NEW MONSOON: THE FUN IS THE JOURNEY

Making a go of it as a working band is a gamble at best. Talent is a powerful force but the randomness of radio, album sales, and concert attendance are often overwhelming. You might write a tune to make the heavens vibrate but if no one hears it then it's a hymn sung only by a few. San Francisco's new monsoon made the brave, perhaps even foolhardy, choice to ditch their day jobs and give everything to the music early in 2003. What follows is a day in their life as they visit a town where Fortuna is worshipped above all other gods and Luck is a cruel, elusive mistress who visits only a few.

It's late morning when the plane touches down in Las Vegas. I can hear the slot machines clatter before I've even made it off the plane. Two kinds of people toss in coins at the airport: those who've just arrived and still dream of big riches for easy money, and those on their way home that hope a few coins will redeem the losses of their stay. Both dream but one does so with the metallic aftertaste of reality. I wonder which brand of dreamers I'll encounter when I meet the members of new monsoon by the waters of the Wild Wild West, a neatly funky off-Strip two-story joint that's started holding shows put together by the Las Vegas Jam Band Society by their pool.

By Susan J Weiand

New monsoon is playing Sin City for the first time on a ridiculously temperate day in September. It's not just their debut but also the anniversary of the 9/11 attacks, making this a thought-provoking day pregnant with possible tensions. Meeting up with them at the Gambler's Grill, a coffee shop inside the casino-hotel, I encounter a group relaxed, guardedly confident, bristling with good humor. They arrived late last night and had a few hours to just wander around and drink in the neon ambience. For a touring concern, even a single night away from the stage is a gift, a reprieve from the near-constant drain of set-ups and breakdowns, not to mention performing itself. They talk about eating healthier soon but order steak sandwiches, glistening hash browns, and buckets of coffee. Later will find them enjoying many red plastic cups of locally brewed ale proffered by one of the organizers. They are road denizens and the whole notion of broccoli, bran, and basmati rice doesn't jive with guys who live out of a van and sing for their supper.

By Dan Sock

I tell banjo/acoustic guitar picker Bo Carper that I dig their unusual mixture of classic pop chops, Indian flavors, jazz changes, and rock steadiness. It's a polyglot sound unlike much else. Bo chirps, "I tried to refrain from making that polyglot sound but my doctor said it's genetic." That kind of wiseacre response is indicative of the whole band. Humor allows them to deal with the shortcomings of being in a new place almost every day. Nothing about nearly nine months of touring has diminished their capacity to laugh, at both situations and themselves. They joke with one another, taking each other to task for their tastes or regaling a new set of ears with stories from their travels. They freely discuss their off nights where they clunk it up, addressing them with self-effacing humor. While it might not always be magic it's clear that despite cramming seven people into hotel rooms meant for two or putting in thousands of white line miles every week they still enjoy each other's company and the shine of playing regularly hasn't dimmed much. Even if their road crew consists of a single sound engineer and they carry all their own gear and lay all their own cables, they never seem less than tickled to be playing ANYWHERE.

So, what made 2003 the year to go full time?

By Dan Sock

Lead guitarist Jeff Miller says, "Well, we all knew that we had to tour full time to be able to play music professionally. Unless you're Britney Spears or a winner on American Idol, you have to tour to gain fans. Last year we had some great regional gigs, especially High Sierra Music Fest. After HSMF, we started talking seriously about a 'launch date' and agreed that after the first of the year we would be in the van. It was a commitment that we all stuck to and it is paying off. At Horning's Hideout I looked out at the crowd and saw faces of friends we've made from all over the country. It was an amazing feeling."

Phil Ferlino, keyboard player extraordinaire, adds, "Well, we all realized that at some time, we would HAVE to make the leap to full-time touring in order to even attempt reaching our musical potential. The only question then was when would be the best time to hit it? That made itself glaringly clear to all of us when all of our regular day gigs--non-musician that is--started drying up in 2002. Although they were all for different reasons, I also believe that we somehow willed this to happen."

from newmonsoon.com

It was not a choice made lightly. It took an act of faith. Heath Carlisle, lead singer and bassist, states, "In January 2003, The band had been together for five years, two years in its current lineup, and we all felt that it was time to look over the edge of that cliff. Everyone, of course, had and has varying degrees of stability, personal, financial, and otherwise, but the common bond was the energy and willingness to take the chance and jump. Yeah there's been a broken bone or two, but here we are, learning to fly."

Having recently played Red Rocks for the first time as a guest of String Cheese, they reminisce about the view from the side stage which they describe as a "wind in your hair, 'Ride of the Valkyries'" kind of experience. They are getting their first taste of playing bigger halls but still gladly work the late nights anywhere that'll have them, which includes a recent wee hours show at a bowling alley. It's happening for them, the dates are coming as well as the audiences. There's palpable confidence from the people around them including the extraordinarily cool Jam Band Society folks who've wanted this monsoon to hit town for ages. Heath seems a bit dazed by it all, "You hit places in your life where ask how did I get here?"

By Susan J Weiand

All the miles and six-day performance weeks have paid off in a maturation of the sound heard on their pair of boffo studio releases. Bo Carper offers, "I think our dynamics have improved a lot. And it just takes less time to get in the zone. It's like a musical muscle that gets stronger and the band is more agile. Sometimes we begin our set and within the first five seconds we're locked. That is a great feeling and it was a rare phenomenon until we started touring full-time."

There is no comparison between being a regional act and a touring band, says Jeff Miller. "When you have to come up with the goods every night you are exposed in a way that you can't imagine when you are living at home and playing several gigs a month. Everything you and your bandmates experience in a given day is all there, in the performance, that night. Sometimes, on the most difficult, exhausting days, there are epiphanies on stage and they may not always be apparent to the audience. We've all been exposed to each other and ourselves in a very raw way. That is where I think the true growth really lies. Hopefully that comes through in our performances."

By Larry Fox

Heath agrees that touring has had a profound affect on them. "During the touring process, there are different phases the music tends to go through. At the beginning, the energy is high and everybody is dancing and rediscovering their parts and sounds. Then comes an inevitable fatigue and there are a series of shows where there is an element of survival. And this is good for the music, because it forces a kind of catharsis whereby people are pushed to discover their limitations and learn to lean on their brother in times of need. This is obviously good for the group mentality in many ways."

He continues, looking at the downside of all the gigging, "You become a more or less unwilling family out there, and families operate best when they are not aware only of their strengths but of their weaknesses as well. One aspect we are reluctantly discovering is the fact that there is not much time on tour to actually write and rehearse new material. Everybody in the band is their own creative tour-de-force and together we are a monster! It will become crucial, existentially so, that we somehow find time to maintain the collective creative process, during the touring times."

Talking with new monsoon, one is instantly struck by their intelligence. They're articulate and almost embarrassingly open about how much they love what they do. If the goal of any working soul is to strike the right chord with the universe, find THE task they were intended for, it seems these dudes have hit a tuning fork this year that resonates that kind of rightness. At times, though, they may be some of the only ones hearing it. Some dates are jammed to capacity but since they are still making a name for themselves the halls can also be far less than full. To their credit, by all reports, they never give less to a small crowd. They want to own a room, any room, and muster a collective energy to make that happen repeatedly.

By Dan Sock

One key enzyme in their chemistry is the trio of drummers--kit drummer Marty Ylitalo, tabla maestro Rajiv Parikh and Brian Carey on congas and Latin/Afro-Cuban percussion. Phil Ferlino, known to his comrades as "The Pianimal," states, "I have to say that I feel very fortunate to have these guys working together to create some very beautifully complex grooves that would be impossible without them. And also, I can attest to the fact that, with three percussionists, if they didn't actually WORK out the parts together, the end result would be cacophonous, to say the least." He continues, "They also allow (me) more freedom of moving in and out of the music since they are holding down rhythm that the keyboards need not provide. A lot of times, I will know exactly what to play stylistically, modally, etc. When a certain rhythm is played it will conjure up melodies and timbres that rise to the surface."

During the soundcheck Marty and Phil work up a lazy ganja river, stuttering organ strolling with ambling intent. Within moments Rajiv and Brian find a pocket in the groove. Though distracted seconds before, everyone else answers the sleepily swinging call to improvise. Even a sauce monkey hanging by the pool, a hotel guest treated to music he'd probably never hear otherwise, picks up a giant hula-hoop and moves his clueless hips. His wife barks, "No, do it slow like you're enjoying your sex." A few of us howl behind our drinks and try to avoid eye contact with the duo. Still, the music does have a Kundalini-loosening charm that somehow manages to feel wholesome, if that makes any sense. There's a purity to new monsoon, something that happens because all seven of the members offer up their contributions without a lot of ego (though a kind of inbred pride does emerge occasionally as you'll read in a minute). As individuals they'd shine within any group, maybe even take on the star instrumentalist role, but they put that aside for the sake of something bigger than what they might achieve on their own.

By Dan Sock

I ask Bo Carper about working with the drummers. He says, "One time, in a rare moment of sentimentality, I said to Rajiv and Brian and Marty 'You guys are amazing and I feel so lucky to be in this band with you.' Brian looked at me deadpan and said 'You ARE lucky.' That still makes me laugh out loud. Worse yet, he was right. The Indian and Latin influence is obviously a big part of our sound, and Raja and Brian are the real deal. They bring authenticity to the groove when we play in those styles. It raises the bar for the rest of us because we strive to meet their standards and do justice to those musical traditions. We have a long way to go, but we'll get there." He goes on, "And Marty's flavor of drumming, which was highly original from the beginning, has evolved in a very cool way as a result of being the anchor for such a unique triad."

Heath jumps in, "The percussion in this band is monstrous! The three headed rhythm beast! It's an incredible feeling to play bass with these guys. The layering and complexity of the rhythms can be a true rush. There's also an element of 'find a space and fill it' that keeps our sound pretty consistently dense. We have to try really hard to let things breathe, as such, if only to give the folks dancing time to rest!"

That density shows up in Bo's banjo playing, especially in the liquid transcendence of his slide work. Makes it hard to believe he only started playing the instrument seriously three years ago. "I love the banjo because it is a drum with strings and frets. My favorite things in one instrument," states Carper. "I love how it sounds with the tablas. I am moved by the Indian and African characteristics of it, which is how it fits best with new monsoon."

The lyrical end of their songwriting is fairly thick, too. And their cover selection includes such 'lite-weight’' ditties as Traffic's "Low Spark of High Heeled Boys" and Pink Floyd's "Fearless."

By Dan Sock

"In the songs that I write, I try to maybe shed some light on my own dark corners. I never really sat and analyzed it too much but I do get truly inspired during those moments when I see my own demons, maybe crouching, eyes glowing along some barren fence line way at the back of my mind," says Heath Carlisle. "There's a lot of misunderstanding in the world, and if I can talk about my own, then maybe someone will recognize themselves and it will help in some small way. This is all just a movie going by and it is our own desire that tends to imprison us."

As for singing cover tunes, he states, "It's freeing in a way and really endearing to an audience. And there are some very beautiful melodies out there! A cover is sort of like a coloring book: the lines are there but we fill in the 3rd dimension and add the color. I admit to having difficulty interpreting a song when someone tells me they want it sung a (certain) way. I've been guilty of changing other people's lyrics to suit my own taste, and also freely borrowing and allowing myself to be influenced by all the music and words I am growing up on. But I look at it from the point of view that no matter how hard I study Picasso and learn his style, mix his pigments, use his brush techniques, I am never going to paint like Picasso. I will only do what I'm able, what I'm ready for, what I deserve."

Over a hurried dinner with Jeff Miller, as he fills out the chalkboards with that night's setlist, we discuss his influences on guitar.

"I like so many guitar players that I hate to single out anyone in particular. What influences me is what the 'essence' of a player evokes in your soul or imagination. Jimmy Page for example can take you to the darkest depths of Mordor. Jimi Hendrix can rip your face off like a 'Machine Gun.' Carlos can take you on a Caravanserai of joy. Stevie Ray can leave you penniless in 'Tin Pan Alley.' Clapton introduces you to the Devil at the Crossroads. Duane ties you to the 'Whippin' Post.' Every player who is truly channeling their individual experience brings something valuable to the table. I like to taste it all."

With the sun hanging low in the desert sky, new monsoon greets the Las Vegas crowd nearly on time, a rare trait with most touring acts. A small scramble to gather everyone in one place puts them on shortly after the scheduled start but that's allowed the pool compound to fill up respectably. The full details of their performance can be found elsewhere but suffice it to say that no one left with less than a shit-eating grin.

If I were a betting man, I'd say fortune will shine on new monsoon. It might not happen every day but something about them, their natural talent, their demeanor, their spirit, tells me that they'll win more than they lose. They are out there doing it, making a go at a dream, with two coins to rub together and twelve hands to hold on the days they come up empty. As Heath says, "The fun is in the journey, not the destination!"

Dennis Cook
JamBase | Oakland
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