FRANK BLACK “Fastman / Raiderman” Irish Release on 16th June 2006 ...on Cooking Vinyl Records   ::: New Double CD from the Pixies Frontman :::   Features a stellar collection of Legendary Musicians   Following the critical success of 2005’s “Honeycomb”, Pixies icon Frank Black will see the release of his ambitious new double-CD, “Fastman/Raiderman”, on Friday 16th June.   Paired again with producer Jon Tiven, the 27-song CD was recorded over a two-year period at studios in Nashville and Los Angeles, and slams a bit harder than the laid-back “Honeycomb”.   “Fastman/Raiderman” features some of the most celebrated players in music, including Levon Helm from The Band, Tom Petersson from Cheap Trick, Heartbreaker drummer Steve Ferrone, the legendary Al Kooper, honky-tonk hero Marty Brown, songwriting enigma P.F. Sloan, and Simon Kirke from Bad Company and Free, as well as “Honeycomb” ‘returnees’ Steve Cropper, Reggie Young, Buddy Miller, Spooner Oldman and Chester Thompson, to name just a few.   For Black, the recording of “Fastman/Raiderman” was a bit of a homecoming. “On Honeycomb I was walking on eggshells,” he admits about his renowned ‘back-up’ band. “These guys are still legends, but now that we’d hung around a bit, I was more at ease.”   Songs on “Fastman/Raiderman” include the somewhat bizarre ‘Kiss My Ring’, the almost hallucinogenic ‘Dog Sleep’, and the overlay of the lyrically obscure and the body-punch, visceral groove of ‘In the Time of My Ruin’.  ‘Highway to Lowdown’, ‘Sad Man’s Song’, and ‘Where the Wind Is Going’ were originally recorded for “Honeycomb” but didn’t match that album’s laid-back feel so have been in hibernation until now. ‘Fitzgerald’ and ‘Elijah’ look back to when Black and the Pixies were just beginning to turn rock music inside out from their home base in Boston, and ‘My Terrible Ways’ is a true, tragic story of heroism in the devastation in Mississippi from Hurricane Katrina.   One of Black’s favorites is the track ‘Raiderman’ which was recorded one lazy summer night at Tiven’s house in Nashville.  It boasts an accompaniment from a chorus of cicadas chirping in the backyard and Tiven’s dog Sammy, who made himself heard right before the second verse. “That provides a nice backdrop to this tale of a Polish coal miner who lost his legs to the coal train,” Black says. “He ends up being a security man after he gets fired by the coal company, chasing the Raiderman away.”   As Black is fond of doing, some of the new songs were recorded in a single 24-hour marathon session with musicians coming and going in three shifts and only one two-hour break for some shuteye.   “We gutted it out on sheer adrenaline,” Tiven remembers. “By the end things were getting surreal and we were just going with the untamed forces of the universe. If you’re halfway between waking and sleeping, you can do things with a song that might not normally seem possible.”   Black plans to put together a band that can support the songs on “Fastman/Raiderman” and hit the road later this year.  First, he’ll join his Pixies’ bandmates on a European summer tour.     Nobody is as fast as Frank Black.  His work with the Pixies was like a string of firecrackers: tiny songs, most of them just over a couple of minutes long, that pop against the cold stone surface of pop music, each one leaving its mark on the landscape.   Nobody raids the pop music trove like Frank Black.  From the formative years as a punk rock innovator through, on last year’s Honeycomb, Americana, he grabs every treat within his reach, rolls it around, and hands it back, Frank Blackened to the core.   Thus, the title of his new, most ambitious record: a sprawl of music on two discs, recorded over nearly two years with unlikely accomplices – veterans from immortal rhythm sections (Motown, Stax, Muscle Shoals, Phil Spector’s Wrecking Crew), guys you’d never expect to find working together (Levon Helm from the Band, Tom Petersson from Cheap Trick, Buddy Miller, honky-tonk hero Marty Brown, songwriting enigma P. F. Sloan), plus a former Catholic or two.   Fastman Raiderman picks up where Black’s Honeycomb album left off.   Paired again with producer Jon Tiven (B.B. King, Wilson Pickett, Graham Parker), he offers 27 songs, from the somewhat bizarre (“Kiss My Ring”) to reflections on the dark sides of recent history (“Raiderman”) and the almost hallucinogenic (“Dog Sleep”) and the overlay of the lyrically obscure and the body-punch, visceral groove (“In The Time Of My Ruin”).   What’s interesting is that each of these four particular songs stem from a different recording session, each one exposing a distinctive shade of Black.  The more you listen, the clearer their nuances become – and, paradoxically, the more the big picture comes together.   Here’s the breakdown.   The Honeycomb Session, April 2004 Stranded in post-divorce in Portland, Oregon, Black decides to stir up some music with Tiven.  They had collaborated previously on the Headache EPs of 1994.  Since then, Tiven had left New York for Nashville.  He sets the stage, lines up an Olympian assembly of musicians, books time at Dan Penn’s studio, and as Black tries to relax in the presence of players he had idolized since childhood – Steve Cropper, Reggie Young, Spooner Oldham – starts rolling tape.   The results are thoughtful, reflective, and quietly soulful, except for a few cuts that slam a bit harder.  “Songs Like ‘Kiss My Ring, ‘Highway to Lowdown’, ‘Sad Man’s Song’ and ‘Where The Wind Is Going’ didn’t have that laid-back feeling of Honeycomb,” Black says.  “I was sad to see those songs go, but we decided to set them aside.”   And so four songs go into hibernation and wait for the right moment to spring back to life.  That moment would come eventually, but first …   All-Nighter at Cowboy Jack’s, October 2004 Maybe six months after wrapping up Honeycomb, Black finds one empty day on his calendar, between Pixies concerts at Nashville’s Ryman Auditorium and in Tampa.  Rather than spend the day crashed on a hotel bed, he calls Tiven again to see if he could get a few of the guys together for another round.   Some are free, including Cropper and drummer Billy Block.  Others aren’t.  And Penn’s studio isn’t available.  So Tiven summons a strange combination of players to Cowboy Jack Clement’s studio.  Motown’s Bob Babbitt, Cheap Trick’s Petersson and drummer Simon Kirke from Free show up ready to play, and Levon Helm actually drives in from New York to make this date.  Black calls a couple of his friends too: steel guitarist Rich Gilbert, who had played with Frank Black & The Catholics, and guitarist Lyle Workman, who goes back with Black to Teenager Of The Year and has just finished scoring a new film about to be released, The 40 Year Old Virgin.   In the end, so many players want in that Black crams them all in a single 24-hour session, with musicians coming and going in three shifts and only one two hour break for some shuteye.   “I just wanted to do a session,” Black explains.  “But it doesn’t take long before I start thinking like, ‘Hey there’s going to be a bunch of guys there.  If I show up with 15 songs, we might get a record out of this.’   I wasn’t sure about it when we finished though, because everything had turned into a bit of blur.”   “We gutted it out on sheer adrenalin,” Tiven remembers.  “By the end things were surreal and we were just going with the untamed forces of the universe.  If you’re halfway between waking and sleeping, you can do things with a song that might not normally seem possible.”   Another Nashville Dance, October 2005 A year passes.  Black comes back to Nashville for the Americana Festival.  Once again he calls Tiven, this time with a little more slack in his schedule.  By now it’s like homecoming.  Cropper, Reggie Young, Buddy Miller, everybody says hi to Black as if they’d just run into him yesterday.  Black, too, is relaxed: “On Honeycomb I was walking on eggshells,” he admits.  “They’re still legends, but now that we’d hung around a bit, I was more at ease.”   Augmented once again by some of Black’s old friends, including Gilbert and saxophonist Jack Kidney, whom he had met through David Thomas of Pere Ubu, this lineup cut the last of the Nashville tracks for Fastman Raiderman.  Some of them – “Fitzgerald”, “Elijah” – look back to when Black and the Pixies were just beginning to turn rock music inside out from their home base in Boston.  Others ponder more recent events – a true, tragic story of heroism in Hurricane Katrina’s devastation of Southern Mississippi on “My Terrible Ways”.  The musicians play with an easy familiarity; their communion, and their understanding of this material, elevate Black’s artistry.    But there’s electricity here too, especially in an unplanned final session.  After three days of recording Black ambles back to Cowboy Jack’s to hang out as Tiven adds a couple of overdubs.  The producer has brought a friend, Marty Brown, to do some backup harmony.  As members of the band from the previous day’s session strip down their gear, the two singers talk.  Brown, raised in Kentucky’s wild hills and know throughout Nashville for his raw, down-home delivery, has only a vague idea of who Black is – and vice versa. Yet soon none of that matters.   “We were playing songs back and forth, trying to get to know each other,” Black recalls.  “I said something about divorce songs, and he said, ‘Yeah, I got me one of those.’  And he picks up his guitar, and I swear, as he was sitting in this chair his legs kept moving towards the floor until he was basically on bended knee.  His eyes closed, as if in prayer.  And he performed this song like he was at the Grammies or on the Super Bowl halftime show.  It was like ‘Whoa! I’ve got to work with you right now!””   Black doesn’t have any more of his own songs ready, so he suggests covering Ewan MacColl’s “Dirty Old Town”.  Brown is game, and Black asks the band to set up and join them on one more track.  When Black spells out the arrangement he’d dreamed up that morning, and Buddy Miller finds a rumbling low riff on guitar, and Billy Block punches it up with a swaggering drum groove, the two singers nail it, as if they’d been singing about grimy factory life together for years.   Idyll at Tiven’s, September 2005 There was just one track cut on this lazy, late summer night at the producer’s house, but Black singles it out as his favourite in this collection.  It captures him with Duane Jarvis on acoustic guitars, doing “Raiderman” with accompaniment from a chorus of cicadas chirping in the backyard and Tiven’s dog Sammy, who makes himself heard right before he second verse.  “That provides a nice backdrop to this tale of a Polish coal miner who lost his legs to the coal train,” Black says.  “He ends up being a security man after he gets fired by the coal company, chasing the Raiderman away …”   West Coast Wrap, January 2006 A birthday party for Black in L.A. triggers the last four tracks.  Tiven shows up with a friend: P.F. Sloan, whose “Eve of Destruction” flared out of radio speakers throughout the world in the mid-sixties, as if to herald his arrival and departure at the same moment.  The producer is just beginning to work with Sloan on a new album; Black has already contributed some duet vocals, which he’d mailed from Japan.  But it’s soon obvious that Fastman Raiderman requires a denouement – one more session, this time in L.A.   And so a new cast gathers a few months later, as Black comes to the coast to guest on Henry Rollins’ TV show: drummers Jim Keltner and Steve Ferrone, bassist Carol Kaye, Dave Phillips on steel guitar, Duane Jarvis – who had played at some of the Nashville dates – on guitar, and Sloan on piano.  Black, inspired, starts getting up at five in the morning to write for this new configuration of energies and talents.  There’s a lot to do, in a ridiculously short amount of time.  So when the studio date arrives, Black leaves his hotel, feeling unprepared, feeling as if there was no way he can pull off one more time what he’d done on Nashville …   …. Feeling, to tell the truth, pretty damn good.   “There’s a high that comes from not being ready,” he says.  “It’s like gambling.  I knew I’d bitten off more than I could chew, but there’s something great about saying ‘Just do it, man!’  And of course it all worked out.”   These tracks hit with a harder rock feel that the stuff Black had laid down in Nashville.  “Maybe it’s because I’m from L.A. and I felt like I was back in my ‘hood,” he muses.  “But I felt like I was pulling this music up from my past.  P. F. Sloan was a big influence, especially on ‘It’s Just Not Your Moment.’  I was soaking up whatever information I could get from him about L.A. and the sixties, and a lot of that went into what we did together.”   The Meaning Of It All Black is already moving past this milestone double CD.  Feelers are out to put a band together that can support this material on the road – not an easy assignment, but considering the caliber of the players he’s connected with over these past couple of years, hardly impossible.   “But I would never do anything as hokey as to tie the title of this album to me,” Black insists, “even though I worked on all these tracks in fast, intense bursts, with the fastest guys and gals out there.  And I’ve been able to raid all kinds of mojos in rock and country that I’d never been able to dip into before because I didn’t have the credentials.  But now I feel like I can record with anybody because I know the guy at the door who can get us in, you know what I mean?”   Black laughs, like a kid who knows how to finagle his way backstage at a Pixies reunion when he shares with his friends how it all came down.  That’s Fastman Raiderman too: It’s rock & roll and something deeper, it’s country and something more urgent, all at the same time.   It’s Frank Black, and that’s all that really needs to be said.   www.cookingvinyl.com