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citybeat music blog 5/11/07

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Reviews

the lost days of captain johnny sinclair
released 2/15/05
Spill It

The Vibrating Begins

By Mike Breen

The Vibrating Needle Recording Collective, a D.I.Y. home-recorders collaborative comprised of several local bedroom Phil Spectors, will present its first two CD projects -- from for algernon and Folk? -- with one release party, on Friday at Downtown's Crush. The event features live performances from for algernon, Dayton's Sleepybird, The Newbees and Bulletproof Charm, plus a special audio/visual presentation of the new self-titled Folk? disc.
· Singer/songwriter Jason Wells is the mastermind behind for algernon. Wells -- also a member of the Vibrating Needle-affiliated Minni-Thins -- got his start a few years ago as a solo acoustic performer, and he has more recently been getting into film scoring. The new for algernon disc, The Lost Days of Captain Johnny Sinclair, is reflective of both of those musical guises. Wells' songs have a fragile intimacy and, as a craftsman, he shows a keen attention to songwriting detail. But the spacious ambiance of Sinclair and Wells' use of an impossibly wide instrumental array (cello, flute, French horn, melodica) show his writing to be more "big picture" than lo-fi. Never confined by his verse/chorus structures, Wells' tells his stories with tasteful, just-right adornment (the sweeping strings on the lush "SWPF," the sad, dirty piano on the downtrodden "Seattle," the layered harmonies and keyboards throughout). Wells seems to make music like a film director; the skeletal structures are the scripts (and they are usually good ones, tending toward the moody Indie Pop side of things), but the surroundings are just as important to the final result. Wells' vision often overshoots the home-recorded production quality; like Elliott Smith, he's the kind of singer/songwriter you'd like to see get a big budget to record, just to hear what he could come up with on a broader canvas. But Wells works the lo-fi aesthetic in as just another conveyance tool, helping him to create the pure, unsullied moods he so proficiently communicates with each track. (vibratingneedle.net)
for the album:
remember why we ran
released 7/26/2006
-Citybeats The Year in Your Ear 01/03/07- "One of The Best Releases of the Year and the Best Ever from Wells"

-Wells Goes Big(ger) from Citybeat 07/06

by Mike Breen 

Wells' previous releases (remember is the third long-player under the for algernon name and his fourth overall) have been isolated affairs, with the multi-instrumentalist recording most of the sounds himself. It was an approach reflected in the songs, which seethe melancholy and float on intimate atmospherics. While the songs on remember retain much of the close-quarters mood from past releases, Wells incorporates a large supporting cast this time out, including the members of his live band and local musician friends like Misty Perholtz (The Newbees) and Andrew Geonetta (Bulletproof Charm).

The tasteful ornamentation (organ, piano, synths, melodica, additional lead guitars) is enhancing and engaging, but it's the songwriting that's the centrifugal force of Wells' output, and remember why we ran contains some of his best songs yet. He cleverly uses a running theme throughout the record, based on two people -- one just out of a long relationship and the other yearning to get out of one -- who connect but ultimately fall apart because they're looking for happiness in others instead of within themselves.

In lieu of grand poetic statements, Wells tells the story through the characters' own words. It's a brilliant device, as the lyrics often sound like they could have been cobbled from actual conversations and arguments overheard through thin walls. On the track "Salt," for example, we hear this exchange, which should register with anyone who's had a "We need to talk" moment with a lover: "So go on, do what you want to/Unlike you, I give you support/I think it's safe to say, that we're losing this game/And money's not the only thing we're short."

The songs continue in Wells' low-key Indie Pop tradition, with the wispy, emotional resonance of Wilco songs like "She's a Jar" or the work of amazing Chicago singer/songwriter Chris Mills. Built around gentle acoustic strumming, Wells' songs feature magnetic melodies that go from unassuming and somber ("The Army That Is You & Me," "That Angel's Song I Heard") to buoyant and classic ("Grey Ghost," "September of When"). With remember why we ran, Wells has crafted a poignant, humble masterpiece that will haunt almost anyone who has ever experienced relationship woes and charm any Indie music fan who lives for honest, emotive songwriting. (foralgernon.com)

an ungentlemanly act at sea & con(sequence)

Releasing two new CDs from the attic with live help from Sleepybird 

By C.A. MacConnell

OK, get this: Some guy was on the top floor of a giant skyscraper, looking through a dirty window.
He eventually got depressed and decided to jump through it. He fell all the way to the end. He didn’t die. Why didn’t he die? (Insert hard thinking.) Give up? Well, he was a window-washer, and he jumped through the glass into the building.

Kinda dark. Kinda a sweet relief. Perspective is tricky. And for Jason Wells of for algernon, although his sound veers toward soothing, then leans into the moody side, a focused, optimistic, artistic view is key.

“As long as I can play and create, I’m happy,” he says. “The pressure of having the record that makes or breaks me, well, I don’t really care anymore. I have moments when I wonder why I go on, and then I get an e-mail from someone somewhere. If I reached out to one person, that’s awesome to me. I don’t know what else could happen from there.”

Grandma’s Casio electronic piano was Wells’ first stab at Rock. For a while, he clung to nothing but Gangsta Rap and Frank Sinatra. Later, on guitar, he pumped out originals. He laughs quietly.

“Now I have too many instruments,” he says. “Banjos, ukuleles, all kinds of crazy stuff.”

He likes literary references and “stupid long titles.” He talks about the dark singers — Elliott Smith, Nick Drake — with an ironic grin. A Cincinnati West-sider with a red-brown scruffy beard, glasses, a simple sweater and black Chucks, Wells admits that his fingertips are numb. Nerves.

Although lighthearted and modest by nature, his craftily subtle songs are spaciously pensive, with a whispery, bare quality reminiscent of Chris Whitley. The “open background” feel to his minimalistic tunes doesn’t overpower the whole mood but rather supports it. In 2000, for algernon began as an attic-recording project with “a bunch of gadgets.” Now, he says, “You can barely walk in. I’ve got so much stuff in there. You can always tell when I’m making an album. There’s paper on the floor, instruments, keyboards piled on top; it looks like a tornado went through.”

He later worked with fellow locals the Minni-Thins. “I’m not a leader in a band situation,” Wells says, “so I back away and let other people take over, and what I had originally envisioned goes away in that atmosphere, so I work better alone.”

At one point, eight people performed with for algernon live, complete with strings and horns.

“It was beautiful,” he says, “but I ended up stripping it back down.”

Friends add parts, but Wells mostly records alone. Releasing a slew of CDs since 2001, his latest two creations, (con)sequence and an ungentlemanly act at sea, will be released concurrently at his next show. Until now, ungentlemanly has been in the closet.

“The songs were pretty revealing, and people would listen to it and ask, ‘Are you OK?’ ” Wells says. “After three of those phone calls I was like, ‘I’m not gonna let anyone else hear this. It’s some of the craziest stuff I’ve ever done.’ Later, I was happiest with it, actually.”

Currently, Dayton band Sleepybird backs him live.

“I basically stalked them until they were my friend,” he says. “I’ve been writing with them in mind. Their sound naturally fit with these two albums — dark, orchestral and folky at the same time. Big and tiny all at once. The practices we’ve had have been amazing. I get lost just listening to them, so I’m really glad to have them along.”

Drawn to the vast scope of Icelandic group Sigur Ros, Wells remarks, “I didn’t write anything for like six months after seeing (Sigur Ros) play live. That’s the way you should walk out after seeing someone. You should feel inspired. You should feel healed. I don’t think I’m anywhere near that, but that’s the goal I’m looking for when I’m writing, and now with Sleepybird I see potential I guess.

“I remember this story about Bruce Springsteen,” Wells says. “He was playing some New Jersey bar and someone came up to him and said, ‘You really saved my life tonight,’ and it doesn’t matter from there. Everything else is just a blessing from there on out.”

Wells smiles, looking away, glancing into the coffee shop window.

Sometimes, despite yesterday’s cloudiness, the view through the glass becomes streak-free. All clear.