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Casey Meehan, "Violet"
Tense Forms
The air is thick, muggy, and full of nervous chatter. The congregationfinds their seats with the help of ushers dressed in black suits,polite in their assistance and insistence that the growing crowd findtheir seats. The tent is makeshift at best, made from old bed sheetsand a few cracks in the seams are visible to those who look above. Noone is sure what to expect. They've heard the tales of this newminister and his new gospel, but they are apprehensive, perhaps even alittle frightened at the prospect. Then, suddenly, the lights dim, andthe stage explodes with horns, guitar, bass, and heavy percussion. Asthe lights restore the minister sings, no, howlsthe sermon with a boogie that is just shy of satanic, and thecongregation can't help but rise to their feet and join in with theminimal choir that accompanies him. Casey Meehan is that minister, andhis songs aren't the old or new testament, but they are lessons for theweak nonetheless. He sings of being baptised, of being born again, andwith titles like "Who Will Be Saved?" and "Do Right" his mission isclear. He may not be of a formal religion, but he is here to shepherdthe meek through the valley, and he will do so with a bit of Dixie, abit of Storyville, New Orleans, and a lot of moxy and sensual vocalprowess reminiscent of Mark Sandman and Greg Dulli. These songs are thelessons of a man who has been through it all, who sees the masks we allput on and who wants to shatter them, hurling a reality with the forceof a fastball; and like any good evangelist he has sinned as much asthose he tries to save. His band, the Delta Still, are a tight, fierceensemble, and the songs are punishing in places and delicate in others:whatever it takes to get the message out right. The instrumentals aremassive, and through it all Meehan carries the weight with ease, sexingthe microphone for all its worth. For his first record, Meehan isshooting out of the gate, heading down the track at full speed. Catchhim if you can.
The air is thick, muggy, and full of nervous chatter. The congregationfinds their seats with the help of ushers dressed in black suits,polite in their assistance and insistence that the growing crowd findtheir seats. The tent is makeshift at best, made from old bed sheetsand a few cracks in the seams are visible to those who look above. Noone is sure what to expect. They've heard the tales of this newminister and his new gospel, but they are apprehensive, perhaps even alittle frightened at the prospect. Then, suddenly, the lights dim, andthe stage explodes with horns, guitar, bass, and heavy percussion. Asthe lights restore the minister sings, no, howlsthe sermon with a boogie that is just shy of satanic, and thecongregation can't help but rise to their feet and join in with theminimal choir that accompanies him. Casey Meehan is that minister, andhis songs aren't the old or new testament, but they are lessons for theweak nonetheless. He sings of being baptised, of being born again, andwith titles like "Who Will Be Saved?" and "Do Right" his mission isclear. He may not be of a formal religion, but he is here to shepherdthe meek through the valley, and he will do so with a bit of Dixie, abit of Storyville, New Orleans, and a lot of moxy and sensual vocalprowess reminiscent of Mark Sandman and Greg Dulli. These songs are thelessons of a man who has been through it all, who sees the masks we allput on and who wants to shatter them, hurling a reality with the forceof a fastball; and like any good evangelist he has sinned as much asthose he tries to save. His band, the Delta Still, are a tight, fierceensemble, and the songs are punishing in places and delicate in others:whatever it takes to get the message out right. The instrumentals aremassive, and through it all Meehan carries the weight with ease, sexingthe microphone for all its worth. For his first record, Meehan isshooting out of the gate, heading down the track at full speed. Catchhim if you can.samples:
