by Joseph Williams | Chief Copy Editor

Johnny Bertram

If lyrics are a musician’s heart, and styles and influences are his arms and legs, then Johnny Bertram is a very sensitive octopus. Every album he cuts is a new extension of his developing musical prowess.

His first two recordings are “Live From My Bedroom” and a self-titled album, both solo EPs telling of the musician’s roots. They are drawn from emotional and spiritual inspection, with simple musical epiphanies and vocals that seem to rise from the earth, easily recalling the folk rock tradition that influenced Bertram early on. “Live From my Bedroom” comes first in chronology and style, Johnny’s early talent marking itself out on his lonesome guitar strings, a companion to the likes of Nick Drake and Donavan. The second EP, “Johnny Bertram,” is a logical next step. The acoustic guitar and the lonely American countryside are both still present, but relegated to the background, washed, rinsed and separated by indie rock stylings, subtle drum beats, and, quite literally, bells and whistles.

Where his second album betrays Johnny’s burgeoning fascination with sound mixing, this mild interest seems to overwhelm him in “Evenings and Weekends,” an album produced in collaboration with the global electro-rockers Synthar. This four-man band writes their songs between Jackson, New York, California and China, sharing input, recordings and edits online. The album is a creature of the electronic media from whence it came. It is definitely an avant-garde experiment for Johnny, and a quite successful one. Its rock-and-roll undertones, dance grooves and Johnny’s catchy Americana melodies balance a wild electronic parade. When compared to his first two recordings, “Evenings and Weekends” is definitely an adventure into a new wilderness for this soft-spoken songwriter.

His newest 2008 demos are a culmination of all of the above. They soothe you with sad folky reminiscence before crying out with sudden impassioned electric guitar riffs and synthesizers that alternately lull and grope, all of it forever floating on Johnny’s wood-smoke vocals. While he gracefully unloads the madness of his Synthar experimentations into these lyrical emotional protests, the songs remain classic, soft-spoken and as desperate as Leonard Cohen pining for Suzanne.

So check out craftsman Johnny Bertram, the musical octopus. Each album is unique, all tied together by his undeniably enormous heart. Listen as he hurts and loves and tries for all his worth to communicate these elusive pangs with a variety of engaging techniques. If you are a fan of any rock and roll development since the Beatles, you’ll surely find a side of Johnny to love.

Thomas Jackson

If you’ve ever run against the law, been burned by crazy women, or have generally screwed up, you’ve got a friend in Thomas Jackson. He sings desperation and hums madness like lullabies for self-destructive Southerners who can’t sleep till dawn breaks. In his happier moments, his white boy blues flirt with Buddy Holly pop rock influences, and on his darker days he writes songs with a lusty devil on his shoulder. His recently released Pound Cake Blues is an example of the latter. Having been called “a turning point in his artistic evolution,” this single is a haunting noir anthem, a dark justification for the bad decisions we’ve made and a harsh whispered promise for more to come. Whether it’s for a fine addition to your record collection or for fear of Mississippi’s darkest musical demons, Jackson is sure to leave you looking over your shoulder.