Nick Shoulders - Home On The Rage - COMPACT DISCS [CD]

Sæunn Sæunn Thorsteinsdóttir writes, InchI dream in Icelandic despite having spent most of my life outside of Iceland. My native language shows itself in other ways too, as I found out early in my development as a cellist, when my teacher pointed out that I am extremely sensitive to the textures and overtones of sound, probably related to the abundance of un-voiced consonant sounds in Icelandic. It is an old language, preserved by isolation, and in the process of adapting to a quickly changing world. I see classical contemporary music sharing a similar process, finding new sounds and ways of expression through old means in a dialogue with our way of life. There is also an appreciation of silence and economy of expression in Icelandic culture that I find comforting and fascinating. This project is a compilation of pieces by composers that not only share my mother-tongue and culture, in language and music, but also bring their unique perspective and expression in their compositions. From the moment that I played Solitaire for the first time, I felt a connection, not only to the music but also beyond the music. The more recent pieces are collaborations with Halldór, Páll and Þuríður and I couldn't have asked for more generous artists to come into my life and allow me to explore my voice through their music. This project has stretched me and challenged me in ways that I couldn't begin to comprehend, a homecoming of sorts in my musical life and I have many people to thank for making it happen.Inch Icelandic-American cellist, Sæunn Thorsteinsdóttir, enjoys a varied career as a performer, collaborator and educator. She has appeared as soloist with the Los Angeles Philharmonic, NDR Elbphilharmonie Orchester, BBC Symphony Orchestra, Toronto Symphony Orchestra and Iceland Symphony, among others, and her recital and chamber music performances have taken her to many of the world'

Refugia Blues, the fifth album from Nick Shoulders, is a record of big ideas and small, intimate moments. These nine songs are rooted in the stylings of Southern traditional music. Sparse, timeless, and unamplified, they're older than the sounds Shoulders saluted on albums like 2023's All Bad, with it's loud, whooping anthems for roadhouses and sweaty dancehalls. Here, Shoulders isn't shouting over a band. He isn't bringing a crowd to it's feet with dance-ready tempos. Rather, he's exploring another side of his craft by stepping up to a ribbon microphone as a solo performer, delivering each song with acoustic instruments and a voice that's equal parts country croon, Appalachian yodel, and high-lonesome field holler. As he explains it, Refugia Blues isn't just a call to action; it's a call to rest, too. InchThis is my Nebraska,Inch he says, nodding to Bruce Springsteen's lo-fi acoustic record from 1982. InchSome people listen to Bruce for the E Street Band and the big radio hits, but I like the intimacy and rawness of Nebraska instead. I'd like to think of Refugia Blues as a little window into the heart, as opposed to the drumbeat of a revolution.InchShoulders' interpretation of American roots music has always been more progressive and punky than the trucks-and-beers conservatism that passes for modern-day country. Refugia Blues offers songs about climate collapse, radical anthropology, and generative disruption. It balances the macro with the micro, too, making room for love songs and personal topics, packaging humor alongside heavy insights. At once academic and accessible, Refugia Blues isn't just a deep dive into southernness, but also into Shoulders himself. This is a raw, resolute version of American country music, stacked high with songs that go down easy but linger in the minds of those willing to invest the time.

Wielding an ethereal croon and masterful whistle crafted from a lifetime chasing lizards through the Ozark hills, Nick Shoulders is a living link to roots of country music with a penchant for the absurd. Combining his family's deep ties to regional traditional singing with his years of playing to crowded street corners, Nick has sought to forge a hybridized form of raucously clever country music; born of forgotten rocky hollers and bred to confront the tensions of the 21st century South. As evidenced by his surreal album art and anachronistic songwriting, Nick's creative output is steeped in the complicated history of his beloved home of rural Arkansas, but crafted as a conscious rebuke of country music's blind allegiance to historical seats of power and repression. With a kind word and a mean yodel, Nick hopes to put the 'Try' in country. A cry out against the withering void of listless Americana, 'Okay, Crawdad', is the fledgling full length album from Nick and company. A two-step laden dose of indignation, loss and profound elation, the album is inspired as much by the chaos and decadence of south Louisiana as it is the rural sounds of yesteryear from which it sprang. Despite a pandemic inspired relocation to his home in the Natural State, New Orleans and it's community helped meld the forces at play on the album; pitting an adherence to tradition and refusal to conform against each other with grand results.