Obtuse 2010 Christmas seasonal with off-putting shaving cream waft and ruddy brownish hue lacks traditional sugar spicing and boozy warmth. Herbal spearmint-rosemary-thyme quip negates ginger-cinnamon-nutmeg glance and cocoa-chocolate malting.
ROGUE MOGUL MADNESS ALE
Bold brown-hazed winter warmer classified as Black India Pale Ale, but closer to English Extra Special Bitter. Blunt cocoa-creamed chocolate spicing and nutted fig-date influx flutter through resinous pine bittering. But gruff alcohol pungency overwhelms tertiary dried cherry, raisin bread, and citric herbal illusions.
(SHMALTZ) HE’BREW VERTICAL JEWBELATION BARREL AGED ALE
Venerable rye-whiskey barreled elixir combines all seven Jewbelation recipes for richly contoured complexity. Creamy whiskey warmth strikes early, seeping into boisterous chocolate-smoked vanilla malting and tenacious liqueur-soaked crème brulee sashay. Purple-red grape esters and black cherry ripeness strengthen tertiary bourbon-sherry illusions. Phenomenal.
SHMALTZ JEWBELATION FOURTEEN
An avalanche of fourteen malts and fourteen hops plus brash 14% alcohol strength reinforce labyrinthine 14th anniversary barleywine celebrator. Heavy whiskey malting thickens lactic creaminess. Chocolate cake, Bacardi rum cake, and vanilla truffle decadence ensues. Sticky anise gets all over cocoa-buttered cookie dough center, cherry-pureed stewed prune swoon, and maple-oatmeal cereal graining. Wood-burnt hop roast embitters chewy mocha panorama.
21ST AMENDMENT HOP CRISIS DOUBLE IPA
Astonishing hazy copper double India Pale Ale strengthened by well-hidden 10.8% alcohol thrust is named in homage to 2009 hop shortage in America. Sugary caramel malting and sweet peach-tangerine-cantaloupe fruiting efficiently contrasted by piney resin-hopped orange-peeled grapefruit-juiced bittering. Crisp watered flow and mild spruce-tipped freshness allow lighter drinkers to enjoy its zesty punch alongside veritable hopheads.
(UINTA) TILTED SMILE IMPERIAL PILSNER
Hapless ‘big beer’ proves out of range for commonplace Utah brewer. Dubious sunny yellow-hazed medium body lacks body and character of exalted Imperial class. Brawny Saaz-hopped pilsner-malted citric-honeyed astringency corrupts grassy black-peppered bittering. Detrimental lemon-rotted orange-juiced souring and soapy cabbage-like vegetal acridity run rampant above frail peach-apple whim. Pass.
PORT 44 BREWERY
NEWARK, NEW JERSEY
The city of Newark is currently undergoing its greatest revitalization. New entertainment spots have sprung up recently, including the Prudential Center Arena, New Jersey Performing Arts Center, and Riverfront Stadium, allowing for increased cultural arts, sports, and restaurant revenue. In accordance, Port 44 Brew Pub opened May 2010 (and closed 2017), serving Newark’s first craft beers in nearly 100 years by July. Unfortunately, this worthy pub closed down in September 2011. Nevertheless, the following descriptions will enlighten those happy clients that perused the ill-fated Port 44.
Tucked inside Commerce Street’s industrious downtown neighborhood, the ample three-story pub enjoins retired Newark police officer, Greg Gilhooly, with ex-Orange fireman, John Feeley, as co-owners.
Newark boasted 27 pre-Prohibition breweries, most established by German and English immigrants commemorating Europe’s longstanding heritage. Though each is long gone, Port 44 restores New Jersey’s most populated city’s once-proud brewing tradition.
Visited September 2010, the wholly refurbished watering hole featured three standard brews (plus two specialties), fine continental cuisine, $3 happy hour house beers, and an affordable 20-ounce mug club ($55 per year for decorative personalized glassware, drink-food discounts, and more). The brick-walled stone-tiled oak-furnished street level’s central octagon bar (with six TV’s) services several black-chaired tables. Four front-windowed 15-barrel fermenters occupy the concrete red-floored left side. Right side stairs lead to a second floor oak bar with more seating and copper-kettle tanks. The unfinished third floor will become a conference-banquet room. In the basement, a foam-insulated walk-in cooler holds more brew tanks while a raw keg storage space will soon be correctly pitched for sub-pumps.
Established brewer, Chris Sheehan, wearing a classic Krueger Beer T-shirt celebrating America’s first canned beer, greets me at high noon. Originally from Buffalo, the self-proclaimed ‘metal head’ started as a home brewer before heading West to join California’s revolutionary microbrew hotbed. He attended an intense week-long brewing course at UC-Davis to learn microbiology, sanitizing, and tasting, working part-time at Berkeley’s historic Triple Rock Alehouse prior to moving across the bay to San Francisco’s bigger 20 Tank Brewery as a full-timer. He landed at Manhattan’s now-defunct Neptune Brewery (located above Chelsea Market) for three months, then Chelsea Brewing thereafter (accepting several national awards).
Recruited to craft newfangled libations for Port 44, Sheehan understands the local impact a brewpub could have on a community. He’s aware of Newark’s extremely diverse cultural populace and realizes each pub should have its own identity, even if it’s as multi-faceted as the Brick City’s heterogeneous community.
“To a certain extent, we wanted a nice pub feel. Prevalent use of wood décor, stone tiling, and up-front tanks add an Industrial feel. We didn’t want to be a full-blown sportsbar, but wanted to accommodate and focus on the Devils fans three blocks away at Prudential Center. So we had to have a sports appeal for the fans we anticipate hosting,” Sheehan explains as I quaff his lightest offering.
Named after Jersey’s state bird, the soft-focus Goldfinch Ale will please pilsner fans. Its tannic lemon-spiced dry-hopped bitterness and parched wheat bottom counter sweet cereal-grained crystal malting.
Sheehan adds, “It has the mentality and attitude of a pilsner, yet it’s top-fermented and treated as a hoppy golden ale at warmer temperatures. A sack of light caramel pils gives it a subtle sweetness you’ve perceived as crystal malts. It’s been described as lemony, attributed to a generous dose of German-hybrid Mount Hood hops.”
Next up, grassy-hopped grapefruit-peeled wheat-dried, American-styled Siren’s Wheat, retains a mild juniper-embittered lemon zest.
“That’s a very fair description,” Sheehan approves. “25 cents of every pint goes to a charity scholarship for children of injured policemen, firemen, and EMT workers.”
Still experimenting with Siren’s recipe, he divulges, “I didn’t want it to come out as hoppy, but the pleasant surprise about the system we’re using is the pronounced hop utilization. In this case, it pumped up the hops too much. I want to back off a bit to make this a truer expression of an astringent American wheat. It’s too similar to Goldfinch right now, which is going to run out. I’m a one-man show trying to catch up. So Siren’s got to pick up the slack.”
Soft-watered butter-spiced orange-soured quince-flinched Devil’s Red scatters grapefruit-embittered Simcoe hops across roasted Vienna malts. A short alcohol burn accompanies the tart yellow-fruited finish.
“Citric notes are a good descriptive for American hops, in general. Obviously brewed to appeal to Devils fans without plagiarizing the franchise, I like using chalkboard imagery to invoke the legendary Jersey Devil as well,” the brewmeister points out.
Robust dry-bodied hop-charred coffee-roasted Longy’s Black Market Stout (just tapped today) brings mild espresso-cappuccino sedation to cedar-seared black-tarred anise gunk, finishing comparably to a mochacchino. Named after Prohibition mobster, Longy Zwillman, it’s not dissimilar to Sheehan’s award-winning Chelsea Black Hole XXX Stout.
“This one’s closer to an American-styled stout with aggressive Centennial hops and milder coffee. Black Hole’s a foreign-styled stout, stronger (8% alcohol) with super-intense malt roast. Longy’s will continue to evolve. Flavors will mature, round out, and the rough-edged harshness will dissipate,” Sheehan says.
To close my session, 13-day-old Catskill Hop Harvest, still embryonic, proved worthy. A fruitful creamy-headed rust-hazed wet-hopped ale, its tropical rain-watered pineapple-mango-papaya-cantaloupe sweetness, floral hibiscus-heather whisk, and caramelized sugar malting juxtaposed salty earthen hops.
Anyone doubting Sheehan’s serious-minded brewing techniques should know he drove to Upstate New York to collect Catskill’s homemade wet hops, describing its character as a bit British with earthen-floral nuances.
Feeling strongly about preserving Newark’s historic 19th century brewing reputation, the native Buffalonian realizes Newark’s tap water helped many pre-Prohibition breweries prosper. He’s been fortunate to work with great water in San Francisco, New York, and now, Newark, taking advantage of the situation whereby it’s not necessary to use salts for eliminating bacteria.
In the near future, Sheehan hopes to craft a German doppelbock, since he owns up to being intrigued by Ayinger’s esteemed Celebrator Doppelbock and Spaten’s equally fine Optimator. Admitting he learned more in ten months visiting Europe after high school than he would’ve attending four years of college, the seasoned brewer confesses the trip was not necessarily done to ascertain ancient European brewing techniques, but instead to peruse the continent as a relative greenhorn readying for the world. Now teamed up with former Jersey public servants, Gilhooly and Feeley, the spirited trio has rescued Newark’s long-dormant brewpub scene.
As Jersey’s newest brewpub, Port 44’s ultimate success will hopefully enable other local brewers to create friendly competition. It took time, but Brooklyn Brewery inspired craft beer newcomers Sixpoint and Kelso after a decade of prosperity. So here’s a toast for Newark’s reawakened beer barons.
POST-SCRIPT: During March 2011 sojourn, discovered four more intoxicating beverages. This time, Sheehan joined in as I consumed his fab fare, listed from frisky pils to Irish Stout.
Easygoing Penalty Box Pils brought lemony orange tartness to subtle spiced hops, herbaceous whim, limestone chalking, vegetal astringency, and sawdust reminder. Pomegranate concentrate and lemongrass fueled Pomegranate Wheat, a dry-bodied delight with lemon-seeded raspberry vinaigrette acidity, sour cherry pucker, and blanched white wheat base.
Sheehan’s pleasantly “unorthodox” The Cailleach Scotch Ale tickled the nose with prickly hop spicing and placed peat-smoked caramel toasting at a distance.
Best bet: dry hop-charred barley-flaked Black Bodhran Irish Stout, a mocha-driven St. Patrick’s Day offering with kiln-roasted coffee entry given milk chocolate, Belgian chocolate, and chalky cocoa creaminess topping peanut-shelled walnut, Brazil nut, and hazelnut subsidy.
Upon May 2011 reinvestigation, I found Sheehan standing at the bar alone ‘round noon and started bustin’ his balls. But he wasn’t real lonely. He was entertaining a friend he’d met going to Denver’s Great America Beerfest who’d temporarily gone upstairs to check out more of the provincial oak-furnished stone-tiled ambience.
Alongside Sheehan, I consumed two newly crafted brews and one oak-aged rendition. In its oaken version, The Cailleach Scotch Ale gained complexity, affixing an earthen peat-smoked whiskey sentiment to raisin-pureed black cherry, prune, vanilla and chocolate sweetness.
Sheehan’s latest fave, Ziegelstadt Alt, retained a sharp dry-hopped orange compote resolve above dark-roasted caramel malts and light wheat husk, picking up tertiary boysenberry, red gooseberry, and evergreen lingonberry niche.
Creamier than most in its stylistic range, mellow Newark Bay IPA brought woody grassy-hopped dryness, tannic grape tartness and mild juniper bittering to orange-candied peach, apple, and pineapple illusions.
By time I exited, several cute Seton Hall law students from down the block were celebrating graduation with lighter-bodied suds such as citric-spiced Goldfinch Ale and grapefruit-peeled dry body Siren’s Wheat while the local business crowd arrived in full force.
SIGUR ROS SINGER, JONSI, ON THE ‘GO’
Able to reach wuthering heights with his majestic leggiero tenor, Jon Thor Birgisson, better known as Jonsi from established Icelandic band, Sigur Ros, is capable of leaving captivated admirers in a ravished hallucinatory state. Applying crooning whispers, frantic shrieks, siren shrills, and arpeggiated trembles to predominantly symphonic material, his stentorian voice soars beyond the galaxy.
Left to his own devices, the eloquent tenor’s temporarily moved away from the safe confines of his long-time Sigur Ros colleagues to hook up with intimate co-producing companion, Alex Somers, distinguished neo-Classical pianist-arranger, Nico Muhly, and perspicuously precocious percussionist, Samuli Kosminen. With stunning entrée, Go, these impulsive collaborators elevate Jonsi’s sterling reputation for revealing radiant tranquility apropos to the alien snowbound vistas encompassing his native northerly European country island.
In the beginning, Sigur Ros’ formative ’97 debut, Von, showed promise. But international success came awhile later with ‘01s superb Ageulis, where Jonsi’s angelic choirboy brooding and feverish mantra-like mysticism fronted gauzy interstellar dreamscapes of uncommon Epicurean splendor. Moving from mysterious slow-burn séances and ominously starker weepers to meditatively uplifting ethereality, its gloriously anesthetized serenity gave birth to some of the most impassioned post-millennium labyrinths.
Jonsi’s quavering sentimentality only got better with ‘02s caliginous follow-up, ( ), rendering strung-out lonesomeness above prettier melodies, deliberately slower-paced ballads, and expanded spectral illuminations. Increasing the alluringly theatrical ambient melancholia while descending into a nebulously glacial pace, ‘05s poignantly detailed concerto, Takk, found Sigur Ros delivering their most plaintively fragile elegies yet.
By Sigur Ros’ fifth studio album, ‘08s broader Med Sud I Eyrum Vid Spilum Endalaust, Jonsi’s rapturous baroque jubilance overrides the cavernous funereal melodramatics in more conventional bass-pulsing beat-driven settings. Its whimsical opener, “Gobbledigook,” is an acoustic guitar-spangled quick one that slips out of archetypal straight-faced string-laced classical piano mode. Staying carefree, fanciful childlike xylophone lullaby, “Inni Mer Syngur Vit Laysi Ngur,” exceedingly verifies the joyful pomp. After crossing into heavenly transcendental psychedelia on elliptical requiem, “Godan Dag Inn,” triumphant brass-armored goosestep, “Vid Spilum Endalaust,” reconfirms the fervid foursome’s previously unearthed fulsome frolic.
Before taking a break so Jonsi’s partners could start families, Sigus Ros had received commercial, movie, and TV show endorsements, an unanticipated event considering the bands’ non-conformist operatic approach and remote homeland. But Jonsi stayed busy. His low-key instrumental project with Somers (‘09s Riceboy Sleeps) and a couple of Jonsi-Somers photograph books surfaced. Eventually convinced to sing in English instead of Icelandic (or his own made-up gibberish, Hopelandic), Jonsi’s compellingly emotional alto tenor blossomed further via 2010’s crystalline pop abstraction, Go.
On Go’s somniferous tom-stomped penny-whistled overture, “Go Do,” a full-on rhythm appropriates the yin and yang soft-loud profundity that saddles the less elegantly effervescent Sigur Ros-induced anecdotal strains befitting lilting orchestral retrenchment, “Tornado.” Lithesome new waved rave, “Animal Arithmetic,” and gleaming bushy-tailed enticement, “Boy Lilikoi,” counter-actively magnify the calming resonance and perfect stillness of falsetto-bound shudder, “Sinking Friendships,” buzz-swirled noir veer “Kolnidur,” stirring climactic peak, “Grow Till Tall,” and flickering closer, “Hengilas.”
An impressive step forward, Jonsi’s ventured into the future without forgetting his past. While Somers and Nico Muhly (a Philip Glass protégé) bring celeste and glockenspiel to the table, Samuli Kosminen’s kalimba adds a newfound exotic eccentricity to the Reykjavik native’s solipsistic solitaire sprees and wondrous wailing wanderings. Yet the clarinet, oboe, bassoon, and trombone that backup Jonsi’s side troupe would easily fit inside Sigur Ros’ oeuvre.
Anyway, it’s all part of Jonsi’s revelatory ‘acousmatic’ music.
Who were some early influences? Did your parents enjoy music?
JONSI: My first musical memory was playing the Beatles “Twist & Shout” on the fast speed of my parents’ stereo. Of course, I grew up with heavy metal like AC/DC and Metallica. When I got older, through my parents record club, I started listening to Deep Purple, Black Sabbath, and Uriah Heep.
It’s ironic you claim metal as a primordial inspiration since your own narcotic opuses are often in direct opposition to those loud guitar-based jams. Your own music is nearly operatic.
(laughter) Yeah. I think you grab stuff from music you like. From metal, you draw on energy and power. But also, you want to draw from beautiful melodies too.
Do you find this solo endeavor, Go, to be a true extension of Sigur Ros’ dramatically intense concertos? If not, what are some differences?
I write a lot of music by myself. So I wanted to do this now while Sigur Ros had a break since all the members had babies. I decided the timing was perfect. The main difference is working with different artists and musicians – something I’d never done before. Nico Muhly, and American composer, arranged the brass and strings and played piano. That was exciting for me. We worked fast and spontaneously. I like to work fast. Also, the drummer, Samuli Kosminen, didn’t have much time. But he went to the studio and hadn’t heard the songs before and just started improvising until you come into some cool stuff. It kept things exciting.
You also hooked up with busy Connecticut-based producer, Peter Katis. He’s worked with many indie pop-rock bands. How’d he affect Go? Did he make it more approachable?
He’s a great engineer, talented at documenting sounds put in front of him. It sounds good and I’m happy how he recorded it. He brought real good ideas to the table. He knew how to produce songs. It was fun to work with him.
Has Iceland’s isolation away from the rest of the world helped you create such tremendously forlorn rural vistas?
Probably. I’ve never lived anywhere else. I live in the big city, Reykjavik, which has only 180,000 people. It’s tiny compares to, say, New York. I think you have a lot of space to work in and nothing to block your view. It was great to grow up there. But I think it’d be really fun to live in New York City and make music there.
The third Sigur Ros album, ( ), depicted strung-out loneliness and slower paced ballads that seem to counter the uplifting charm of Go.
Definitely. That’s a fair description. During the ‘brackets’ LP, we were living through this phase in our lives. We had to record these songs we’d been playing for many years and we were kind of tired of them in a way. It was hard to record that album. Also, we had done some talking to record labels. That wears you down. We weren’t in the best headspace. This album is completely different. It’s colorful, playful, and energetic in a different way. The main thing was working outside the band. I had worked with the same group for sixteen years. So it was liberating. It was a healthy experience. I had never written English lyrics before so that was a challenge. My English vocabulary isn’t that big.
The darkest song on Go may be “Kolnidur, where dusky piano and a lush near-falsetto lamentation contrast soothing strings.
Kolnidur means pitch black in Icelandic. It is dark lyrically. Wolves are howling and something’s lurking around in the background. It’s mainly about the fears you have in the pit of your stomach.
Lead track, “Go Do,” reminded me of heralded ‘80s new wave artists Yaz, Alison Moyet, and Erasure.
I have no clue who the first two are. But Erasure was an amazing band. “Go Do” is a four-on-the-floor beat-driven pop song. Our drummer, Samuli, is so talented. He turned up in the studio with a suitcase full of shit, like tin cans and trashy drums. He even played on his suitcase.
The most popular cut, “Boy Lilikoi,” features gorgeous crescendos. What’s that song about?
Lilikoi means passion fruit. I got inspired by a trip Alex and I made to Hawaii to work on instrumental project, Riceboy Sleeps. It was the nature and the trees. In Iceland, nothing grows. You have to control the forest and the plants.
Your alto tenor on “Around Us” recalled Jon Anderson of prog-rock legends, Yes. Are you familiar with them?
I haven’t listened to Yes. I’ve heard of King Crimson, but not Yes. They sound interesting.
I’ve noticed there is a loose theme emerging on each Sigur Ros album. Did the solo album attempt to have a core concept?
In Sigur Ros, we thought a lot about the flow. But it’s usually not that thematic. But the more you think about it, the closer we came to having a small theme from the group of songs we used.
Have you ever considered doing opera?
No. I kind of hate opera. In my mind, Classical opera seems a little silly, formal, and stiff. But a few years back when I was touring I used to collect these recordings of opera and really liked these old recordings probably because of the recording quality. One of my favorites is a singer, Alesandro Morrisette. He’s a castrato. You know, a guy who sounds like his balls were cut off. I was really into him. It’s an amazing 1904 recording.
WILD GOOSE XPA EXTRA PALE ALE
Bright citric nosing and dark-spiced crystal malting front-end tepid rye-breaded English-styled dry body. Flat earthen vegetal nature wearily downgrades dulled-out nuttiness and phenol hop-blotched pungency further.
(TWO BROTHERS) LONG HAUL SESSION ALE
Disappointing moderate-bodied English-styled mild ale aged in French Oak Foudres never takes off. Dryly tinny copper ale nebulousness negatively affects plastic-coated cocoa-fig conflux to oaken vanilla Melba toast spine. Dim apple-orange-peach muting and low hop count frustrate as well.
TAPS VIENNA LAGER
Disturbing Turkish moderate body retains nasty compost waft, off-putting vegetal dredge, and lemon-rotted tangerine souring. Astringent grassy hop swamping, mild cabbage skunking and musty yeast unpleasantness confine crisp water flow. Skip.
TAPS SMOKE LAGER
Vapid beechwood-smoked Band-aid-wafted soaping and fizzy lemon tartness retreat hastily. In need of better wood-burnt hop graining. Like all Taps brews, it lacks firm body and rich construct.