“To heed the beat, surprised you pulled around/ Stoke the fire, I know you feel put out.” “Fight to fold, to spin you can’t sit down/ Too old to win, too young to hit the ground,” the song goes. “We yelled, “Guys keep going!” and wrote lyrics about what we were feeling in that moment.” Rateliff and I were at the kitchen table drinking tequila and started singing a little melody,” Wilson remembers. “Adrian had a riff that was cool and really funky. Rateliff, who planned on sitting in for a single session but stayed for three days of recording (and epic naked hot tub soaks), makes a featured appearance on “I Know,” an inspired, emotional collaboration that happened in an instant. On their first morning together, as Blum fixed a breakfast of migas (and mezcal), the Glorietta crew recorded Gundersen’s “Lincoln Creek,” harmonizing on the chorus, a tender relatable truth for the touring musicians in the room: “Somewhere someone is singing for free/ The tab and a couple of 20s is all they need/ Somewhere someone is singing for free/ Thank god it ain’t me.” It was … different but there was a certain seamlessness to it that felt very organic and it was special.” Gundersen described the makeshift studio this way: “Shit was everywhere. It was like, ‘That’s how this week is gonna go.’ And it never slowed down after that.” “And that very first night, within the first few hours we had set up, written and recorded a really solid song. You’re all going to love each other,’” Wilson said. “Basically, Vasquez threw us into a house together and said, ‘We’re gonna do this thing, don’t worry about it. Vasquez - their connection to each other - served as maestro of the vibe. Ramirez nearly balked under the weight of “possibly the worst hangover of my life.” Gundersen was in the middle of a break-up induced “meltdown.” Wilson, worried she might not fit in with the guitar-playing boys, needed a nudge, too.īut once the kindred strangers unpacked the gear and poured the tequila, hangovers, heartaches and insecurities faded. The collection of strangers and acquaintances didn’t know what to expect, and frankly a few of them almost didn’t show up. To round out the crew, Vasquez called his long-time pal Nathaniel Rateliff, who agreed to pop in along with backing musicians Patrick Meese and Luke Mossman. Vasquez tapped Seattle solo-artist Noah Gundersen and Austin artists Kelsey Wilson (Wild Child) and Jason Robert Blum, a prolific songwriter. Adrian and David were in on it immediately.” I thought fondly of the experience making the Middle Brother record with John McCauley (Deer Tick, Diamond Rugs) and Taylor Goldsmith (Dawes), and how fun that was. “I’ve been making my solo records and wanted to play with friends. After the show, the three of them had such a good time that Vasquez promised himself not to let the best drunken idea of the night - recording a stream-of-conscious record with buddies - to disappear with his tequila buzz. Grammy-nominated Austin artist Adrian Quesada (Brown Out, Black Pumas) scored a 1975 Fender Super Reverb amp that Vasquez posted online for $700.Īs Vasquez tells it, he and Quesada went for a “grown-ass man hang” at Antone’s to catch a set by Texas raconteur David Ramirez. In a way, though, Glorietta was conceived long before that thanks to a serendipitous Craigslist connection. Drop the needle on Glorietta to get transported to a remote New Mexico mountain town at the very moment, in a tequila-soaked jam session, an unlikely singer-songwriter super group was born.In 12 songs, Glorietta - a self-titled “friend record” (Nine Mile Records, 2018)- captures rocking, heartbreaking and introspective songs recorded by pals of Matthew Logan Vasquez (Delta Spirit, Middle Brother) at a ramshackle rental outside Santa Fe over five days.
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