Post by darkstar on Sept 10, 2005 13:49:59 GMT
Phoenix, Arizona - New Times - Music Section
REVOLVER
Native Son
Keith Secola gives new meaning to Americana
By Brendan Joel Kelley
Published: Thursday, September 8, 2005
Native Americana
American music is a rich tapestry of historical elements, often
evident in contemporary music. The White Stripes channel Delta blues
with Detroit garage; bluegrass elements figure into almost every alt-
country (or y'all-ternative) outfit's output; New Orleans jazz is co-
opted by post-prog rockers like the Mars Volta. But rarely do you
see Native American music -- certainly this continent's oldest
musical genre -- intermingled with rock 'n' roll, blues, country, or
other more modern forms.
It does exist, though, and one of the musicians at the forefront of
the Native mash-up, Keith Secola, lives right here in the Valley.
Secola can only be described as a national treasure, but most folks
around here have no clue about this rare cultural anomaly, despite
his having played the opening ceremonies of the 2002 Salt Lake City
Olympics and being featured on Fresh Air on NPR.
Native Americana, officially released this Friday, September 9, is
Secola's fifth full-length album -- a bouillabaisse of styles, all
integrated with American Indian flourishes, whether it's the rhythm,
the flute, or Secola singing in Ojibwa, as he does on his cover of
Woody Guthrie's "This Land."
Secola, whose face is craggy but gentle, with long black hair that's
showing a little gray, and aviator sunglasses, is from the Ojibwa
tribe and grew up in northern Minnesota, arriving here in the Valley
in 1984 with his wife, who's from the Ute tribe. While still in
Minnesota, where he graduated from the University of Minnesota at
Minneapolis, Secola worked as a language instructor, teaching Ojibwa
in federal programs.
Once he arrived in Arizona, he worked as an Indian education
specialist. "It was a good karma job," he says. "We helped secure
millions of dollars for the special culturally related educational
needs of Indian children. I did that for a while, then got to the
point where I decided children will listen to a guy with a guitar
case coming into the classroom rather than a briefcase. I just
switched cases, that's all."
Before he dedicated himself to music full time, Secola had recorded
a three-song cassette sampler with his song "NDN Kars" featured on
it, which would later become his first minor hit, and his signature
song. "I played at this Denver powwow kind of thing; we'd made about
a hundred of [the cassettes], and I sold them all and saw how it
could work. It was a cottage success."
Since then, Secola has been playing across the world when he's not
recording his albums, which he releases himself on his Akina Records
imprint (often with his Wild Band of Indians backing him, which has
a revolving-door membership). He flirted with the major-label scene
back in the '90s, but nothing came of it. "It just kind of fizzled --
'how do we market Indian rock 'n' roll?' they wondered.
"Having to do it myself was sort of a saving grace. Without their
non-support, I wouldn't have gotten so far believing in myself."
Secola's toured Europe and plays nearly every weekend in different
cities around the country and in Canada, but you're lucky to see him
play here in the Valley once a year or so. "You have to create a big
market," he explains. "You can only do so much in a city. You create
a circuit and play the same bars week after week going from one
suburb to the other, and there ain't that many clubs in this town.
You start to become taken for granted because you're always there."
He's planning a CD release party for Native Americana toward the end
of the year, possibly at a casino.
"Wild Javelinas" makes two appearances on Native Americana, one a
darker, end-of-album reprise. Secola says the song is about
his "love affair with the earth -- the marginal creatures, the
misunderstood desert pigs." In the reprise, the javelinas are
drinking tequila, stealing identities, and borrowing your wife's
car. "It's a song for the underdogs. Like the bottom feeders of
Tempe, the people you see out in the middle of the day when no one
should be out in the heat."
"Humility and the gospel of love are the things I want to teach on
this record," he adds, pointing out the song "Barnswallow," a paean
to the humble creature that sounds slightly like "Danke Schoen."
Original Doors drummer John Densmore appears on the record on "Sea
of Cortez" and "Kokopelli Blues" -- just one of Secola's influential
fans, who have also included Jerry Garcia and filmmaker Jim
Jarmusch. On "Kokopelli Blues," where Secola approximates a Tom
Waits-esque blues howler, Densmore's trapwork is instantly
recognizable.
"He hadn't been in the studio since the Doors," Secola said
proudly. "We rolled him out and he came in the studio with the same
kit he played on 'Light My Fire.' It was fun singing it to him, too,
rehearsing the night before, realizing his process of songwriting
included Jim Morrison sitting there bouncing ideas off of him."
Secola probably won't ever get placed in the pantheon of American
music near Morrison, but he certainly deserves a spot someplace
close by. Native Americana is just further proof that Keith Secola
is far more than a niche artist; he's an amalgamation of this
country's musical heritage.
www.phoenixnewtimes.com/Issues/2005-09-08/music/revolver.html
REVOLVER
Native Son
Keith Secola gives new meaning to Americana
By Brendan Joel Kelley
Published: Thursday, September 8, 2005
Native Americana
American music is a rich tapestry of historical elements, often
evident in contemporary music. The White Stripes channel Delta blues
with Detroit garage; bluegrass elements figure into almost every alt-
country (or y'all-ternative) outfit's output; New Orleans jazz is co-
opted by post-prog rockers like the Mars Volta. But rarely do you
see Native American music -- certainly this continent's oldest
musical genre -- intermingled with rock 'n' roll, blues, country, or
other more modern forms.
It does exist, though, and one of the musicians at the forefront of
the Native mash-up, Keith Secola, lives right here in the Valley.
Secola can only be described as a national treasure, but most folks
around here have no clue about this rare cultural anomaly, despite
his having played the opening ceremonies of the 2002 Salt Lake City
Olympics and being featured on Fresh Air on NPR.
Native Americana, officially released this Friday, September 9, is
Secola's fifth full-length album -- a bouillabaisse of styles, all
integrated with American Indian flourishes, whether it's the rhythm,
the flute, or Secola singing in Ojibwa, as he does on his cover of
Woody Guthrie's "This Land."
Secola, whose face is craggy but gentle, with long black hair that's
showing a little gray, and aviator sunglasses, is from the Ojibwa
tribe and grew up in northern Minnesota, arriving here in the Valley
in 1984 with his wife, who's from the Ute tribe. While still in
Minnesota, where he graduated from the University of Minnesota at
Minneapolis, Secola worked as a language instructor, teaching Ojibwa
in federal programs.
Once he arrived in Arizona, he worked as an Indian education
specialist. "It was a good karma job," he says. "We helped secure
millions of dollars for the special culturally related educational
needs of Indian children. I did that for a while, then got to the
point where I decided children will listen to a guy with a guitar
case coming into the classroom rather than a briefcase. I just
switched cases, that's all."
Before he dedicated himself to music full time, Secola had recorded
a three-song cassette sampler with his song "NDN Kars" featured on
it, which would later become his first minor hit, and his signature
song. "I played at this Denver powwow kind of thing; we'd made about
a hundred of [the cassettes], and I sold them all and saw how it
could work. It was a cottage success."
Since then, Secola has been playing across the world when he's not
recording his albums, which he releases himself on his Akina Records
imprint (often with his Wild Band of Indians backing him, which has
a revolving-door membership). He flirted with the major-label scene
back in the '90s, but nothing came of it. "It just kind of fizzled --
'how do we market Indian rock 'n' roll?' they wondered.
"Having to do it myself was sort of a saving grace. Without their
non-support, I wouldn't have gotten so far believing in myself."
Secola's toured Europe and plays nearly every weekend in different
cities around the country and in Canada, but you're lucky to see him
play here in the Valley once a year or so. "You have to create a big
market," he explains. "You can only do so much in a city. You create
a circuit and play the same bars week after week going from one
suburb to the other, and there ain't that many clubs in this town.
You start to become taken for granted because you're always there."
He's planning a CD release party for Native Americana toward the end
of the year, possibly at a casino.
"Wild Javelinas" makes two appearances on Native Americana, one a
darker, end-of-album reprise. Secola says the song is about
his "love affair with the earth -- the marginal creatures, the
misunderstood desert pigs." In the reprise, the javelinas are
drinking tequila, stealing identities, and borrowing your wife's
car. "It's a song for the underdogs. Like the bottom feeders of
Tempe, the people you see out in the middle of the day when no one
should be out in the heat."
"Humility and the gospel of love are the things I want to teach on
this record," he adds, pointing out the song "Barnswallow," a paean
to the humble creature that sounds slightly like "Danke Schoen."
Original Doors drummer John Densmore appears on the record on "Sea
of Cortez" and "Kokopelli Blues" -- just one of Secola's influential
fans, who have also included Jerry Garcia and filmmaker Jim
Jarmusch. On "Kokopelli Blues," where Secola approximates a Tom
Waits-esque blues howler, Densmore's trapwork is instantly
recognizable.
"He hadn't been in the studio since the Doors," Secola said
proudly. "We rolled him out and he came in the studio with the same
kit he played on 'Light My Fire.' It was fun singing it to him, too,
rehearsing the night before, realizing his process of songwriting
included Jim Morrison sitting there bouncing ideas off of him."
Secola probably won't ever get placed in the pantheon of American
music near Morrison, but he certainly deserves a spot someplace
close by. Native Americana is just further proof that Keith Secola
is far more than a niche artist; he's an amalgamation of this
country's musical heritage.
www.phoenixnewtimes.com/Issues/2005-09-08/music/revolver.html