Vanessa Peters April 2019 Artist of the Month

Foxhole Prayers

Texas-based Vanessa Peters was a literature major in college who once entertained the idea of becoming a short story writer. Instead she opted for a career in music, but it her songs are short stories in their own right. Foxhole Prayers took shape when she was re-reading The Great Gatsby and realized that we seem to reliving Fitzgerald's era with–in her words­–"Trump as some sort of PT Barnum-meets-Warren G. Harding character."

Peters mixes fear and pain with hope. On the title track, sirens swell and cacophony rises before giving way to echo effects that frame Peters' vocals. There's a lot going on in this song. A sample lyric: we're all just children hurried out of school/holding hands and told to keep our heads low/and all of this just makes me weary/the woman in the backseat screaming/yes sir yes is yes sir/can't anybody hear me? It is at once a beautiful song–which is true of anything that comes out of her mouth–but also one that makes the hair rise on the back of your neck. And she sure doesn't believe that Trump will save us from any of this. On "Carnival Barker" she sings: but there was this carnival barker we were all warned about/they told us to steer clear of him when he came to our town/you'll get a circus, history told us, if you vote for a clown/but the grifters pitched their tents and the good word got drowned out… This song also showcases how well Peters works with a band. She commands the stage like a young Emmylou. Peters isn't letting anyone off the hook for what went wrong. Check out "Just One of Them." Her observation: and this ragged dream is full of holes poked through/and the threads left behind don't hang true/and I’m deafened by my silence in the face of so much need/I thought I was an honest man but truth be told/I'm just one of them. Well, damn, that's just good songwriting–the kind that impresses and makes you cringe at the same time.

Not all is hopeless. On "Fight" Peters sinks low but rises to tell us, get out there and fight girl, don't be afraid to bleed crawl back towards the light. Peters also takes time to realize that she's "Lucky" and has things that go beyond money and running races that don't matter. That message is made even more poignantly in "Get Started," another one in which she really works the band–Frederico Ciancabilla (lead guitar), Andrea Colicchia (bass), John Dufilho (percussion), Rip Rowan (keys)–on a piece that's on the pop side of folk rock. This one is serious, but with plus side possibilities.  

Still, Peters frets over the "Trolls," their "poisoned darts" and the "wizard (who) sold us out."  She wants us to wake up "Before It falls Apart." Good stuff from a singer/songwriter unafraid to speak truth to power or to critique her own actions.

Rob Weir


Collateral Beauty: Decent, Overlooked Take on A Christmas Carol

Directed by David Frankel
Warner Brothers, 97 minutes, PG-13

Collateral Beauty doesn’t rank high on the originality scale, but it’s a surprisingly goes-down-easy film for its tragic subject matter: losing a child. It came out at the very end of 2016 and garnered middling reviews. Many moviegoers expressed disappointment that its star, Will Smith, spends much of the film in wordless depression rather than dominating the screen as he usually does. There are reasons to overrule their judgment.

Collateral Beauty is essentially a remake of A Christmas Carol. We open to a somewhat improbable scene of Howard Inlet (Smith) stoking a large gathering as if he was the CEO of Apple at a rollout talk. He’s actually a cofounder, leader, and majority stockholder of a hip advertising company that seems to employ more people than Google. In his pep talk, Howard pontificates about the three most important concepts in both business and life: love, time, and death.

Move the clock forward three years and the firm is perched on the brink of insolvency. Howard is divorced, clinically depressed, and Zen-like in his solitude–all the aftermath of his young daughter’s tragic death. He no longer courts clients or develops new strategies; when he shows up in the office at all, he builds elaborate domino-like structures that he knocks down and builds anew. His partners–Simon (Michael Pena), Claire (Kate Winslet), and Howard’s best friend Whit (Ed Norton)–need cash to save what’s left of the firm and its employees, but they can’t go forward with a sale of the company without Howard’s approval. Howard isn’t talking, not even to Whit. The only outward sign of life of any sort is that Howard considers sitting in on grief counseling sessions led by a woman named Madeline (Naomie Harris). Mostly he stands outside of the session and stares vacantly.

Whit stumbles upon an idea when he impulsively trails a woman to whom he is attracted into a theatre where she is rehearsing a play. Okay, that’s kind of creepy, especially these days, but he begins to court the mostly uninterested Amy (Keira Knightley) and learns that the play she’s working on won’t see the light of day without an infusion of cash. What if, somehow, two birds could be knocked down with one stone? Whit convinces Claire and Simon to take part in an outwardly outrageous plan. He hires Amy and two fellow actors, Raffi (Jacob Latimore) and Brigitte (Helen Mirren) to accost Howard while in the ghostly roles of Love, Time, and Death.

There are various layers and subplots to all of this and a final resolution that will strike some as contrived and others are unanticipated. I underscore my remark that this is Dickens re-imagined and transplanted to Midtown Manhattan. In other words, we’re not talking realism–documentary, dramatic, magical, or otherwise. You simply have to buy into the setup, or steer clear. Nor will I pretend that this is any sort of innovative retelling of Dickens. Collateral Beauty is certainly open to criticism for being an adaptation that doesn’t quite gel–one that’s neither drama nor comedy, though it has elements of each.

It might have collapsed altogether without subtle but strong performances from Smith, Scott, and Harris; a charming one from Latimore; and a superior turn from Ms. Mirren, who is the sort of actress that would be brilliant simply walking across the street. It’s not one of Norton’s finer hours; he’s competent, but seems to be waltzing through his performance rather than stretching himself. Knightley–who sometimes seems to be doing a bad Tina Fey imitation– isn’t very convincing as Love, but she at least looks the part. (I’m beginning to think there’s about as much talent in her as there is flesh upon her frame.)

For all of the film’s shortcomings, it has a rough charm that manages to take us beyond Howard’s despair and provide a modicum of uplift. Collateral Beauty–the title’s meaning will be revealed–isn’t likely to make anyone’s hidden masterpieces list, but it’s certainly worthy of making one of overlooked movies. There are far worse ways to spend an hour and a half, and let’s give Will Smith some love for playing against type and expectation.

Rob Weir 


Music from Steve Earle, Matthew Mayfield, Lost Leaders, Tony Lucca, Kelly Augustine, Jonathan Stevens

Let's start with some big news. When Steve Earle moved to Nashville in 1974, he was an unknown 19-year-old writing songs and working a series of dead-end jobs to make ends meet. Who knows where he would have ended up had he not met outlaw country legend Guy Clark. I've only heard two tracks from Guy, Earle's take on some of Clark's classic songs. Let's just say that this project is long overdue and that I can't wait to get my hands on the rest of the record. Guy Clark must be smiling down from Heaven.
Sample: "LA Freeway "

I've also heard just two songs from Gun Shy, the just-released new album from gravely voiced veteran rocker Matthew Mayfield. If "Broken Clocks" and "Our Winds" are any indication, he's turned down the volume a bit. To me, it suits him well. We hear the lyrics better but more importantly we feel them. These two have a Richard Shindell vibe.

Lost Leaders, Extra-Ordinary, The Collection

Lost Leaders have recently dropped a new recording, the band's third. You can hear their single "I'm Gonna Win" on YouTube and sample older material on Extra-Ordinary. If you don't know of this New York band, you might have heard the name of bass player Byron Issacs, who was a member of the Levon Helm Band and now sometimes plays with The Lumineers. In Lost Leaders Issacs also plays guitar and shares vocal duties with guitarist Peter Cole. The best way to describe their music is to think of what you'd get if you crossed a retro pop/rock outfit with the post-punk sounds of The Lemonheads. "Horizontal Man" certainly evokes Bob Dylan's lyrical approach to vocals, though Lost Leaders rock out more cleanly than Dylan. What they do best, though, is wry-but-pointed commentary on modern neuroses. "Probably Why We're Here" is at once edgy and poppy, with Issacs laying down some bouncy thick bass lines. It's about a relationship on the rocks that's possibly terminal: We talk and talk but never speak/I never though we'd need a referee. I really like the collection's title track, a 21st century musical take of Riesman's The Lonely Crowd: But I can't complain/It's good to be like everybody/I'm hiding just the same/It's good to be like everybody. No worries about these guys becoming extra-ordinary. ★★★★

Tony Lucca, Ain't No Storm

Americana artist Tony Lucca surprises. At first his tenor seems light, almost pretty. Don't be deceived; his is a mighty voice that ranges widely. Listen to him on "Frame By Frame" and you can really hear him stretch it. Or "Restless Heart," where you'll hear just a splash of Dylan here and there before his natural smoothness takes over. Lucca also has interesting takes on things, as befits a guy who came to Nashville by way of Detroit and (seriously) The Mickey Mouse Club. I guess this combo taught him something about picking up the pieces and knowing when it's time to move on. In "One Less You," Lucca copes with absence by noting: one less road I have to travel/one less burden to bear/two fewer hearts/tangled up and torn apart/one less you is just one less me to repair. "Everything is Changing" is a song that is likely to turn some heads. It showcases Lucca on piano and it opens soft and wistful, as if it's going to be some wholesome country folk song. Nope! It's a mix of soft and hard, as Lucca mixes it up with a band and rocks out. It's also a poignant reminder of how individuals and couples must both grapple with ancient wisdom from the philosopher Heraclitus: "Change is the only constant in life." Or, as Lucca puts it: …dreams/weren't meant to remain dreams/merely a road map/to where you're 'sposed to be… This is one helluva record and Lucca is a talent you should discover if you've not done so already. ★★★★

Kelly Augustine, Light in the Lowlands

Kelly Augustine grew up in Oklahoma. Although she now lives in Denver, she knows that happy endings are not a given. Her country/folk debut is a good one that highlights her fine writing, a seriously powerful voice, and an outlook that evokes that of Lucinda Williams. "Debbie" is a honky-tonk styled song about a down market woman who cooks meth because she likes it. It's also a good way to feed her kids while her old man is in jail. "Can't Get Enough" is about loving an alcoholic, though you know you shouldn't. One of the album's more powerful songs is "Hurt Too Big," a needed corrective to the way we have glamorized the military. Her take is of a soldier whose idealism is shattered on he battlefield, where he learns that killing others is a sin: On his knees he cries out for forgiveness/God used to talk, but He's gone silent these days… and the solider is left with a Hurt too big for a heart too small. Augustine switches from folk and country to an Appalachian vibe for "Thunder on the Mountain," which takes the nonsense out of "clean coal" and probes the effects of mining, job loss, poverty, and grime. A few love songs take the edge off the gloom, the most affecting of which is "Second Chances," with its hope that act two will surpass act one: I think I'm looking at my best second chance/When I'm looking at you. ★★★ ½ 

Jonathan Stevens, Bread & Butter Songs

People in Western Massachusetts know Jonathan Stevens as a baker (Hungry Ghost), a poet, and an advocate for sustainability. If you've lived there long enough, you also know he's singer/songwriter. Bread & Butter Songs is a throwback to the 1970s when musicians made concept albums without a lot of studio gadgetry. The theme of this one is mostly related to what he does most days: bake bread. There are songs about bubbling dough, biscuits, pouring batter, and grain–sometimes as metaphors, sometimes straight up. Stevens wears his values on his sleeve and strums them out on his guitar: "Root for Soup," "Vidalia," Taste of Love." His "Every Kitchen" is an indirect look at food waste. There's even a song for black bears. This record is like his bread: homemade. Alas, there are no full-length YouTube videos currently available for this record, but there is a snippet of "Sweetness" on the Hungry Ghost Bakery Facebook page, and you can hear "Ballad of the Hungry Ghost" on YouTube to get a flavor of his music. If you like what you hear, make queries through Facebook. ★★★