Writing Sample 2009

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Bio: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/chris-campbell/#blogger_bio Wilco (The Album) http://www.huffingtonpost.com/chris-campbell/wilco-the-album_b_222089.html by Chris Campbell June 29, 2009 From 1967-1972, The Rolling Stones released Between the Buttons, Flowers, Beggars Banquet, Let It Bleed, Sticky Fingers, and Exile on Main St. Such a run can only be matched by The Beatles, who released their entire catalog in only seven years, and Bob Dylan, whose output from 1963-1969, represents the greatest run ever for a songwriter. Such consistent runs have been few-and-farbetween over the past 35+ years. R.E.M. were great for a little over a decade, but a few records during that period (e.g. Green) were bumps in an otherwise perfect ten-year run. When considering the premiere acts of today, critics and fans alike almost always point to Radiohead. But if you step back and look at the band's recorded material over its 16 years in existence, there are numerous missteps, most notably their 1993 debut Pablo Honey and the 2001 snoozer Amnesiac. Very good band? Sure. Deserving of a slot in the paragraph above? No.And then's there's Wilco. No, they're not held in the regard that Radiohead are, but when considering their output over their 15 year-career, well, they're the one band in its prime that might be deserving of the company above. Formed in 1994 following the hasty demise of the seminal alt.country outfit Uncle Tupelo, Wilco have now released seven studio records (nine if you count the Mermaid Avenue collaborations with Billy Bragg), and every single one has been met with critical adoration. 2002's Yankee Hotel Foxtrot is widely considered their best, but the balance of the catalog holds up alongside this near masterpiece. From the Brian Wilson inspired Summerteeth to the straightforward americana of Sky Blue Sky, Wilco have touched on just about every imaginable sound and direction, and in so doing, have miraculously held onto its fans from its rootsy early days while picking up listeners from many disparate worlds along their 15-year circuitous path.

This month brings the release of Wilco (The Album) (June 30th on Nonesuch), an album that rounds out a solid trifecta following Foxtrot. No, it doesn't have the ambition of Foxtrot or the bombast of 1996's Being There, but it's a beautiful collection of songs. "One Wing" is one of the better songs frontman Jeff Tweedy has penned in some time, while the pretty collaboration with iPod-star Feist "You and I," is perfectly timed as the centerpiece of the record. As you move past the midpoint mark you're greeted with one of the best songs the band's ever recorded in "I'll Fight," a song that incorporates religion, love, devotion and war. Or at least that's what we hear on the surface. But like most of Wilco's best works, the songs leave plenty of space for the listener to surmise his or her own meaning, which has been one of many hallmarks of Wilco's career. The records and the songs within feel less a creation of the band, and more a part of us. As Tweedy sings on the opening track, "A sonic shoulder for you to cry on, Wilco, Wilco will love you baby." And with one great record after another, it's hard for us to not return the sentiment.

A Job Lost, An Identity Reshaped http://www.huffingtonpost.com/chris-campbell/a-job-lost-an-identityre_b_178553.html by Chris Campbell March 26, 2009 Turn on any of the three major cable news networks, and you're sure to be greeted by somewhat hysterical anchors frenzied over AIG, Bernie Madoff and Tim Geithner, among many other soundbites to wrack our collective nerves. And what follows is usually the maniacal calls from the right, especially Eric Cantor, Rush and a slew of others, nitpicking at every single move made by the White House. When the New York Times' Thomas Friedman spoke recently of Republican House Leader Eric Cantor's exploitation of the AIG crisis, and asked, "Do you not have children?", that pretty much summed up my feelings on the behavior of many of our elected officials, both republican and democrat. This crisis, fiasco, collapse, end of the world, whatever you want to call it, is far too big to be wasting our time on pedantic and sophomoric diatribes from the likes of Cantor. And on the cable news front, they're equally culpable (yes, that includes Keith Olbermann and Rachel Maddow) for doing everything imaginable to paralyze a nation for the sake of ratings. They scoff and howl at corporate greed, yet the end goal in what they're delivering falls right in line with what they condemn. But lost in this all are the many aspects of this new reality that are never covered. This past weekend, I was able to witness one firsthand; an experience that I'm sure can be understood by millions of Americans. Early last week, while visiting my sister in New Jersey, I awoke to an e-mail from my girlfriend with the subject line "bad news." Given the topic of this post, I'm

sure you can guess the content of that e-mail. Five months ago, I lost my job, and now, she had fallen victim as well. But her situation was different. Whereas I was with a company for a short period of time and hadn't felt my identity shaped by this employer, she had worked for this company for over twelve years. Although she graduated near the top of her class from a top west coast university, she certainly didn't have your typical "drive for the top" mentality that, for better or worse, has been the American way, especially under #43. She was proud of her work, but work was only a small part of her life, a personality trait that played a large part in drawing me to her in first place. Unlike many overlycaffeinated Americans who constantly look to fast-track to the top, her interests extended far beyond her work life. In the past year, she finished up another degree in floral design, a field in which she has won national awards and she's an incredibly talented photographer and jewelry designer. I'm sure that if given full "career" focus, she could excel in any of these areas. And with free time now in front of her, she may do just that. This past Sunday, we drove downtown for one last visit to her office. After twelve years, she had a lot of boxing up to do. It had now been six days since she'd been laid off and up to this point, she had been calm, clear-minded and accepting. I figured that the trip to the office would be your run-of-the-mill filtering through files and drawers, copying of data to disc and the other stuff we quickly do when our tenure at a company swiftly ends. As we turned the corner that led to her office building she said that she wanted to do this alone. She asked if I could drop her off and return later in the day to help her haul her stuff out. After dropping her off outside her office, I found parking and decided to pay her a quick visit before leaving for the day. As we rode up the elevator, I could tell that some reality was finally hitting. It wasn't the financial stresses that were now building in our lives or fear of not being able to find work in the near term. Whatever it was, she remained quiet. As we stepped into her office and moved towards her work area, I saw the years of files, accomplishments, office Christmas cards with her photos on the cover, and knick knacks that adorned her workspace. These were projects and memories built over a decade. And in just a few hours, they would all be swept away. She started to cry. It wasn't a flood of tears, but rather a slow release of a few tears that seemed to be an acknowledgment of all that she'd experienced at this job. She'd made many friends, felt pride in her personal work and the work of the organization as a whole and respected her colleagues immensely. And these few hours would be her last. When the tears dried up, I thought it best to leave her for the day. As I headed for the door, I said, "By the way, you never even told me your exact title in marketing. What are you going to put on your resume?" She turned and after considering the question for a second said, "I never cared about that."

Benefits of Unemployment http://www.huffingtonpost.com/chris-campbell/benefits-ofunemployment_b_169592.html by Chris Campbell February 24, 2009 Just over four months ago, for the first time since wrapping up college in 1996, I found myself as part of the now ever-growing millions of Americans who find themselves unemployed. Unlike many of my jobless brethren, I was fortunate enough to have saved a little bit; a safety net that has now been tapped as the days without a paycheck and benefits grow longer and longer. When this new reality hit me, thanks to my little security blanket, I welcomed the uncertainty of what was to come. I didn't greet this free time with a desire to sit around lazily and waste away the days (though admittedly, I've done a bit of this), but rather to explore the things that I've always wanted to go after, namely writing and photography. I'd pursued both as hobbies in the past, but I figured that time off would afford me not just the time in hours and days, but the ability to let my creative mind, whatever there is of it, to finally have room to breathe and extend itself. And thus far, the experience, though inconsistent and at times mindbending, has been incredibly rewarding. The cliché "book that I've always wanted to write" is actually moving along. I've taken thousands of pictures and some are actually kind of good. And perhaps most importantly, I feel this time has allowed me to grow and have a better understanding of who I am and where I want to be. And then there's the free time for exploration outside of my own attempts at creativity. Whether working or not, music is never far from my ears. When employed, I listened on the way to and from work, at work, and most nights I'd fall off to sleep with those iPod buds still in my ears. But over the past four months, I've been able to explore way beyond what I could quickly and effortlessly find on eMusic or the bins of Amoeba. Although I knew their music at a surface level, I've finally been able to dig deep into artists such as Doug Sahm, George Jones, Sam Cooke and Mississippi John Hurt. Whether on the turntable, via my iPod or thanks to a YouTube clip, finally having the time to unearth some of the greatest music ever made has left a massive mark on me. Of course, there have been great books (tops being Mark Oliver Everett's memoir Things the Grandchildren Should Know) and movies (I recommend The Big Bad Swim and William Eggleston in the Real World), but many of the preeminent moments have been void of the media often necessary to keep my mind moving and inspired. There have been numerous day trips to small towns around the Bay Area where I'd simply walk around, grab some lunch and appreciate a community that was new to me. I've taken to running and the occasional euphoria that comes with a surge of energy that finds you tirelessly moving from street to street is something I haven't felt since my teens. I've gotten to know

some of my neighbors. My girlfriend and I have grown closer and closer and now sit on the verge of, well, let's leave some suspense there. I could go on and on. Although the bills now bring on increasing anxiety each month and I'm giving thought to ending monthly payments to COBRA, I wouldn't change the past few months for anything. No, I haven't been to a nice restaurant in as long as I can remember, the shirt I'm wearing right now was purchased sometime around the inauguration of the elder Bush, and I had to pass on Springsteen's upcoming show in San Jose, but as I type these final words in my local coffee shop, it's a beautiful day outside, Wilco's streaming through the headphones and the park's a block away. Days of Our Lives http://www.huffingtonpost.com/chris-campbell/days-of-our-lives_b_162869.html by Chris Campbell February 1, 2009 The moments we never forget: they can run from the mundane, to the personal, to the hallmarks that we share with many. I will certainly never forget the utter exhilaration I shared with thousands while standing in the right field bleachers as Tino Martinez’s long fly cleared the wall with two out in the bottom of the ninth of Game 4 of the 2001 World Series. There was the first time I saw Bruce Springsteen at Giants Stadium in 1985 and felt the magic of rock n’ roll pouring through my suddenly spellbound mind. There were the few minutes in Ponte Vedre, Florida when the sunrise combined with the sound of Son Volt’s “Windfall” streaming through my iPod summoned a feeling I’d never felt before. Of course, not all of these imprints are positive memories. There was the moment I sat on the F Train in Brooklyn, turned my head from the newspaper to the window and witnessed one of the twin towers burning from above. It was about an hour later that I watched a tower fall along with hundreds of others outside the CBS Building on the edge of Central Park. At about 3pm on the same afternoon, as I walked from block-to-block with no destination in mind, I recall stopping in my tracks and witnessing middle-aged women having their nails and toes polished while the rest of the world was glued to the horrors occurring in New York, Washington and rural Pennsylvania. These episodes, having all happened within just a few hours of each other, are etched in my mind forever. And then there was the day of December 12, 2000. The mainstream media has long since forgotten this day, but I can never erase the feeling that our democracy was beginning to crumble when five Supreme Court justices handed the presidency to George W. Bush. My unwavering support of Al Gore was less a manifestation of party lines, and more a gut-feeling about what drove these two people. I’d read countless articles about Gore’s passion for the planet and Tipper’s desire to raise awareness to the struggles and stigmas around mental

illness. As I watched the debates and followed their campaigns, there were intangibles within their personalities that made the choice absolutely clear to me. I will never forget sitting in my cubicle at a cable network as the television that hung in the hallway revealed the Court’s decision. The woman behind me let out an expletive while my head hit my hands on the desk. I had a deep mistrust of Bush from the outset, and the news being reported made his presidency a reality. What’s happened since that day has been an American travesty. Iraq. Katrina. Abu Ghraib. Guantanamo. We’ve all heard it again and again, but for me, and many of us, it was that afternoon in mid-December of 2000 that represents the moment that this country took an extreme pivot. The decision handed down by our highest court, set the stage for a presidency that altogether discounted our democratic ideals, the rule of law, and even the most basic ethics. Fast forward to the night of November 4, 2008. The instant that MSNBC declared Barack Obama the winner, I sat almost motionless. I then rose from the couch and embraced my girlfriend, but the magnitude of what was happening was still days, if not weeks away, from truly settling in. I turned from one station to the next to hear the calls over and over. And then I went online. When I picked up the paper the following morning, I still couldn’t believe it. As the weeks passed, every story about the “transition” reminded me that, yes, Barack Hussein Obama had indeed won. And when I was finally able to grasp this, I kept reverting back to the chorus of network calls at 8pm on that first Tuesday in November. Barack Obama has held the office of the presidency for less than two weeks now. In that short span of time, our new leader has touched his pen to paper repeatedly and begun the process of reversing many of the ills delivered by the Bush Administration. Whether it’s for workers rights or the closing of a shameful prison, with every swipe of the pen, our president restores my faith in a democracy that seemed teetering for almost a decade. And just like a historic home run or a song that captures your spirit, I’m certain that our new president will leave marks that will last a lifetime. Obama and the Arts http://www.huffingtonpost.com/chris-campbell/obama-and-thearts_b_161321.html by Chris Campbell January 27, 2009 Lost in the inaugural hoopla, and those little problems that Obama’s now responsible for fixing, is the fact that we now have a president who cites Dylan, Coltrane, Springsteen and Wilco as some of his favorite musicians. With this kind of taste, you’d think that our president is crafting policy in one of the hipster dive bars of Brooklyn or San Francisco. I mean, how cool can this guy be?

When it came to his campaign, the support ranged from huge acts in arenas down to local acts in the ‘burbs. And we’re not talking the kind of cookie-cutter country acts who supported Bush and McCain, but rather artists with credibility such as Arcade Fire, Common and Jenny Lewis. Over the course of his two-year run to the White House, I don’t think I attended a concert without some sign of Obama throughout the band’s set. Whether it was a bassist wearing a tight Obama tee, a few quips in between songs or a banner the size of Fenway’s green monster, Obama was everywhere. We’re now hearing a growing chorus, led by legendary music-icon Quincy Jones, calling for a Secretary of the Arts. When I first heard this idea I chuckled. I mean, when you consider the economy, the wars, health care, the environment and the near endless array of challenges facing the Obama administration, I can’t imagine our government finding even a second to consider such a position. Then I remembered the role musicians, actors, writers and other artists played not just in helping to craft and deliver Obama’s vision to millions of suddenly hungry voters, but I considered the relentless blows that the arts have taken over the past decade or so. Music sales have plummeted while being led by an old guard of industry execs who have refused to adapt. Book publishers are laying off staff left and right and the local bookstore is nearly a thing of the past. The film industry is probably in the best position, but aside from this year, it’s usually the big-budget watered-down mindless garbage that keeps the industry moving along. Yes, most industries are adapting and evolving during these uncertain times, but the arts have been in flux for years and years, long preceding Bush and Wall Street’s dismantling of the economy. In order to keep the arts alive, the corporations that have the largest shares of the overall pie have turned away from creativity and development and supported the quickest hit song, the movie with the grandest explosions and the book whose words summoned the least amount of curiosity. It’s certainly possible that somewhere out there is a voice as powerful as Sam Cooke, a mind as deep as Faulkner and a vision as magnificent as Kubrick. But times are different, and without the support, encouragement and thoughtful development of folks who see more than just dollars as the end all, those voices may remain quiet, those words may never be shared and those screens may be blank. Barack Obama is clearly a man of the arts, possibly more so than any other president in our history. In addition to the musicians mentioned above, he’s found inspiration and meaning in the writings of Melville and Morrison and films such as The Godfather and One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. And with the arts in such a state of disarray, perhaps Quincy’s right. If we don’t collectively find ways to nurture and support the arts, the downward spiral of the past decade or so will

only continue. And similar to the many pressing issues of the day, if we allow this to happen, the consequences could be devastating.

Josh Ritter's Conquests http://www.jambase.com/Articles/11918/Josh-Ritter%27s-Conquests By Chris Campbell November 20, 2007 When I first heard Josh Ritter's new record The Historical Conquests of Josh Ritter (released August 21 by SonyBMG), I was left nearly speechless. It was the first record in probably a decade that nailed me at the core. It was part Bob Dylan circa Highway 61 Revisited, part Brian Wilson and part Nick Drake, yet it was completely fresh and original - sprawling, loud, angry, despondent, depressing, uplifting, heartfelt and just about every other emotion. I had the same feeling in my gut the first time I heard Bruce Springsteen's Born To Run and Richard Buckner's Devotion & Doubt. After a few months of absorbing this masterpiece, nothing has changed. Every time I listen, I find something new - an outstanding line, a startling musical progression. One song proves impossible not to sing while walking down the street, while another causes me to pause and ponder something existential. I can't remember the last time I experienced a piece of art – be it music, literature or film - that elicited so much in me. I fully realize this may sound like hyperbole but after months of letting this record seep into me I can say with certainty that this feeling isn't going away anytime soon. On a beautiful San Francisco day in late October, JamBase had the opportunity to sit down with Ritter prior to his performance at Bimbo's 365 Club. As the band got ready inside, Ritter and I sat on his tour bus to talk. His demeanor immediately put me at ease, and his sense of humor and appreciation for his fans only enhanced my appreciation for his art. JB: Let's hear your thoughts on the new record. JR: I had it in my head that when I made The Animal Years that I'd want to make a totally different record after that. That was partially because a record you make that has a specific motive in your own mind you can't really do it over again. You don't want to make that same record by mistake. So, when it came time to make Conquests, I had to take my hands off the wheel and make a record that was fun.

It wasn't about explaining anything to myself. As it turns out, I [usually] look back and say, "This is something that I could've held onto a little harder." Like I didn't hold onto the idea hard enough. This was the first record where I felt like everything was set up - from working with Sam [Kassirer, producer and keyboardist on Conquests], to the place we recorded, to the situation I was in at the time - to make a record that was my own idea. It was all mine. JB: And you were in-between labels at the time, right? JR: I was in-between labels. I felt like I had nothing to prove. I had written as complex as I wanted to do on The Animal Years. I felt like I could just go and write. JB: Would you call this a concept album? JR: I try and stay away from concept albums. In a lot of ways, they harness a song to an idea rather than an idea to a song. I feel like, well, this is my country record, but maybe it would've been something else if you hadn't forced it into that situation. On each record, themes pop up that surprise me. Each record has images that come to the front. On Hello Starling, it was all windows. The last record [The Animal Years] was Southern Illinois. This record, I think about those pictures of the fool on tarot cards. He's kind of walking along the edge of a cliff. He's reaching for something. You don't know if he's at the edge of the cliff, if he's walking along it or if he's just going to careen. I think a lot of the stuff on this record is that moment [where] a fight's about to start, you're about to fall in love, you're about to press the button. It's the immediacy that I really wanted to have. It's not so much a concept [as] some symbols that came out, like a political record. Records don't have to be political consciously to be about the politics of the time. We write about what we see, what's happening around us. JB: I read that you mentioned writers such as Paul Auster and Raymond Carver, as well as Christopher Hitchens and Thomas Ricks as influences. How do writers of fiction versus writers of current events influence you? JR: Every idea we put in our head influences us. I don't think I've picked up a book in ten years without hoping that it wouldn't push me towards a song. If you're pouring in ingredients you're going to make something. Sitting down and writing a song about [Thomas E.] Ricks' Fiasco [The American Military Adventure in Iraq] would be kind of backwards for me. You have to pour it out and mix that in with whatever else. It works best if you don't lend yourself into a specific style or genre. You move all over and all those things mix up. JB: Switching gears, I saw you on YouTube at the Springsteen tribute. I then read that you met Springsteen that night. Was this the first time that you met?

JR: Yeah. It was right as I was about to go on and someone put their hand on my shoulder. I was freaking because Patti Smith was about to go on. And Carnegie Hall was amazing. It was just a pleasure to meet him. I really don't feel like I have to meet any of the people I love like that. How do you like the new Springsteen record? JB: I'm mixed. I love "Terry's Song" but I need to listen to the album more. JR: He's certainly never made himself into a coffee table gig. JB: Exactly. He still does right by his fans. I actually first heard Springsteen when I was about five. That's what led me into this industry. JR: My dad bought my mom Sgt. Pepper's when I was ten. The record came out four days before my parents got married. JB: What about the covers you're playing? What made you choose Springsteen's "The River?" JR: Well, I played that at the Springsteen tribute. It's kind of about the changes that happen in your life. It's kind of like the sublime moment where you know something's happening and you have no power. You're the witness to your own part in it [and] you have no power to change it and you know it's going to affect you. It's the power to see the immediate future. That's what Springsteen's songs are about to me. It's just a killer. "Body tan down at the reservoir." All of The River is an amazing record, that and "Stolen Car." I feel like "The River" is the ultimate for me. JB: What about playing solo versus with the band? JR: Both are necessary, I think. I started playing solo. The energy's very different. With a solo show, you have a cable that connects you and the audience. They're really pushing you forward into the audience and back. It's much more amorphous. I really enjoy it. Playing with a band, I can create a whole new set of emotions that I couldn't do on my own. But nothing gets you sharper than playing solo. At the same time, you can't even approach the highs you get playing with a band. JB: What about the references to the band in the song "Rumors?" JR: I was mostly listening to hip-hop when making the record - Biggie, Lupe Fiasco and Jay-Z. There's violence in it but there's always a wink behind it all. There's some funny stuff in there. It's very dark and strange but it's also super creative. I like that cohesive unit of someone in a band, like me and my friends are going to fuck you up. But, there's always a total wink behind it. I like that feeling of capturing a whole different sound and song. It's like you climbed a

fence and you're in a whole new pasture that's all your own. It feels like someone's handing you a balloon. JB: Like on "Mind's Eye" it sounds like you're pissed. JR: There is [anger] but you can't tie yourself totally to a character. It's more fun than being yourself, and a lot of the time, much more satisfying artistically. It's not so much anger as getting into the feeling. Okay, yes it is anger [laughs]. It's never satisfying staying that mad for that long. JB: What about "The Temptation of Adam?" JR: I didn't write that in the studio. That was a lucky one that came into my head. It felt like a play or a short story. I wrote about eight drafts, all the symbols that are there. It's supposed to be a song about regular people. The situation is fantastical, like the Garden of Eden or fish in an aquarium, but it's just a couple people falling in love, but realizing that real life is creeping in. JB: How is it now being on a major label? JR: I think these guys [SonyBMG] are doing a kick-ass job. I talked to a lot of people but I figured why not? I wanted the record to come out this year. I wanted people who know how to sell a lot of records, but I wanted someone to leave the art side to me, and they're letting me do that. Whether you're on a tiny label or a big label, you pay to play. They haven't tried to direct me. I think it's hard these days for a record label to start a new act. You have to work with a label. You have to do a lot of legwork. It's so easy to blame the majors but at the end of the day you're the person in charge of your career. Not to say that they're saints but the people I'm working with are doing an amazing job. JB: Last night I was writing these questions and listening to "Empty Hearts" and there was a moment where I got choked up. What is it like knowing you can impact your fans that much? JR: It feels like a fairly new thing. When I first started selling my records and doing open mikes, if I could sell a couple I was over the moon. I really needed the money. When somebody bought a record that was money in my pocket. I never really thought that they'd listen to the record. I mostly thought they were being nice. People who actually go out and buy records still, that's incredible because you don't have to anymore. The thing that you hope to do is have something be accepted in the spirit that it's offered. You kind of have to write to yourself, saying the things that you need to hear for yourself. And you try to write it in a generous enough way that other people can see themselves in that same situation. Leonard Cohen said that you shouldn't be the one declaiming it. People shouldn't be thinking about you but the poem. If people are influenced or involved in the songs it's because I was lucky enough to say something the right way for

myself. Then when I'm onstage, I really want to influence people. I want people to feel things when they come to a show. But, when I'm writing I try to say things for myself the way I would want them said to me. Josh Rouse :: 09.27.07 :: The Independent :: San Francisco, CA http://www.jambase.com/Articles/11624/Josh-Rouse-09.27.07-SF Words & Images by: Chris Campbell September 27, 2007 As winter turned to spring in 2002, I was sitting in a friend's apartment in Brooklyn when he rushed to his CD player to share his favorite new record with me. He wouldn't tell me the artist's name. After four or five songs, I turned to my buddy and said, "I've heard this voice before but not like this." The record was Josh Rouse's Under Cold Blue Stars. I'd seen Rouse open for Son Volt at some point in the late '90s but his performance didn't leave much of a mark. This all changed that frigid day in the Cobble Hill section of Brooklyn. This record floored me, and I listened to it front-to-back for about six months straight. Then came Rouse's masterstroke, 2003's 1972. Rouse took a risk with 1972 by attempting to capture the sound of the early '70s. The record held the groove of an Al Green classic complimented by songwriting reminiscent of some of the greatest singer-songwriters of that era, delivered with the honesty of Nick Drake or Elliott Smith. This record could get your foot stomping, while also moving you to tears. It was a soul record penned by a young Jackson Browne. Since 1972, Rouse's output has been a bit less consistent. Nashville was a strong follow-up, while Subtitulo had a few superb moments it seemed rushed. Now touring in support of the somewhat fractured Country Mouse, City House (released 7/31/07 on Nettwerk Records), Rouse has traveled from his new home in Spain to bring his live act back to the States. Make no mistake, since the early part of this decade Rouse has established himself as a masterful live performer. He alternates between touring with a full band and hitting the road solo. Both settings have proven that Rouse has a ton of charisma onstage and a little bit of that Springsteen-esque confidence that can rope in a crowd, resulting in sing-a-longs, clap-a-longs and a full command over those in attendance. While making his way West, Rouse and his band played a memorable show at San Francisco's Independent. The show opened with a few new tracks, which came off much stronger live than on record, but it wasn't until his earlier material, most notably "Comeback" and "Live Vibration" that the audience was hooked. Once he had the audience locked in, there was little that Rouse could do wrong. His stellar back-catalogue songs, including "My Love Has Gone," "Carolina,"

"1972" and the mesmerizing "Streetlights," had the joyous crowd dancing, singing along and fully engaged. With the audience thirsting for more, Rouse delivered one of the more impressive encores I've seen in ages. With the excitement flowing, I couldn't help but yell out for "Quiet Town." Not one second later, Rouse granted my request and crept into one of his most beautiful songs. This was followed by the early gem "Directions," a straightforward rocker about abandoning your immature past and growing up a notion that mirror's Rouse's maturation as an artist and performer. As we came down from the high of this rocker, Rouse closed out the night with the heartbreaking, yet ultimately uplifting "Sad Eyes." With unabashed confidence, midway through, Rouse turned the mike to the crowd and let them fill the chorus before the band exploded through the song's conclusion. It was a beautiful moment by an artist who continues to deliver on so many levels.

Marah Theatre of the Living Arts, Philadelphia, PA, March 24, 2000 by Chris Campbell May – June, 2000 Back from an exhausting few days of industry schmoozing in Austin at the South by Southwest Festival, Marah returned to the city of the Mummers for their “official” Kids In Philly CD release party. Marah seemed as if they were going to blare into Springsteen’s “E Street Shuffle”. Over the years, Marah’s main attraction has been their “let’s just rock” attitude – sometimes appearing too drunk, other times looking worn, but always as passionate as youthful rock n’ roll is meant to be. Taking the stage with the crowd buzzing and a full horn section in town, the brothers Bielanko – plus a solid new rhythm section – were a little more polished than usual. Not that they lacked the spunk and heart that is the cornerstone of their music, but they seemed a little less like kids, and more like a maturing band. Blasting through two sets, Marah handed out a gritty entrée of tunes from Kids In Philly. From the foot-stomping beat of “Faraway You” to the sprawling, Stonesy “History of Where Someone Has Been Killed” to the local flavor of “Christian Street”, the new songs were performed with guts and soul. They even pleased the die-hards with a rare showing of the Phillies baseball-inspired “Rain Delay”

from their debut disc, as well as the timeless classic “Formula, Collar, Dollar Draft” that had all the locals singing along. Could there be anything more? It had only begun. A couple members of The Jayhawks watched in the wings, but Steve Earle – whose label, E-Squared, released Kids In Philly – took the stage to join the band for a couple tunes. They delivered a haunting yet rocking take on Springsteen’s “State Trooper”, the title track from Earle’s forthcoming release Transcendental Blues; and another Earle number, “West Nashville Boogie”. After Earle departed, Marah paid tribute to The Replacements by tackling the Pleased To Meet Me album-closer “Can’t Hardly Wait”. A fitting choice, given that these guys exhibit much of the childlike abandon Westerberg and his pals once did. Prophetic words when Dave and Serge Bielanko wrote “Livin’ on the Road” from the Black Dog Summer Camp collaborative record a few years ago. The days of camping around in Philly clubs seem to be over; these kids in Philly are ready to grow up.