On Saturday, Growl Records/Division Brewing (509 E Abram St, Arlington, 682-252-7639) hosts the EP release of Cease & Desist, a 10-inch vinyl split between two of Fort Worth’s longest-running, highest-octane rock ’n’ roll bands: the Me-Thinks and The Dangits. The EP, recorded at Dangits drummer Russ Gender’s home studio, captures these two titans of crumpled tallboys and crusty, tall amp stacks in all their high-gain, low-stakes glory covering each other’s songs. The Dangits tackle the Me-Thinks’ “Loudensucke” and “Rock Deaf,” while the Me-Thinks put their spin on The Dangits’ “The Devil” and “The Equalizer.”
Of the Me-Thinks’ side, frontman Ray Liberio said, “Our side sounds a little funny because we fucked it up … . I think [The Dangits] took their time a bit. Their versions of our songs sound awesome.”
Besides toasting and roasting the EP’s four tracks, the Cease & Desist release party is also the last time Me-Thinks drummer Jon “Trucker Jon” Simpson will play in the band. He and wife Janet Simpson are moving to South Carolina in a few weeks.
“There are so many great things I’d love to say about my time in the Me-Thinks,” Simpson said, “but what should be known is that being in a band with those guys has been one of the most fun and fulfilling experiences ever. They are the best bunch of friends and bandmates that anyone could ever ask for, and they will be missed dearly.”
Doors to the 21+ show open at 7pm, with the bands starting at 8. The Dangits and Me-Thinks will be joined by Grand Prairie garage rockers Positive Shocks, so expect your ears to get that nice, stuffy, scorched feeling by the end of the night. Mine are ringing just thinking about it!
Art by Ray Liberio
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Fort Worth singer-songwriter Cameron Smith has put out a couple singles this spring in anticipation of Gold & Rust, the debut album he’s releasing on Sep 12. The 13 tracks tell a story about “an ordinary kid on an extraordinary journey,” which Smith introduced in May with “The Way Life Ought to Be,” a duet with Hamilton-born Central Texas-based songwriter Presley Haile. The song, in which Smith’s voice embraces his Crowley roots and love for Blaze, Townes, and Willie, is a country-leaning ballad, using tradition to paint with the hues of self-reflection, fiddle and trumpet providing the shading and highlighting. Smith has always been interested in history, and for him to pivot his songwriting from the punk and indie-rock of his teens and early adulthood to the folk and country music that captivated him as a kid, he’s sort of done a deep dive into his own past, emerging as the kind of songwriter he’s always yearned to be — a storyteller.
“How does a boy become a man without turning into a monster?” This was a question Smith asked himself as Gold & Rust’s songs came together, mapping the narrative out longform as a story, spinning the tale of a kid bound by his own demons, who, pining for freedom from his addictions and despair, finds love and solace in a woman but also the seductive influence of a charlatan known as the Irredeemer. The Irredeemer plants the seeds of nihilism in the rocky soil of the kid’s broken faith with sermons of “artifice and avarice,” encouraging the kid to “become iron in the fire.”
Iron rusts, of course, and Smith’s songs often have a sense of fatalism in them, that time is short but the arc of history is long. On June 20, he released the album’s next single, “Not in Our Stars (the Fine Game of Nil),” which carries the ghosts of bad memories and ennui around like holes in a beloved pair of jeans, as the track’s ramblin’, gamblin’ honkytonk wiggles into the night like a skateboard rattling into the dark at the edge of a parking lot. Despite the song’s breezy boogie — it’s reminiscent of a Jimmy Buffett deep cut like “Big Rig” — the tension between the safety of love and faith and the irresistible attraction of the unknown digs in like a rock in your shoe.
“I know that the fault is not in our stars,” Smith sings. “It’s in these brains that torture us for stories / And paint those lines we keep driving in.”
Is this kid’s fate inescapable? Can the work of the Irredeemer be undone? The answers lie at the end of Smith’s debut album, when the sun sets on a road that goes on forever, even after the story ends.
Jessica Waffles
