Leland Sundries

“Hey Self-Defeater”

(This is the final part of a series of essays on the songs from ‘The Apothecary EP

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OK, first off, we put “Celebration, Florida” (apparently a pre-fab community) into this song well before the Felice Brothers titled their album that. Second of all, we didn’t know about the Mark Mulcahy song (which actually uses the term in the refrain unlike our song).

All of the mid- and early-20th century imagery denotes a guy left behind. His touchstones have aren’t relevant anymore. And who knows if that girl he pines after even thinks of him at all or if she’s moved on. He doesn’t relate to her intellectual pretensions or her sense of hopeful adventurousness. I hope that, like a lot of our music, it asks questions about authenticity of experience in a world of irony; the divisions between people, both real and artificial; and absurdity to the point of existentialism. (I hope.)

This song has undergone different guises from garage rocker to folky ballad. As my friend and sometime tour partner Will Levith has pointed out, the main riff could fit in on a Son Volt record. I had the music well before the lyrics, when I was listening to quite a bit of early Farrar and Tweedy.

An earlier version of the band worked on this one. We had laid it down in the studio with a distorted Stratocaster as the rhythm guitar but that didn’t leave any room to breathe so we stripped it away again. Thank god that we recorded the electric rhythm guitar direct, to kick off the song. I knew this song needed to have layers and new instruments coming and go to keep it afloat, so we added the banjo (on one that barely stays in tune) and I sat on the floor and did about nine overdub takes on the Rhodes, which really ties the whole thing together. Joe Lops created a genius electric guitar part that hangs there in a fog of reverb.

About some of the details in the lyrics:

• The Chanticleer Motor Lodge is a real place in upstate New York, near Lake George, with an amazing ’50s-era sign. I didn’t stay there but did take a picture.
• The frozen turkey comes from Woody Allen’s “Broadway Danny Rose” and I always found it so sad when the main character microwaves his Thanksgiving dinner.
• My friend Alex actually used to own a French car.
• I never saw the world’s largest banjo but I briefly lived a few blocks from the country’s second biggest chair in Aniston, Alabama.
• The curly-haired boy that all the folk-singing girls love came from a combination my thinking of another friend and sometime tour mate, Dan Kaplan; and a New York Pinewood Folk Music Club concert where a young fiddle player stepped out and one could see all the girls sit up a little bit straighter looking at him. It was at church basement in Manhattan and was a memorial for a longtime member and father who passed away.
• Nelson Street is in Greenville, Mississippi and was a center for blues playing and juke joints. It’s largely shuttered now.
• The 2:19 is a reference to “Trouble In Mind,” in which the narrator pledges, “I’m gonna lay me head; on some lonesome railroad line; let the 2:19 train; ease my trouble in mind.”
• “Creole Belle” was a song that I first heard sung in Aniston, Alabama by a marine dropout alcoholic with whom I played cards. He didn’t know a lot of songs but this Mississippi John Hurt classic was one of his favorites. It’s become one of mine too. He had one of those epic southern names but I can’t remember it now.
• Where the ferry used to stop is a reference to Greenpoint, Brooklyn, though there’s a new ferry now. Greenpoint Coffee House (which closed a few years ago) had a copy of the article on the wall about when the ferry stopped running to Greenpoint before World War II.
• Red Hook, Brooklyn has a loading dock with a sign that reads, Welcome to American Stevedoring. I hadn’t heard the term until Gregory Mulkern explained it to me. Seemed like a good profession for this character.

We don’t play this one live anymore but it could be due for a revival at some point.

“High On The Plains”

(This is another in a series of essays on songs from ‘The Apothecary EP.‘)

A friend told me the other day that this sounded like a song that the Stones should’ve written and I thought that was about the best thing that could be said about that song – and a huge compliment.

I remember toying with the chorus for a while and ran it by another friend at Matchless Bar. She changed, “Happy hour’s been over for hours and I ain’t been happy for hours” to the much better “Happy hour’s been over for hours and I ain’t been happy for days.” Made the whole thing click. (Her blog is completely brilliant and she’s the most rock ‘n roll person I know.)

I was rehearsing it a few months after I wrote it and trying to figure out how the verses came together. I’d read a New Yorker story about methamphetamine use in Wyoming. I think that feature must’ve informed the song. That and Barbara Ehrenreich’s book Nickel and Dimed. Some riveting moments in both. But I wasn’t thinking consciously about either of them when I started writing the lyrics. It occurred to me much later that one of the characters might also be trying to dodge the draft.

In the end, I think the recording has four guitars on it: a Keith Richards Japanese Telecaster, an acoustic, slide guitar on a ’70s Japanese beater, and a loaner early 1970s Strat doing lead. Adam C. Blake laid down a funky drum beat under it.

Since then, it’s moved from Eb to G and Chuck Berry, Mike Campbell, and Chuck Prophet inadvertently inspired a new guitar solo section that Dan Kaplan solidified. I played this tune solo in open G at Good Stuff Grocery in Marshall, North Carolina with a slide. I’m thinking of laying it down again as a single along with “Cincinnati Holiday Inn.”

Those two songs seem to fit together: two sloppy rock & rollers about guys who are down on their luck and trying to drink their way out of it.

LS on Bruce Springsteen’s “Hangin’ Out On E Street” YouTube series

Here is Leland Sundries’ version of Bruce Springsteen’s “Factory,” taped for Springsteen’s YouTube series Hangin’ Out On E Street and posted to his official YouTube channel:

October tour poster

(art by Dan Kaplan)

Blog Love From ElephantWhale

From ElephantWhale:

Leland Sundries is the mostly solo project of New York based Nick Loss-Eaton. He is re-branding Nashville’s original blues Americana with a touch of indie rock sarcasm.

Although he isn’t the first person to use a resonator guitar (see “Bon Iver”), it is a refreshing sound in a landscape of bands utilizing the same 3 piece set over and over. Leland Sundries has also been known to use a 2 string Cigar Box Guitar made in Memphis, giving his New York audiences the chance to experience something that few city kids even realize exists. Loss-Eaton also uses a megaphone-harmonica set up which captures the vintage-recording-scratchy echo that defines the original Americana sound for modern audiences.

For me, the cigar box was a sound that I had heard many times, but could never actually identify. Played with some hefty slide and nice backing guitars by Dan Kaplan, the Cigar Box was definitely my favorite surprise at the show. The stand out Leland Sundries song was “Giving Up Redheads” which according to insiders might just be Loss-Eaton’s favorite kind of lady. Touching on the classical theme of love-lost man, Leland Sundries takes the twang-y Americana sound and infuses it with a little bit of classic rock styling and extra energy.

Read on at ElephantWhale.

Image from Parkside Lounge, NYC

Black & white Polaroid by Rachelle Rae House.

Between the Pizzeria & the Ice Cream Parlor (tour reflections while reading Merle Haggard)

Offerings

I thought that Thursday night’s show felt like surfing. It needed constant adjustment, deviating from set lists and agreed song formats and leaving me open to moving the songs where they needed to go. Boston was all about solidifying the show and Northampton about tearing it apart again. Portland or Brattleboro may have been the best show thus far but Northampton had the best moments: changing the melody of “Cantankerous Baby” or stepping out from behind the mic to play resonator to a couple sitting outdoors. I hope the ice cream shop tonight feels like a three ring circus. I intend to do some barking into the megaphone. Saugerties will be about minimizing the production for a bookstore audience and giving the lyrics less of a frame. The week’s almost over and it just began.

Give Me Liberty or Give Me Rest

The people we’ve met have made the trip what it is. Tina dancing within a hula hoop to “Tell Me Mama,” Lonnie playing harmonica along with our set, seeing old friends who mean so much to me in Somerville, Julie and Ian and Rachael welcoming us to Portland, a few people each night looking to discover new music and listening to what we’ve concocted. This is what must be done. We pack up the car every morning, unpack it for every show, and pack it into wherever we sleep each night. Even now sitting in the shade of an oak, I want to get in the car and drive.

Main Streets and Alley Ways

Every town still has its own identity. Brattleboro feels like a hybrid of upstate New York and New England in an old mill town. Northampton gravitates creativity. Portland has a grit to it and a New England heartiness to withstand wind and rain. My old stomping grounds at Vassar College feel foreign but then again, they always felt a bit foreign. But performing on WVKR was a joy, like falling into an old couch. I intended to play 2-3 songs but probably played 5-6, including “Feel Like Going Home,” a song that John Work and Alan Lomax recorded by Muddy Waters in the early ‘40s. From what Dan says, this song is becoming an unexpected audience favorite since it’s my most slide intensive workout.

A Restlessness Undefined

The resonator feels more natural to me every day, the harmonicas like old friends. And these songs seem more and more like offerings to a restless spirit. I’m reading Merle Haggard’s book My House of Memories. He’s one of the great songwriters of all time. His devil-may-care attitude is a guiding spirit behind this trip, where our tour title has felt more and more true. This job joins finesse with sheer will and the undertow is magnetic. Through the prison breaks and freight trains and borrowed cars of his youth, Haggard always seemed to be seeking something but never finding it. His house was in the music itself and he writes of finding such peace while singing a Lefty Frizzell number. When my ambitions get the best of me, his singing reminds me of this.

7 Days (Burlington, VT) says…

Dan Bolles at 7 Days, an alt-weekly in Burlington, VT, writes, “We don’t give a lot of ink to The Purple Moon Pub in Waitsfield, but there’s a show this Tuesday that indie-folk fans will want to put on their radar. First up is quirky Brooklyn act Leland Sundries, which has some definitively Cracker-esque influences. The headlining act is a fellow named Dan Kaplan, whom discerning alt-country acolytes will remember from acclaimed outfit The Still. Not to be confused with Montréal’s The Stills, of course.”

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