Dirty Impound

Before we encountered Buck 65’s music we had no idea what a truly filthy creature a centaur could be. Buck, or Richard Terfry if you’re his mama, has a knack for knotting his fingers into fleshy subject matter, though his observations south of the border (metaphorically speaking) often have an air of post-coital contemplation afloat in fading pheromones, cigarette smoke and booze vapors. Not so much pornographic as unhindered in his lustiness, Terfry excels at peeling away our layers to reveal the true impulses beneath our surfaces.

To some he’s an underground hip-hop champion, to others an artiste with an “e” with a way with high-minded concepts, and to others he’s simply one of the most original, uncategorizable musicians of the past few decades (count us in this last category). His latest album, 20 Odd Years (released March 29 on WEA International), gets a lil’ dirty in spots but also exhibits ample lover-man energy, too. Buck 65 thrives in contradiction’s choppy waters, and his new album amps up that churn with his most diverse-yet-well-realized musical settings yet. It’s a heck of a record and one that will take a fair while to unlock, as complex, thoughtful and healthily irreverent a work as any contemporary musician has mustered. And part of 20 Odd Years’ success is a fairly intense understanding of human sexuality and desire, perhaps the most convoluted, unpredictable part of us as a species, though in Terfry’s hands it doesn’t seem quite so confusing.

We cornered Buck to answer the Impound’s saucy seven, and will return next week with his answers to Impounded Inquiries.

son of a whore!

If you dig dead solid songwriting, earthy, on-point harmonies and rootsy rock, well, you’ll be readily smitten by Austin, TX’s The Band of Heathens, whose latest salvo throws out echoes of The Band, Lowell George and The Jayhawks, mingling three ace singer-songwriters and a locktight rock band with some greasy lubrication. Top Hat Crown & The Clapmaster’s Son (released March 29 on BOH Records) is a bayou haunted song cycle that rages and moans by turns, the whole weaving together a lot of the strengths the band has shown in the past and then bettering them. A heavy touring schedule, an appearance on Austin City Limits and a growing national fan base all speak to band’s easy likability and contagious good ‘n’ gritty rock.

With the word ‘heathen’ in their name, we thought we’d toss our naughty survey their way. Singer-guitarist-songwriter Ed Jurdi chimes in.

Conway Twitty is dirty?

It’s clear within a few tunes on 8 Songs About A Girl, the lusty, troubled, laid bare debut from Deep Dark Robot, that this pair knows a thing or four about sex and longing.

Two of the eight tracks contain the f-word in the title, and Linda Perry doesn’t scrimp on saucy language and pulse racing observations throughout 8 Songs (released March 22 on Perry’s own Custard label). But Perry’s first new band since 4 Non Blondes isn’t provocative for the sake of it. There’s real feeling behind the f-bombs, tears inside an utterance of “stupid bitch,” and ultimately the pain of knowing that what you want will never be. It’s a heck of a debut, and Tony Tornay (Fatso Jetson) proves a great foil for Perry’s ever-skilled pen and split-open vocals. Like any interesting relationship, the journey from nostril-flaring first spark to sad ending is a curious rocket ride sure to hit a nerve with anyone who’s ever really, really wanted someone they couldn’t have.

After years of penning high quality material for the likes of Pink and Christina Aguilera, Perry has reemerged with a project that’s utterly personal yet strangely universal and chockablock with raw rock spirit. It’s the kinda slab that almost makes you wish she’d get her heart kicked around a little more just so the second album is just as fucking cool and immediate. But really, we wouldn’t wish that on anyone, especially a musician we really dig.

We got Linda and Tony to dip their little toe into our swampy questions.

let’s get butt naked!

Ryan MontbleauRyan Montbleau Band

The ladies flow like water through the songs of the Ryan Montbleau Band, a constant source of inspiration to their leader, even if sometimes they make him feeling like he’s drowning. They flit in & out of the tunes on Heavy On The Vine, the band’s quite charming new release, which slots in nicely next to the work of Jack Johnson, Donavon Frankenreiter and other contemporary purveyors of easy to like pop. However, one element that sets Montbleau apart from the pack is a dark wit that occasionally surfaces in his lyrics, sometimes prompted by the females of the species. With that in mind, we offer you a bit of Ryan’s Dirty mind.

pee off a fire escape with Ryan!

Jonathan TylerJonathan Tyler & The Northern Lights

From the shadowy, shirtless, Indian headdress wearing figure on the cover of Pardon Me — the raucous ‘n’ wooing debut from Jonathan Tyler & The Northern Lights — to the nakedly lascivious groovers and panty loosening mid-tempo ballads inside, this band seems to know a thing or two about skin-to-skin communication. Their album has the flair and young hunger of early Black Crowes, Faces and other folks with killer riff instincts and an almost unhealthy love of rock. Toss in some of Stevie Ray Vaughan & Double Trouble’s blues bite and hip swing and it’s a pretty attractive package. Listen to Pardon Me here, and the band offers free live downloads here. Sensing he’d have a thing or two to say about the naughty things in his head, we invited Tyler to take our misbehaved survey.

Maggots, chick flicks y mas

Shannon KoehlerThe Stone Foxes

Based on the naked lasciviousness of “Patience” and other four-to-the-floor scorchers on Bears & Bulls, the second album from SF’s The Stone Foxes, this is a band that knows a bit about sex and other filthy things. The Foxes’ Shannon Koehler took time out of their summer touring schedule – including the album release show this Saturday, July 17 Cafe Du Nord in San Francisco – to get into the thick of it with us.

Never look at Vitamin Water the same way again

Scott Metzger
American Babies, Bustle in your Hedgerow (plus about 20 other New York City artists)

Nicknames:”Boots,” “Boom Boom”

Onstage, Scott Metzger exudes a manly aura. Face twisting along with the notes beneath his fingers, he sweats, grunts and grins every bit of hot rock soul he can from his instrument. He’s a lovely blur of brute-force will and ever-mounting skill; the kinda kid that old bluesmen throw an arm around and the ladies grin at while licking sweat from their lips. That’s the reward of being all-in in one’s craft, and Mr. Metzger is surely that. We couldn’t have asked for a finer, earthier motherfucker to kick off the Impound’s salacious new questionnaire.

keep reading for Scott’s views on groupies and Jack in the Box