(SCHELDE) HOP-RUITER BLOND HOPPY BEER

Elaborate ‘strong golden ale’ doubles as nifty Abbey tripel. Assertive dry-hopped bittering opposes funky candi-sugared Belgian yeast for rustic blonde-hazed medium-full body. Herbaceous white-peppered grapefruit, pineapple, mango, kiwi, and passion fruit seep into sourly lemon-pitted tartness. Peculiar eucalyptus, menthol, and sage illusions nudge adventurous concoction. Not strictly for adventurous drinkers looking for cool aperitif changeup. Image result for schelde hop ruiter

DEVOTCHKA REACHES CLIMAX WITH ‘100 LOVERS’

Shrewd Mexicali-influenced gypsy punks, DeVotchKa, came to the fore in the year 2000 when native New Yorker, Nick Urata, a soon-to-be pedigreed Chicago musician, left the cold Midwest confines to link up with fellow Chi-town deserter, ex-bassist Jon Ellison to form an early version of his exotic band in Denver. Though formative debut, SuperMelodrama, and its decent ’03 follow-up, Una Volta, were merely steppingstones, Urata’s apprenticing unit would receive better underground recognition for ‘04s How It Ends. Good luck struck in ’06 when award-winning motion picture, Little Miss Sunshine, featured DeVotchKa’s soundtrack music, especially sad romantic lullaby, "Till The End Of Time," giving the increasingly popular combo a whiff of aboveground access. A year after, the excellent A Mad And Faithful Telling proved all the acclaim and hype was completely deserved. Chiming xylophone provided melodic guidance to stirring string-plucked confessional, "The Clockwise Witness." Mystical balladic retreat "New World" and anguished sanctuary "Transliterator" also struck a chord. DeVotchKa’s reputation was greatened by Gogol Bordello’s Slavic-obsessed peer, Eugene Hutz, who brought their variegated multi-cultured music to another worthy film, Everything Is Illuminated (co-starring the multifaceted Hutz). Plus, the curious Curse Your Little Heart EP brought forth an eerie cover of Velvet Underground & Nico’s sadomasochistic dirge, "Venus In Furs." Along the way, Urata gained poise, confidence, and a dramatic singing voice to complement his guitar, theremin, trumpet, and piano skills. Surrounded by equally experienced collaborators Jeanie Schroder (bass and sousaphone), Shawn King (drums and trumpet), and Tom Hagerman (accordion, violin, and piano), DeVotchKa’s unrivaled blend of nomadic Eastern European gypsy culture and spaghetti Western intrigue with Mexicali blues, norteno ballads, boleros, tangos, and mariachi became more structurally refined and stimulatingly defined over time. And now…DeVotchKa return with their most impressive salvo yet, ‘11s Arizona desert classic, 100 Lovers. Produced by long-time associate, Craig Schumacher (who’s worked with indie legends Neko Case, Robyn Hitchcock, Dexter Romweber, Dave Alvin, Steve Wynn, Howe Gelb, and the Sadies), it captures an epic twilight moodscape shot in the vast terrain of America’s great southwest and pleated by a melting pot of international styles. Contrasting slow and fast tempos with loud and soft dynamics throughout, several deliberately paced items gain momentum to lead the charge. Ethereal serenading overture, "The Alley," yet another movie composition originated in its much shorter version on the unheralded Fling, picks up a drum-marched beat along its orchestral violin-laced neo-Classical journey. On "All The Sand In All The Seas," darting keyboards encounter melodramatic strings decorating Urata’s scintillatingly majestic ululating tenor (beckoning comparisons to U2’s luminescent Bono). Then, oscillating synth loops and wayward flute float across billowy séance, "100 Other Lovers." After those introductory numbers, DeVotchKa loosen up a bit for devotional Middle Eastern meditation, "The Common Good," opposing icy violin classicism with spasmodic gypsy dance maneuvers. Inside a pervasive accordion design, theatrical Argentinean tango, "The Man From San Sebastian," places espionage-like allusions against dribbled surf guitar riffs. And whistled rainy day stroller, "Exhaustible," retains a baroque folk tone counteracting swift Mexicali absolution, "Bad Luck Heels." Perhaps misterioso Spanglish anthem, "Ruthless," resonates best. Reminiscent of the resurgent Os Mutantes, its simple acoustic strumming and crisp Latin percussion help underscore sympathetic strings while Urata reaches whirring emotional heights. Who’d have thought one of the best ethnocentric revolutionaries would come out of the remote climes of Denver? But there you go. What made you want to get into music? NICK URATA: My grandparents were immigrants. My one grandfather, whom I was really close with, was a horn player. He inspired me to pick up the horn. He was my hero. I followed in his footsteps. He taught me philosophies of music and life and sent me down the road.
Why’d you choose Denver as DeVotchKa’s home front?
 
    I was bouncing around quite a bit. I lived in Chicago awhile and began seriously writing songs there. One of my writing partners was an accordion player and we had mutual friends. He was from Colorado and the Chicago weather was getting me down. So I tagged along. I found Denver to be a vibrant, easygoing scene to get together with people and make music. In Chicago, I’d been a sideman in the Blacks, a Bloodshot Records alt-Country-folk group. It was cool. We used acoustic instruments and dabbled all over the place.
How has DeVotchKa grown in the past decade?
 
    I grew as a vocalist. I’m not too proud of my early vocal work. I didn’t have the chops. But being on the road helped. I feel we were always treading water with the early albums. I made a lot of records before I felt we sounded the way I wanted. We found a direction to go in. If our third album had failed, it would’ve probably been the end of us. I hope the last few albums sounded like us and not other people.
How has long-time producer, Craig Schumacher, helped you reach goals?
 
    We hooked up with Calexico early in our career. He’d worked with them. They were a huge influence and took us on tour for our first album. They had a full mariachi band and traded songs with us.
"Bad Luck Heels" has a Mexicali feel similar to Calexico. Its lyrics seem to beg for forgiveness – a common theme here.
 
    I’m glad you grabbed on to the forgiveness. I pictured it as the classic cliché of a guy trying to serenade a girl like a thousand other guitarists all playing nylon strings. That’s the sound I was going for.
There’s also a lot of regret in there as well.
 
    Who doesn’t get to the point where you have a few regrets. There’s a lot of existential crises on 100 Lovers. That came out when I wrote the songs.
Did you try to beef up the surreal Western imagery in the music and black & white inner sleeve photographs?
 
    That has always been there. We do keep images around that aesthetically inspire us and our music fits that. There’s something very comforting about that black & white Western world.
Tell me about the auspices of "The Man From San Sebastian."
 
    We were traveling around in our van to the Basque region of Spain. It’s this fairy tale place. I became really interested in how these Basque people were still trying to break away from Spain. There could be an insurgency in this beautiful, peaceful place. But as an outsider you could see both sides. It was a cool romantic idea. The first three songs on 100 Lovers seem to have a more universal appeal and are far less restrictively eccentric. Your best vocal performance comes during the middle track, "All The Sand In All The Seas." It wasn’t really about getting a broader audience. It was more about the inspiring performance. There is this pressure to repeat yourself and stay in one realm. But that song we thought was very inspiring to play and different for us, but that’s why we latched onto it. It became a favorite to play live.  I thought "Ruthless" nipped at the heels of Brazilian psych-rock luminaries, Os Mutantes. Wow! Glad you mentioned that. They’re big heroes of ours. I didn’t think of them consciously, but we actually used a genuine Brazilian percussionist and melded that to some ‘60s/ ‘70s rock elements which was sort of what Os Mutantes did. I’m glad it fits into their world. As for the ‘70s appeal, I enjoyed the soft singer-songwriter stroll of "Exhaustible." It could’ve fit in with Cat Stevens, James Taylor, Emmit Rhodes, or Loggins & Messina. It’s a breezy ‘70s love croon. That was really fun to write and perform. It’s kind of our "All You Need Is Love" as well, since the children’s chorus we tried to do in one room. I also felt DeVotchKa expanded upon the lush arrangements consuming A Mad And Faithful Telling. We weren’t as good as we are now. Due to budget constraints, we were somewhat limited in the past. But we were able to do what we wanted to do. We gave our string player, Tom Hagerman, carte blanche to do what he wanted to and it worked out. He stretched out and realized the logistics of our more complex arrangements. He really stepped up to the plate. Will DeVotchKa’s future albums delve into newer styles? I predict we’ll hang in this direction for awhile.

WOLF PEOPLE CLIMB BROAD ‘STEEPLE’

It took a high-spirited emigrating crew of youthful Australians to perfectly capture the ruggedly forceful post-Beatles rock period (1969-1973) without sounding dated, half-baked, or just plain generic in the 21st century. Still in their developmental stage, Wolf People display all of the key ingredients necessary to recreate the glorious fertile past, yet they appreciatively avoid every convoluted pitfall tedious backdated retro styling incurs.

Leader Jack Sharp (guitar-vocals) and fellow wolves Joe Hollick (guitar), Daniel Davies (bass), and Tom Watt concoct a familiar metal-edged rhythm-heavy setting for heady prog regressions, sonic psychedelic digressions, lofty blues citations, and drifting folk migrations, moving forward the general dynamics without resorting to bombastic superficiality.

 

Since the underground success of formative ’08 assemblage, Tidings (a neat compendium of early Sharp tunes), Wolf People have called England home, gathering a rabid cult following there that prompted the release of fertile breakthrough, Steeple. Inventively refashioning the Classic rock vibes of Traffic, Cream, pre-fame Fleetwood Mac, and dozens of lesser Woodstock-era groups with keenly detailed compositional strategies, Sharp whips up quite a frenzied attack, rambling through a few tersely distended jams releasing sprawled tension all over the place.

Placing his timid alto quiver to the fore on pallid mystical rendezvous "Morning Born," Sharp recalls the haunting detachment of the nearly inimitable Steve Winwood in a few key spots. And the breathy electric flute undulations consuming vexed blues-rock paradox, "Tiny Circle" visibly mimics the hoary boldness Jethro Tull’s Ian Anderson once insinuated. Despite these retroactive inducements, Wolf People overcome any cheaply limiting motives by giving each basic track an indefinable quantitative sustenance.

The absolute highlight, "One By One From Dorney Reach," easily overcomes any comparative retro-stylistic tendencies, bringing back the days when Peter Green’s stinging guitar rummaged inside Fleetwood Mac’s cosmic blues, but doing so in a straightforward manner that rekindles the spirit with utmost vitality and void of tawdry artistic pretense. Likewise, "Silbury Sands" inadvertently contrasts the Anglo-folk choral frailty of Traffic’s "Forty Thousand Headmen" against primordial metal flagrancy. Furthermore, the roaring vacuum-tube guitar sustenance and charging percussive march of jinxed alchemy "Painted Cross" wouldn’t seem out of place next to Cream’s colossal Disraeli Gears.

Neither as scruffy nor repulsive as their hirsute moniker may suggest, Wolf People are nonetheless driven by a primal musical urge any true rock and roll cave-stomper will find irresistible.

How'd the name Wolf People come about? None of the members are overtly hairy dudes.

JACK SHARP: I had some demos I wanted to put on the internet back in 2005, and chose the name from a kids book, ‘Little Jacko and the Wolf People’. It was a bit of a stupid name but I wasn’t expecting anything to happen with the songs so I wasn’t that bothered. We’ve discussed changing it but never came up with anything worth replacing it with.

How have Wolf People evolved since Tidings gathered recordings from 2005 to 2007?

Tidings was just me messing about with songs done at home, but it forms a blueprint for the way we work now. We learnt to be a band by playing those songs live, and I have a lot of respect for Joe and Tom throwing themselves into playing them so wholeheartedly. Dan came along a bit later when we’d started writing material together. Now it’s our band rather than my band, which I love. I don’t think you see that so much any more.

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?Who were some of your early influences?

The earliest songs were an attempt to copy ideas from Captain Beefheart’s Safe as Milk. I was trying to get some of the guitar sounds and copy the way the Magic Band laid melodies out. I was listening to the first Pentangle record a lot at the same time too so folk music started filtering into it. That was "Empty Heart," "October Fires" and "Black Water." Before then, I hadn’t written a proper song or even played the guitar much for about six years. I was too busy buying records and making beats on an MPC. My parents schooled me on folk and blues but when you’re too young you don’t want to know, so I was in the process of rediscovering all that stuff and still am.

What was the most difficult arrangement to put together for STEEPLE?

Probably "Silbury Sands," as it’s the most collaborative. That was one of the most rewarding ones to do though. We had so many bits and pieces that worked together when they finally clicked in to place it was great. It was hard to play live for a long time too for some reason. I feel like we’re only just hitting our stride with it.

What was the inspiration for "Painted Cross"?

There’s a Church in the village me and Tom grew up in that was abandoned in the late 1800’s in favour of the new church in the centre of the village. It developed a bit of a reputation as a spooky place. In 1962, some graves were opened and bones were scattered. They also found red crosses etched on the inside walls, leading to a story about black magic in the local press. It brought a lot of unwanted attention on the church and caused a lot of distress to the village families who had relatives buried in the graveyard. My Dad developed a theory that the tombs had cracked due to the harsh winter in 1962, which would also explain the consecration crosses being exposed under the cracked plaster. It caused a lot of trouble throughout the ‘60s and even in the ‘80’s when we moved there. Hundreds of people flocking there every Halloween, and loads of police.

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My favorite tune may be "One By One From Dorney Reach". What's it about and how’d the ringing hook line come into being?

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It’s about the A6 murder in 1961 that happened on a lay-by just outside our village. A man was hanged for it but the debate is still raging as to whether he did it or not. There are articles and letters in our local paper every week, even now. I read a load of stuff about it and wanted to find out what happened, so I sort of set the lyrics out as a plea to the survivor from the victim. She was unable to positively identify the murderer during trial. Joe wrote the main hook at rehearsal, the one just before the chorus. I changed it slightly for the intro and linking parts. It’s a really simple song.

There seems to be an underlying mysticism inspiring the lyrics. If so, tell me how they affect the music.

That’s nice to hear. That’s the intention. But it’s always a fine line between writing something that sounds ‘mystical’ and disappearing up your own backside, a line I’ve probably crossed more than once. It’s what I like to hear and read and it’s what I feel comfortable writing. I really like when people write candidly too, but find it very difficult to do. It always sounds corny. I listen to a lot of folk music, getting inspiration from traditional lyrics. Scottish songs tend to be the most appealing, as they usually have more grit and bloodshed. I started reading a lot of British and Irish folk tales at the time of writing the LP too. I really liked People of the Sea by David Thomas and I’ve more recently been reading some George Ewart Evans books, which are full of great stuff.

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How has your dynamic live show evolved?

It’s got more dynamic! The more we play together and the better we know the songs, the more we can lean into them and change parts spontaneously and increase the dynamic between sections. We’ve tried to simplify things by using as few pedals as possible. We like to hear the amps and guitars working. If you restrict your options on sounds it forces you to change the sound with your hands rather than a foot switch, which we find a lot more rewarding.

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What have you been listening to lately? Does any of?this music inspire your bands style?

I’ve been revisiting a lot of Beefheart, for obvious reasons. I have been pretty hung up on Mighty Baby’s 2nd album for a while too. I’d love to write something like that. Also, Olivia Chaney, an amazing singer-songwriter yet to release anything. Baron, who is also unsigned, made one of the best albums of last year. I find it hard to listen to anything without it affecting the way I play and write. I have to be careful what I listen to, and make sure I don’t rip anyone off.

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What future direction or untried music stylings would Wolf People like to explore?

Kozmik Skiffle? We’re trying our hardest not to think about it.

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SOUTHAMPTON ABBOT 12 ABBEY STYLE DARK ALE

Lofty Abbey-styled quadrupel (with 9.9% alcohol reticence) brings authentic candi-sugared Belgian yeast musk to creamy brown-sugared molasses malting and black-peppered sour fruiting. Rum-spiced raisin, plum, prune, and black cherry saturate orange-bruised red wine bluster before approaching brandy, burgundy, cognac, courvoisier, and sherry illusions come into focus (draping lactic base). Chocolate nibs, cola nut, and praline spotted at deep recess.

HARPOON BELGIAN STYLE PALE ALE

Vacillating amber-golden moderate body doesn’t necessarily promote Belgian-styled peculiarities well, but its strong bite will please less discriminating hop-heads. Expectant candi-sugared yeast musk lacks distinction and metallic alcohol-burnt twinge proves dismissive, but lemon-seeded pineapple, orange, cherry, and banana illusions delicately nudge rosy floral-wafted honeyed herbal dalliance, neatly contrasting sullen black-peppered juniper-like bittering.

PEAK ORGANIC WINTER SESSION ALE

Satisfactory dry-bodied copper-hazed winter ale closer to English-styled pub ale due to organic earthen nature and peat-y rye malting. Toasted whole grains upend constricted piney fruiting. Date nut bread, pumpernickel raisin bread, and brunt toast illusions mask subsidiary pineapple-grapefruit-raspberry whir. Traditional-minded winter spicing (cinnamon-nutmeg-gingerbread) shunned in favor of dry-hopped dark wheat tendencies. Winter Session Ale - Peak Organic Brewing Company - Untappd

COTTRELL MYSTIC BRIDGE I.P.A.

Easygoing copper-hazed fleshy-headed East Coast moderation perhaps stylistically closer to a mild English-styled IPA, or better yet, a toasted lager. Roasted caramel malting takes the reins, leaving expectant pine-fruited dry-hop prickle to tend softer backend. Cereal-grained marzipan, almond, and buttered pecan graze dewy earthen peat, lemony orange-grapefruit sass, and minor alcohol burn.