Tucson singer-songwriter Katie Haverly and her band The Aviary played the Che’s Lounge patio last Sunday night, treating listeners to pleasant reverie. The group performed two sets of mostly Haverly’s songs, including new tunes from their upcoming album, and a pair of covers; Joni Mitchell’s “Coyote” and The Police’s “Synchronicity.” 

Haverly dove into “Natural Disaster” early in the set. (It’s from her ’15 album, Aviary). Her soulful voice functioned as a conduit for the song’s raw emotion. Ace guitarist Ben Nisbet went off menu, reshaping the parts, while nimble-fingered bassist Chris Pierce and trapsman Tom Beech furrowed deep backbeats. The mournful song expanded into a sweet jam.

The quartet left a sonic debris trail with uptempo rocker “Something.” “[Something] is going to be the first music video off our new album,” Haverly said. On the downtempo “New York” (another new one) Haverly ruminated on her life there, ghosts she’d left behind.


“Mess” was downright transformative. The heartrending, country-tinged beauty draws inspiration from a series of works by artist Manfred Bockelmann: Drawing Against Oblivion, a requiem to children murdered by Nazis. A lone couple rose to dance.

Veiled in metaphor, with its sophisticated jazz chords, the electric piano-driven “Pluto,” details our current political climate from Haverly’s songwriterly vantage. “Do you want to know a secret?” She says. “Pluto is metaphor for Donald Trump. Pluto is the furthest planet from the sun, in its own orbit.” Yet, Pluto has the power to wreak havoc should it break the order within our solar system.

As the set drew to a close, Haverly returned to the stage for an encore. Taking seat at the piano for the beautiful “Better,” the final sneak peek from her upcoming record. She introduced it: “I wrote this song when I was at the lowest point that I’ve been in years.”

When my mind can’t seem to rest/When my better is not my best/When the world feels dense, like it’s closing in/When my better's not my best

I think of you …

Every drummer assimilates grooves into his body and mind. The more you listen, more you play, things begin to fall in line. Until you hear a thing that you can't grab hold of, it rolls through what you have heard before and you can't find a way in, so you start the song again but you can't go through it either. You pick up the needle and drop it on the wide lip of vinyl again and again. Close your eyes and in seconds Herbie Hancock plays a clavinet in this circuitous boomerang and it sets up a young Keith Jarret on electric piano fleshing out sound. (That's the same Jarret who, after his tutelage with Miles Davis, put out eight- and 12-album sets of what might be a grandfather to George Winston's over-the-top meanderings.)

This is "Honky Tonk" from Miles Davis' 1970 jazz-rock epic, Get Up With It.

You see, back then if you were in the rooms, under the lights, playing for Miles, and you made it through to cut a record or two with him, you were well on your way. That list is staggering.
(Even percussionist-drummer Mtume—which also happens to be a song title on Get Up With It—
got a record deal and went for the purse with pre-hip-hop chart-topper "Juicy Fruit.")

Anyway, "Honky Tonk" finds Billy Cobham cutting the tempo, half-digging into his hi-hat and kickdrum, and percussionist Airto Moreira is rubbing his hands over skin, bending the air
with wooden birds and howler monkey sounds. Hancock's theme moves in and out of air holes ... Man, Miles must've laughed to himself, mumbling, "Tropical baby, pretty fuckin' Tropical."

John McLaughlin plugs in, dirty-ass rock 'n' roll chords pulling down the bottom end, setting up Miles blowin' patient, sharp notes, hanging in the slapback for a second before arrowing to his target. A piece spliced from "Live Evil" ... you can almost hear Miles' producer from this electrified era (Ted Mareco) thinking, "shit, steal from the best, steal from Miles ..."

Yeah, Columbia studio E, man, that room heard some real paint drying.

Get Up With It, a batch of stuff recorded from '70 to '74, sees Miles on the cover, his face dominated by these huge glasses to see what Miles sees. He'd drop off the earth for seven years after this record came out.

LA-based French-Chinese-American gypsy-jazz chanteuse Jessica Fichot has made it her business to soak up the musical influences from all of her cultural backgrounds and add her own original spin. The results rather stun. The music is all her own. Fichot’s voice is gorgeous — delicate, expressive and hypnotic. It really doesn’t matter whether she’s singing in English, French or Chinese (and she might employ any of them), the listener can’t fail to get carried along. She’s also a classically-trained musician, and an accomplished pianist and accordion player. She plays Club Congress on August 26, so we spoke to her about her past, present and future…

Where were you born?
Upstate New York, which is pretty different than the city. I moved to France when I was two, so I don’t remember much about my life before that. I lived in the suburbs of Paris, then I studied in Boston, and now I’ve been in Los Angeles for over a decade.

Why did you choose to live in LA?
It was a little bit by chance. I wanted a change from Boston after I graduated. I went to Berklee College of Music and, after I graduated, I felt like Boston was becoming a ghost town. A lot of people go there to study and then they leave. I stayed for about a year after I graduated, and I was getting a little tired of it. A friend of mine happened to be moving to LA, and I decided that I would join her to try it out. More than a decade later, I'm still here.

Do you enjoy it? LA is very different to L.A. and Boston …
I do like it. A lot of me liking Los Angeles came because I didn’t have expectations of it. I think a lot of people who move to L.A. and don’t like it, they don’t like it because they either expect to be successful really quickly, or they expect to find a city like New York where you can walk around and see interesting history and architecture. You have to know your way around a little bit better, but I came not really knowing what to expect and I think, because of that, I actually liked it right away.

Tell us about your upbringing in Paris … You were then from the age of two till when?
I left France when I was 19. I did [enjoy being a teen in Paris] at times. I came from a family of engineers. My parents and my brother are all engineers. My parents have always been supportive. For me, music has always been there, and growing up it was really the thing that was different from what everybody else in my family did, and something that was fun. Especially singing. I did grow up playing music, but it didn’t surround me every single place I went. It was something I chose, because I liked it.

You wrote children’s songs in college—is that correct?
I started writing them in college and I’m still writing them now. I went to Berklee to study songwriting, and I actually have a degree as a songwriter. Now, it seems strange to say that, but I started writing songs for musical theater for children, and then I got these jobs writing songs for youth for education. So I wrote these songs that teach English. It’s something that I still do to this day. Once in a while I have clients that will call me and ask me to write 30 songs for a new program, and then these songs will be used to accompany books that children will use when they’re learning English.

Does that help your songwriting overall?
Definitely. There’s something much more technical than people think when it comes to songwriting. It’s easier to be inspired to write a little bit of music. A song has to be structured the right way. Writing all of these songs for kids, it’s made me able to write. When I’m stuck, it’s made me a better craftsman of songs. It’s been really interesting because, when I write songs for these programs I have deadlines, so it’s made me learn to produce songs because I have to, not just write the music but also record people and produce the songs. I’ve learned to do it just by actually doing it.
Your style is obvious drawing from a number of places. How do you describe it?
When I first started this project and released my first album, I told people that I do French chanson. People would ask what that is and I would explain that ‘chanson’ just means song, but it’s also a style of music. Kind of like when you say ‘singer/songwriter.’ Chanson means song, but it’s also a style of music. With me embracing other languages and also singing some songs in Chinese, it’s become harder and harder to describe what I do. The basis is French chanson — original songs in French. Lyric-driven. But also an eclectic mix of acoustic music. I don’t think I’m the only person who has a hard time describing the music that they play. But French chanson, Shanghai jazz, and an eclectic mix of multilingual folk music. Even though the styles might sound different, there’s something about the band playing them and also the similar influences that I think make the show move despite the fact that there are a lot of languages. The last music that I released was songs originally from Shanghai but that style of music was very influenced by European jazz, which influences my own original songs. So somehow it all fits together.

For those reasons, can it be hard to find musicians to play with?
Not necessarily. It just happens that right now, a lot of the people that I play with are French. There’s definitely a lot of international people in the band. But I don’t think that it’s a problem to find musicians to play that style. Most of the musicians I play with have a jazz background and I hope they’re excited to play something that’s a little different than jazz standards. You definitely have an advantage knowing how to play jazz when playing my music even though it’s clearly different.

Do you enjoy playing Tucson?
I’ve played Tucson many times before. This is my fifth show, possibly even more. It’s my second time at Congress. I’ve been playing regularly in Tucson—almost once a year for the past five or six years. It’s not too far to drive from L.A. and usually I’ll do a couple of shows in Arizona when I drive east—people there have responded to my music. The people promoting the shows have done a good job. I do seem to have a decent crowd every time I play. But I don’t want to jinx it!

What can we expect from this set?
The more I’ve progressed in my career, the more variety I have in my shows. First when I started, it was really French-focussed. Now it’s brought into other styles. Occasionally covers, sometimes in English, that people don’t expect to hear. The more I play Tucson, the more variety I have in the show. I haven’t made my set list yet, I don’t quite know myself, but hopefully people will like it.

When this run of shows is over, what do you have coming up next?
I’m working on new songs and I’m also doing a lot of work with video games. People are surprised when I tell them I’m a gamer of sorts, but I’ve been writing interactive music for video games. I’m also writing new songs and I hope to put out an album although I don’t want to put out a date yet. My next release will probably be the soundtrack to the game I'm working on, and hopefully shortly after that, an album.

At 7 p.m. on Saturday, August 26 at Club Congress; 311 E. Congress St.; 520-622-8848; $10, 21+.

Your Weekly guide to keeping busy in the Old Pueblo.

¡Cultura!

Día de los Muertos Opening Reception. Tohono Chul’s next exhibit honors and remembers the dead in a celebration that is full of color and joy. Pieces by local artists will be displayed until the exhibit ends on Nov. 8, and artists whose work is on display will be present at the opening night reception. 5:30 to 8 p.m. Thursday, Aug. 24. 7366 Paseo del Norte. Free.

Closing Reception and Sewing Circle. Bordando por la Paz y la Memoria is a group made of citizens from Mexico and other cities abroad who embroider the names of victims of Mexico’s War Against Drug Trafficking onto white handkerchiefs. These stitched stories are a beautiful and sobering visualization of the suffering real people face in the reality of war. Handkerchiefs will be displayed in the café area, and, while supplies last, materials for visitors to embroider their own tributes and testimonies will be provided. 2 to 4 p.m. Sunday, Aug. 27. Joel D. Valdez Main Library 101 N. Stone Ave. Free.

Museums

Space Night 2017. Sleepovers at friends’ houses are fun, but are they educational? Are there opportunities to use state-of-the-art telescopes? Are there real meteorites available to be touched? We didn’t think so. The Children’s Museum Tucson will be showing sleepover guests how to get a party started with pizza, pajamas, binoculars, thermal cameras, and even meteorite-touching ops. Families are welcome to pitch tents in designated areas in the museum and in the main courtyard, for that highly sought after “pitch-a-tent-in-the-living-room-or-backyard-but-still-be-surrounded-by-fascinating-artifacts-and-unique-educational-opportunites” feel that many a sleepover party host has strived for and not attained. 6 p.m. to 9 a.m. Saturday, Aug. 26 to Sunday, Aug. 27. Children's Museum Tucson 200 South Sixth Ave. $50, $45 for museum members.

Dope flow. Sick rhymes. Loud, deep bass rattled innards. Earplugs were little defense.

“We’ve got three fucking decades of Tucson hip hop up here,” Jivin Scientists’ MC Runt exclaimed. Tucson’s hip-hop community gathered Saturday night at The Flycatcher to pay homage to Marcus “Big Ox” Meridox, who, along with James Ciphurphace and Jivin’ Scientists, in effect, created the scene in the mid-'90s out of Skrappy’s, the now-legendary venue and spawning ground of creativity.


Newcomer act Fated, a Phoenix B-boy duo comprised of emcees Simple Wizdom and Puritan, kicked off the night with lyrical dexterity, trap beats, synthesized washes and bravado. “My skills are unapproachable …” they claimed.

Another Phoenix emcee, by way of Boston, was next. Mr. Riot drew from Atmosphere, Rakim, Em' and others. Riot’s set peaked when “Ground Tremble” literally rocked the house.

Committed to giving back, Mr. Riot is founder of Gladiator Pen, a collective that raises money for Raising A Reader, a literacy program. 


“Representing the 5-2-0,” Aquafyde Boogey Bros., slammed through their set. “We’re doing this  because we’ve got to stand up. If it ain't building consciousness than it’s bullshit.” A reflection of the times. “Revolution is coming!” They covered every inch of the stage.

When asked about Charlottesville, emcee Brody Ave. kept it positive. “[This] is something that has affected America for a long time. Black people have been in the fight since inception. We need white brothers and sisters to get into the fight. To stop something that we have allowed to fester [too long] as a community.”

Amped, former Tucsonan James Ciphurphace & DJ Grapla, were up next. “Let’s make some noise for motherfuckin’ Ciphurphace.” The crowd jeered, moving closer to the stage. Ciphurphace said, “I moved to Jersey City. But I never forgot my roots.”

Working the crowd, prowling the stage like a cat, confidently. Jumping into the audience, feeding off the energy. The head-nodding beat of “Reflections” set the tone for Ciphurphace's real-world observations: “The rent’s past due/But you’ll spend hundreds at a sneaker store/Walk five miles to wash dishes and sweep the floor.” Urging the listener to “Take a look inside the mirror/Make a change/Get right.”

In a show of respect, Tucson hip-hop institution Jivin Scientists called for a moment of silence for Big Meridox. No easy task in a noisy bar. Yet, the booze-addled abated .. you could’ve heard a pin drop. Church. 
Formed in '98, Jivin’ Scientists draw more from analog sounds than sterile beats, after 10 albums, they sure as shit know what they're doing. Their flow killed. Joined by Ciphurphace and Big Ox, they spent more time rapping off stage, and to the crowd's delight.

The energy level in room rose when Big Meridox & DJ Alias went on last. Big Ox’s powerful delivery and cutting lyrics were fierce, enhanced by DJ Alias’ masterful turntablism. After years of gigs, the two are in sync. Straight up, boom-bap beat textures created pumping backdrops for Big Ox's effortless spits and rhymes.


Between joints, Meridox fired raw, anti-racist commentary. “Tucson, Arizona. Stay true. And don't call people niggers.” These are the times that we live in.

Meridox leaves Tucson as the champ. (He's moving east for a better job—his day gig is teacher). As evidenced in “Juice,” off his Beast Of Burden EP, with it’s wicked groove and pugilistic, rapid-fire wordplay, Meridox left ‘em wanting more.

By set's end, Big Meridox turned toward the turntables, where DJ Alias had been spinning. They met halfway and exchanged a bro hug. Big Ox, a gentle giant, perhaps too overcome, said to Alias, “I don't know what to tell you man ... But this is it.”

Writer Josh Levine proclaimed Meridox “unquestionably Tucson's greatest rapper.” After witnessing his farewell performance, there's no question.

Here, Meridox homies share words:

“Marcus means so much to me and the hip-hop community. He has been a mentor to most of us. Part of what makes Ox a great MC is his style. MC's aren't built like him nowadays.”—Pike Romero, Director at Tucson Hip Hop Festival

James Ciphurphace: “My brother Big Meridox. We go way back to the Red Dirt Specimen. He was my partner in rhyme. We were wrecking cyphers left and right. Recording mad tracks. I’ve got nothing but love for him.”

Just before he split, Meridox offered his final farewell. “I just want to thank Tucson for everything. Man, I am in awe. I’ll be back. I love Tucson to death. I am going to miss it …”

Each Labor Day weekend, Club Congress hosts the HOCO Fest, the city's biggest musical bash. It runs Wed. Aug. 30—Sunday, Sept. 3. We here at TW HQ are so down with it that we're doing power previews like tequila shots of bands and artists performing. Here's the beautifully deceptive Yves Tumor, performing Sunday, Sept. 3.


As aural performance artist, Yves Tumor uses repetitive, hypnotic synths and often-distorted clips of the human voice to examine heavy concepts. Like Laurie Anderson or John Cage, dude is more interested in raising questions and making you think than he is in making pretty music. This is post-modern art, yo—stark, confrontational. In “Limerence,” Yves examines context; a woman’s voice clearly states, “Say something.” At first she seems pissed, but when we hear it again, after learning that she wants her boyfriend to “say something” for posterity, the same clip is entirely different. Fucking brilliant. In “When Man Fails You,” the listener is assaulted by endless, atonal bells, and there’s something empty, sadistic yet purposely overwhelming about this tune. Yves’ music is like walking into a museum video installation and taking in dismembered limbs. Open minds and hearts will likely be provoked, shaken and discomforted. Good! So save those psychs for later—but go—this music is profound enough to challenge your assumptions many times over. Plus, he’s gorgeous.
Yves Tumor - Broke in ft. Oxhy from lowlife scum on Vimeo.

Each Labor Day weekend, the fine folks at Club Congress host the city's biggest musical bash of the year. It runs Wed. Aug. 30-Sunday, Sept. 3. The Tucson Weekly is down with it.

We here at TW HQ so down with it we'll be doing power previews like tequila shots of bands and artists performing the HOCO Fest, local and international. Here's the cliche-destroying Mexican Institute of Art, a must-see on Friday, September Sept. 1.

Political, whip smart, ironic. Just one of these three adjectives is hard to pull off with musicality, but Mexico City’s Mexican Institute of Sound gano the triple crown. Whether directly addressing the problems in “Mexico,” where violence and corruption has citizens “saber que el tuyo no es tuyo,” (knowing what is yours is not yours) or playing against Latin-lover stereotypes, “Escribeme Pronto. Soy pasionante, pero yo no soy tanto” (Write me soon. I am passionate but I am not stupid), the singsong/rapped lyrics are always on point—witty and aware of US and Mexican cultural shortcomings. But it’s not just the lyrics in this post-Beck hip-hop outfit that succeed. On “Mexico,” traditional, heroic-sounding horns are slowed down to be clownish; turning a cultural touchstone on its head. In “Escribeme Pronto,” sped up mandates to “Dance!” are dropped in above ’50s Mexico-by-way-of-Hollywood orchestration. This is parody at its finest—razor sharp, danceable, fun. Like Ozomatli, this banda just gets better live. All hail group leader Camilo Lara! Not to be missed.

Each Labor Day weekend, the fine folks at Club Congress host the city's biggest musical bash of the year. It runs Wed. Aug. 30-Sunday, Sept. 3. The Tucson Weekly is down with it.

We here at TW HQ so down with it we'll be doing drive-by previews like tequila shots of bands and artists performing the Hoco Fest, local and international. Here's Willis Earl Beal, or "Nobody" as he's called on the streets of Tucson. He's a must-see on Sunday Sept. 3.

Willis Earl Beal is the real deal, kids. A Chicago-born blues singer with the prowess of R.L. Burnside (“I’ve got nine inches like a pitchfork prong, so honey lift up your dress and help me sing this song”), the gutsy imagination of, yes, Tom Waits (“I cruise through the flesh in my hotrod hearse”) and that all-important connection between brain, heart and throat too-rarely heard in singers today (on a duet with Cat Power, he blows Chan Marshall’s usually-arresting vocals out of the water.) Beal claps hands and plays spoons. He’s a student of African-American roots music the way that Old Crowe is of bluegrass or Gillian is of Americana. So no, there’s no corporate backing here, thank Christ, so he ain’t answering to anyone. Yet, his new, modern take on the devil’s music is swagger-y sexy, authentic, steeped in old Robert Johnson and Willie Dixon. You might have seen him on Tucson streets busking by the telling moniker of “Nobody,” wearing a Zorro cape and mask, but that ain’t no gimmick. He’s been lauded in newspapers the world over, but for, he says, for all the wrong reasons. We assume it’s all about the music, man. Since 2012 he’s released more than a dozen albums, singles and EPs. He's the best musical thing stationed in Tucson at the moment. Hope he chooses to hang here.

Each Labor Day weekend, the fine folks at Club Congress host the city's biggest musical bash of the year. It runs Wed. Aug. 30-Sunday, Sept. 3. The Tucson Weekly is down with it.

We're so down with it we'll be doing drive-by previews like tequila shots of bands and artists performing the Hoco Fest fest, local and international. Here's a shot of the smart, underrated DJ Orange Julius, playing the fest on Saturday, Sept. 2.

DJ Orange Julius deconstructs modern American consumerist culture: media, gaming, commodification of sex etc. In 2015’s “Gangs,” a montage of TV voices debating gangs as a threat vs. a racist construct is superimposed over the bleeps and boops of early video-game weapon fire. As he often does, Julius changes up the tempo midway through the track into a second movement, which opens up and then settles down into “187 on a fuckin’ cop.” Other times, Julius just revels in the joy of mindless repetition; “Bring It Back” sweetly recalls of Fatboy Slim’s classic “Funk Soul Brother.” This music has three major, recurrent components: sped up R&B, rap lyrics or sentiments (such as “Penetrate Dem Guts”), and complex, programmed dance beats, intentionally unsophisticated in tone, like an ’80s Yamaha keyboard. DJ Orange Julius’ cutting board manages to castrate all three usually sexy genres at once—irony is a hard groove to find and an astringent juice to swallow.

Johnny Winter was born in Beaumont, Texas in the early '40s. He and little brother Edgar would often catch blues musicians such as Muddy Waters, Bobby Bland and B.B. King on the Chitlin Circuit's lower stops.

By the time the bros began gigging they knew firsthand what prejudice could do to those inflicted, and to those inflicting. And, while they embraced black music and black culture, they felt like freaks so they chose to flaunt their albinism, long white hair, hard pale eyes and pearl skin. There has been nothing like them before or since. The best argument ever in favor of white people playing the blues.

Those boys were meant to shine.

Johnny signed a big money deal with Columbia Records on the praise of blues axeman Mike Bloomfield and the ever growing rock 'n' roll community in Texas. He had was an original voice, a searing steel guitar sound, while fearless with a hand-me-down Fender, turning rock 'n' roll tricks to further his true love—the Blues.

Edgar had started White Trash, an R&B and jazz-inflected rock 'n' roll outfit while Johnny
hit full stride with remaining members of The McCoys, (yes, Hang on Sloopy). He
carved out a whole new sound, thumb picking on the guitar to free up his fingers.

In 1970 Johnny put out Johnny Winter And, which featured the Rick Derringer-penned "Rock and Roll Hoochie Koo," a two-guitar barnburner and the consummate '70s rock song. This version is spotless, tight and avoids cliche.  Johnny's voice is weathered at a young age—he was already deep into the spoon—and his vocals and guitar work are almost pleas for deliverance. He had a relationship with Janis Joplin around this time. Things were moving very fast; his heart was in blues music but his label had a full-on marketing campaign to make him a pop star of sorts, and for awhile he bought in. The records from that time are very good. He would shepherd covers, like Dylan's "Highway 61" and The Stones' "Silver Train," turning them into electrical showstoppers. He was something to see playing rock star but it'd be a matter of time till he went back to pure blues. He produced his idol Muddy Waters and erned Grammys for his trouble.
Edgar would have huge success with the instrumental "Frankenstein" (someone had to) and the FM-radio mighty "Free Ride." The brothers would do live projects together, most of which are really quite good. Lastly, Johnny and Edgar are portrayed in DC Comics' Jonah Hex (a fave of mine), a half-dead Civil War soldier/bounty hunter who crosses paths with a Johnny and Edgar Autumn, a pair of albino bros who are Texas bounty hunters.

Johnny passed away on tour, summer 2014. A real Texas bluesman.

"Lawdy Mama, light my fuse ..."