair close last weekend.
Beginning last Monday, America took notice. Couric cracked a joke or two, and Lauer began a long week of enduring "Which way does Matt look better?" types of questions, in tabloids, on the Internet and on TV shows all over the nation.
I think it's all pretty funny because I went through much the same thing a
few years ago – and how many times can I compare myself to Matt Lauer?
It all began when my hairstylist at the time -- Judy, who'd been cutting my hair since I was 22 and was now on hand as I turned 30 -- suggested she cut my hair back dramatically, all the better to see my scalp (and confront my impending baldness) by.
Judy'd been talking about some version of all of this for months; let's just say she was a little ahead of my time. For me, the final admission -- this was before Propecia, before any of my other physical remedies for losing my hair – was quite a pronouncement; I talked her out of cutting things low for several months but finally relented, right around eight years ago this month.
Judy did her job and shaved my hair back, cutting it low on top and short on the sides -- similar to Matt's -- while leaving the back of my hair just long
to create the appearance of growth. She then took things a step further by showing me how to use a rather porous hair gel; as it would turn out, I'd adopt Pat Riley's hairstyle before the summer was over and keep my shorn style brushed back, glistened with goop and long on the collar.
All of which was a look I would eventually find to be rather cool. But in those first days, after the first cut, I had no idea how to handle it. Judy cut my hair on Saturday and by Monday I was back in her chair, for an emergency visit. Judy cut my hair on Saturday and by the end of the weekend, I was wondering why I'd let her go so far -- especially given the fact that I had a blind date and a wedding to take part in during the week ahead.
The blind date was the most noteworthy, it'd turn out. Judy's cut took place on Saturday, my emergency visit happened on Monday, and my date -- with a babe named Tracy, who would be the star of this apocryphal story of love lost -- was on Tuesday night. We'd agreed to go to a Triple-A baseball game -- me, my blind date and the couple who'd set us up (who shall forever remain nameless, but well know who they are) on a hot summer night, the better to chat and flirt and enjoy. We were all meeting at our mutual friend's home, and I got there first, still struggling over whether to wear shorts or Levi’s, sandals or sneakers, cap or not.
The hair was a major issue. Though it'd been a couple of days, I still had no idea how to deal with it. My gel attempts were lame. My friend, whom I'll identify here as "Houdini," attempted to help me style something. He couldn't. I knew Tracy-the-babe was on her way. "Help me," I cried. "Help me."
Despite his name, Houdini couldn't do much magic. My hair was far too short, and lame. I didn't know how to juice it up. I had a cap in my car but didn't really want to wear it. So when Tracy arrived, I went to the game, pretending that I was cool but knowing that I wasn't.
"Youngren, it's no big deal," Houdini reasoned. "She's never seen you nor your hair before. She's not going to know that your hair is too short. Don't bring it up, and it'll never be an issue."
Perfectly logical, I'll admit, but I was running strong on neuroses and logic didn't come into play. Once Tracy arrived -- and I settled on jeans, rather than shorts, after polling her on what I should wear, which was another smooth move, I do say -- I proceeded to head off (no pun intended) to the game with her, no cap but short hair exposed, thinking I could be confident and all was right with the world.
A few minutes later, maybe around the third inning or so, I realized I couldn't keep it all inside. "I'm sure you're wondering what the deal is with my hair," I said, then quickly realized by her sideward glance that she had wondered nothing of the sort, but was now wondering what the hell she was doing there with me.
I went on to explain Judy, my short cut, my lack of confidence and expertise when it came to my new style and the fact that I wasn't wearing a cap on this evening because I didn't want to look like a goon.
Forget goons. Tracy was simply looking at me like I was a space alien.
Knowing I'd blown it -- so to speak -- I decided to just drink, heavily. Approximately 11 beers later, the game was over, and I staggered to my car -- which had been keyed down the right-hand side. Tracy looked like her night was over; our friends were looking at me as though I'd been diagnosed with some type of rare blood disease and they were just wishing I'd die. Either way, I'd be OK, I reasoned -- because there was no way it could be worse. (More than $400 in exterior paint repairs, I found it could be worse.)
Though I would try, I would never really see Tracy again. In fact, I don't think I've had a blind date since. God, I've barely had a date since.
In time -- and through transition, including the stylist -- I would grow comfortable with a shorter, more closely shorn hairstyle.
I still look like I'm losing my hair -- because I am -- but just don't give a shit anymore.
And this week, when I saw Matt, it all came back -- Katie and Propecia and hair gel and Tracy be damned.
Matt, hang tough, buddy.
It’ll get better.
It can’t get worse.
* * *
CHAPTER ONE: Introducing … the "Pop Stew" Book Club. Picking up where Oprah left off, and joining "Today," "USA Today," "Live with Regis & Kelly" and so many others in the fun, we’re proud to announce that – at long last – "Pop Stew" will be holding a book club.
Here’s how it works. Go buy the book we’re describing, here. It’s a new novel, out this summer, called "Bookends," by Jane Green. You can find it in your friendly neighborhood Barnes & Noble for about $21. One reviewer said "’Bookends’" is above all a story about friendship – its twists, turns and complications – and how it weathers the challenges of love, ambition, marriage, and, most of all, growing up."
Sounds fun, right?
Take a week, and read the first three or four chapters. Send me an e-mail, at johnyoungren@earthlink.net, and let me know what you think.
We’ll post some e-mails, and compare and contrast our notes on the first third of "Bookends" on Friday, July 5th.
Want more plot summary? Here’s the Booklist summary of "Bookends:" "Green's third novel to be published in the U.S. concerns the plight of four friends in their thirties. Cath, Simon, and Josh have been friends since college. Josh married Lucy, and they have a son, Max; Simon is desperately looking for Mr. Right; and Cath is shirking relationships altogether and dreaming of owning her own bookstore.
"When Lucy proposes that she and Cath make that dream a reality, Cath decides to take a chance: she leaves her boring but stable job, and she and Lucy find a location for the bookstore and begin to renovate it. Meanwhile, Simon has met a man, Will, but Cath finds him pretentious and condescending. Cath herself is receiving attention from James, the gorgeous real estate agent who sold her and Lucy the space for the bookstore, but she's not sure she wants to get involved. Then they find out that Portia, a gorgeous former friend of theirs who broke Josh's heart in college, may be after him again.
"When Cath finally gives in and goes out to dinner with James, she spots Josh and Portia together at the restaurant and fears the worst. As always, Green's characters are winning and fun and her plot entrancing."
Sounds like fun, right? Get out there and get reading. Because reading is fundamental!
# # #
That’s it for this time. Tune in again soon for another exciting edition of the one and only, award-winning "Pop Stew!" Or, direct your comments to johnyoungren@earthlink.net
By JOHN YOUNGREN
I've been amused over the past week about the hoopla surrounding NBC's "Today" co-host Matt Lauer, who had his hair shorn to a razor-thin cut because, as he said, it was time to go toe to toe with Mother Nature.
Lauer, who co-hosts "Today" with America's babe Katie Couric, reasoned that he has been losing his hair for the past several years. As the logic for balding men is to cut whatever hair you have left low -- so as to not show the contrast -- Lauer went for the plan, and allowed his "Today" hairstylist to shave his hair close last weekend.
Beginning last Monday, America took notice. Couric cracked a joke or two, and Lauer began a long week of enduring "Which way does Matt look better?" types of questions, in tabloids, on the Internet and on TV shows all over the nation.
I think it's all pretty funny because I went through much the same thing a
few years ago – and how many times can I compare myself to Matt Lauer?
It all began when my hairstylist at the time -- Judy, who'd been cutting my hair since I was 22 and was now on hand as I turned 30 -- suggested she cut my hair back dramatically, all the better to see my scalp (and confront my impending baldness) by.
Judy'd been talking about some version of all of this for months; let's just say she was a little ahead of my time. For me, the final admission -- this was before Propecia, before any of my other physical remedies for losing my hair – was quite a pronouncement; I talked her out of cutting things low for several months but finally relented, right around eight years ago this month.
Judy did her job and shaved my hair back, cutting it low on top and short on the sides -- similar to Matt's -- while leaving the back of my hair just long
to create the appearance of growth. She then took things a step further by showing me how to use a rather porous hair gel; as it would turn out, I'd adopt Pat Riley's hairstyle before the summer was over and keep my shorn style brushed back, glistened with goop and long on the collar.
All of which was a look I would eventually find to be rather cool. But in those first days, after the first cut, I had no idea how to handle it. Judy cut my hair on Saturday and by Monday I was back in her chair, for an emergency visit. Judy cut my hair on Saturday and by the end of the weekend, I was wondering why I'd let her go so far -- especially given the fact that I had a blind date and a wedding to take part in during the week ahead.
The blind date was the most noteworthy, it'd turn out. Judy's cut took place on Saturday, my emergency visit happened on Monday, and my date -- with a babe named Tracy, who would be the star of this apocryphal story of love lost -- was on Tuesday night. We'd agreed to go to a Triple-A baseball game -- me, my blind date and the couple who'd set us up (who shall forever remain nameless, but well know who they are) on a hot summer night, the better to chat and flirt and enjoy. We were all meeting at our mutual friend's home, and I got there first, still struggling over whether to wear shorts or Levi’s, sandals or sneakers, cap or not.
The hair was a major issue. Though it'd been a couple of days, I still had no idea how to deal with it. My gel attempts were lame. My friend, whom I'll identify here as "Houdini," attempted to help me style something. He couldn't. I knew Tracy-the-babe was on her way. "Help me," I cried. "Help me."
Despite his name, Houdini couldn't do much magic. My hair was far too short, and lame. I didn't know how to juice it up. I had a cap in my car but didn't really want to wear it. So when Tracy arrived, I went to the game, pretending that I was cool but knowing that I wasn't.
"Youngren, it's no big deal," Houdini reasoned. "She's never seen you nor your hair before. She's not going to know that your hair is too short. Don't bring it up, and it'll never be an issue."
Perfectly logical, I'll admit, but I was running strong on neuroses and logic didn't come into play. Once Tracy arrived -- and I settled on jeans, rather than shorts, after polling her on what I should wear, which was another smooth move, I do say -- I proceeded to head off (no pun intended) to the game with her, no cap but short hair exposed, thinking I could be confident and all was right with the world.
A few minutes later, maybe around the third inning or so, I realized I couldn't keep it all inside. "I'm sure you're wondering what the deal is with my hair," I said, then quickly realized by her sideward glance that she had wondered nothing of the sort, but was now wondering what the hell she was doing there with me.
I went on to explain Judy, my short cut, my lack of confidence and expertise when it came to my new style and the fact that I wasn't wearing a cap on this evening because I didn't want to look like a goon.
Forget goons. Tracy was simply looking at me like I was a space alien.
Knowing I'd blown it -- so to speak -- I decided to just drink, heavily. Approximately 11 beers later, the game was over, and I staggered to my car -- which had been keyed down the right-hand side. Tracy looked like her night was over; our friends were looking at me as though I'd been diagnosed with some type of rare blood disease and they were just wishing I'd die. Either way, I'd be OK, I reasoned -- because there was no way it could be worse. (More than $400 in exterior paint repairs, I found it could be worse.)
Though I would try, I would never really see Tracy again. In fact, I don't think I've had a blind date since. God, I've barely had a date since.
In time -- and through transition, including the stylist -- I would grow comfortable with a shorter, more closely shorn hairstyle.
I still look like I'm losing my hair -- because I am -- but just don't give a shit anymore.
And this week, when I saw Matt, it all came back -- Katie and Propecia and hair gel and Tracy be damned.
Matt, hang tough, buddy.
It’ll get better.
It can’t get worse.
* * *
CHAPTER ONE: Introducing … the "Pop Stew" Book Club. Picking up where Oprah left off, and joining "Today," "USA Today," "Live with Regis & Kelly" and so many others in the fun, we’re proud to announce that – at long last – "Pop Stew" will be holding a book club.
Here’s how it works. Go buy the book we’re describing, here. It’s a new novel, out this summer, called "Bookends," by Jane Green. You can find it in your friendly neighborhood Barnes & Noble for about $21. One reviewer said "’Bookends’" is above all a story about friendship – its twists, turns and complications – and how it weathers the challenges of love, ambition, marriage, and, most of all, growing up."
Sounds fun, right?
Take a week, and read the first three or four chapters. Send me an e-mail, at johnyoungren@earthlink.net, and let me know what you think.
We’ll post some e-mails, and compare and contrast our notes on the first third of "Bookends" on Friday, July 5th.
Want more plot summary? Here’s the Booklist summary of "Bookends:" "Green's third novel to be published in the U.S. concerns the plight of four friends in their thirties. Cath, Simon, and Josh have been friends since college. Josh married Lucy, and they have a son, Max; Simon is desperately looking for Mr. Right; and Cath is shirking relationships altogether and dreaming of owning her own bookstore.
"When Lucy proposes that she and Cath make that dream a reality, Cath decides to take a chance: she leaves her boring but stable job, and she and Lucy find a location for the bookstore and begin to renovate it. Meanwhile, Simon has met a man, Will, but Cath finds him pretentious and condescending. Cath herself is receiving attention from James, the gorgeous real estate agent who sold her and Lucy the space for the bookstore, but she's not sure she wants to get involved. Then they find out that Portia, a gorgeous former friend of theirs who broke Josh's heart in college, may be after him again.
"When Cath finally gives in and goes out to dinner with James, she spots Josh and Portia together at the restaurant and fears the worst. As always, Green's characters are winning and fun and her plot entrancing."
Sounds like fun, right? Get out there and get reading. Because reading is fundamental!
# # #
That’s it for this time. Tune in again soon for another exciting edition of the one and only, award-winning "Pop Stew!" Or, direct your comments to johnyoungren@earthlink.net
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