Pickathon X Indie Roots Music Festival: Sunday - Pendarvis Farm (Happy Valley, OR; Aug. 3, 2008)

Scattered clouds and a pleasant 54 degrees greet the final morning of Pickathon, a Northwest roots music bash celebrating ten years this August. Fans stumble from their tents, just a little hungover from yesterday’s jam sessions. Suddenly, a curious noise jolts their ears. Snatches of “Har har!” fill the air. From a distance, one suspects a Broadway staging of Pirates of the Caribbean. Kids begin running towards the sound, leading parents to a band of buccaneers.

Welcome aboard Portland’s Captain Bogg and Salty, a sword-wielding group the festival praises for “galloping rock, mermaid lullabies and piratical pop.” This is music for all ages, says Captain Bogg’s website. The act poses a small problem for melophobe, because bona fide pirate musicians elude comparison to any other species of performance art. Still, this crew of six does justice to the one seafaring tune expected of bona fide pirates. All together now: “What Shall We Do With a Drunken Sailor?” On this score, Captain Bogg has some fresh ideas, some of which defy explanation: “Put him in the longboat till he’s sober / Put him in bed with the captain’s daughter / Pull out the plug and wet him all over / Give ‘im the hair of the dog that bit him / Put ‘im in the scuppers with a hosepipe on him / Take ‘im and shake ‘im and try an’ wake ‘im / Early in the morning!”

Along with cures for hangovers, Captain Bogg’s ballads offer advice on another ailment sure to plague marauding men. Listen here, melophobe shipmates: “If you get scurvy / On a pirate ship / Eat a lime!” All together now: “Aye, Captain!”

“The pirate guys this morning were fucking great!” That’s North Carolina-born Laura Stone, a farm hand selling organic grilled chicken, caramelized-onion dogs and salads that look to be putting down roots. Behind their counters, the festival’s food workers hear more music than they see, but Captain Bogg did something for Stone. “I was really tired, feet just dragging, but they had great energy,” she says. “It was really loud and rollicking; everybody was keyed up. The costumes were great, the lyrics were funny, and it was really good, rhythmic, bouncy music. They kind of set the mood.”

“The mood” includes close to 40 performances on Sunday alone: everything from Tennessee wonders Martha Scanlan, the fast-rising everybodyfields, and Justin Townes Earle (son of country-rocker Steve Earle and quite possibly a top Elvis impersonator), to Cross-eyed Rosie of Portland, a talented group on the verge of putting their bluegrass to bed. Let’s not forget Kelly Joe Phelps, Washington State’s gravelly guitar man, or the Cave Singers, whose Seattle brand of folk rock, especially chant-filled “Dancing on our Graves,” simply delights. (Lead Singer Pete Quirk later delivers the day’s comic relief, with a list of Things to Get at Pickathon: a bracelet, a ring for one’s mother—possibly bird-themed—a cool sewn patch and maybe an enchilada.)

Just before noon, there’s commotion on the main stage with the arrival of another Pickathon guest, one melophobe intends to pick apart. This band’s hype meter mirrors levels generated Saturday by Boston string sensation Crooked Still. Today, Pickathon is whispering about Loch Lomond, Portland’s six-to-nine member “chamber-pop” ensemble.

Why?

Here’s one explanation: like Crooked, the emotions driving Lomond’s lyrics can leave the listener feeling uniquely perplexed, that is, awash in juxtapositions of sorrow, amusement, tenderness or anger. “Tic,” for example, off Lomond’s 2006 release Lament for Children, explores the inner wounds of a boy who walks with a limp: “Oh, he’s screaming from his window and his screaming won’t stop / Screaming: I am not an animal and I am not an animal he cried.”

Now contrast that darkness with the whimsy of “Bird and a Bear (I Am the Bird),” off the same album: “Well I have a friend / who looks like a bear / Whenever he throws / his big hands in the air / people tend to leave / And people tend to cry / He lives in a cave / right down the street / And this time of year you’d think he’d be asleep / But he’s not / He’s admiring / his porcelain spoon / collection / His porcelain spoon / collection.”

This is songwriting that sends prickles down one’s neck, and it all falls to Lomond founder, guitarist and lead singer Ritchie Young. As his compositions have matured, so has the band’s membership, so much so that the talent now crooning on stage looks much different than it did when fans first heard “Bird and a Bear” come over the mountain.

Lomond’s reception at Pickathon includes the kind of restless, stilted praise ("You sound amazing!") that fails to convey the totality of the crowd’s appreciation. A power surge has knocked out the festival’s sound system, and people must gather close to take in the band’s acoustics, old-style. Quiet and meandering at first, Lomond’s music rises quickly through elaborate, circus-like cadences that invite mental images of minstrels swaying in a town square. “I’m glad this happened,” says Scott Magee, dipping his bass clarinet.

At stage left, crowded protectively around thin, straw-haired Young, is a cadre of instrumentalists: Magee and Peter Broderick alternate on drums and a xylophone, Amanda Lawrence finesses the viola and Jade Eckler layers on vocals. To the right, Dave Depper works the bass while Laurel Simmons rounds out Lomond’s harmonies with delicate piano scales.

“I was really blown away,” says Jessie Lewis, of Austin, Texas, an eclectic listener and first-time Pickathon attendee. “I’m kind of intrigued as to how they create their songs, because it’s so well composed. Between so many of them I wonder if they have a central person who’s really composing it.”

“You can tell it’s really smart music,” Lewis adds. “You can definitely hear that there are more musical brains going on in there.” (More brains, perhaps, as compared to other Pickathon performers melophobe could single out, notably the sparsely-attended thrashing of duo Paleface.) “It’s like they took as much care as they could with the songs,” Lewis says of Lomond, “and took them to the next level.”

Care to peek behind Lomond’s creative curtain? “I usually write the basic structure of the song,” Ritchie Young tells mel.ophobe. “The way I kind of think about it is that I’m right-handed, and with my left hand I kind of build this thing sloppily. Then I bring it to the band, and I have no clue what we’re playing.” He goes on: “They take this junk, third-grade drawing, and when I get it back, it’s beautiful.” (Read melophobe’s full interview with Loch Lomond below, including confusion over how to pronounce the band’s name and discussion of the thriving Portland indie scene.)

Something beautiful does emerge from Lomond’s latest offering, Paper the Walls, which ups the lyrical ante to include raw numbers like “A Field Report.” Exhibit the chorus: “The sound / of children / laughing / makes my heart bleed.” This particular line sees Sunday’s listeners exchanging glances, and it’s not just because Sufjan Stevens has crept to mind. Pickathon abounds with laughing children and new parents, and some aren’t buying the song. Others, though, like the tired couple sitting cross-legged here in the grass, look touched and exposed, as though they’ve just had a long talk with their therapist.

AND NOW . . . AN INTERVIEW WITH LOCH LOMOND!

As Pickathon wound to a close, melophobe sat down with Loch Lomond founder and lead singer Ritchie Young, along with a new addition to the chamber-pop ensemble, bass clarinetist Scott Magee, as they answered questions from a small group of journalists. What follows is a transcript of the conversation, edited for clarity.

Question: What can you tell us about the confusion over how to pronounce your name?

SCOTT MAGEE: I had heard stories about the band, and long before I ever thought I would play with them, after my first show, I was just totally blown away. But they were “lock leh-MAHND.” I had never heard “lock LOH-mund.” Is it “lock LOH-mund?”

RITCHIE YOUNG: Well, there’s a lake in Santa Cruz named after Loch Lomond, and they call it “lock leh-MAHND.” The band’s named after the lake. But a Scottish friend reprimanded me saying, it’s “lock LOH-mund!”

SCOTT MAGEE: I didn’t know about this whole counter-claim. We’re named after an American lake that happens to be named after a Scottish lake. So I guess now we are “lock leh-MAHND” again. We’re not going to try to become “lock LOH-mund.” That just didn’t work out.

RITCHIE YOUNG: I’d actually rather go with the Scottish people than Santa Cruz. [Long pause.] Anyway . . .

Question: How did the band start?

RITCHIE YOUNG: It started out as a solo act, and I had friends come in and play different things. It’s one of those things where you have friends from five different bands, and you drift apart, which makes it hard to go on tour. So about two years ago? A year and a half ago? We decided to be a band.

Question: Is there anything you can’t play?

SCOTT MAGEE: There is no harpist in our band.

Question: How do you go about writing a song?

RITCHIE YOUNG: I usually write the basic structure of the song. The way I kind of think about it is that I’m right-handed, and with my left hand I kind of build this thing, sloppily. Then I bring it to the band, and I have no clue what we’re playing. They take this junk, third-grade drawing, and when I get it back, it’s beautiful. It feels very good to take this thing and drop it on their plate.

Question: The songwriting feels pretty impressionistic. Is that naturally the way you write? Do you steer clear of stories?

RITCHIE YOUNG: Oh yeah. I’m not good at writing love songs. I don’t try to write them. Love is the last thing on my mind. So many people do it so well that I wouldn’t even try to go there. I think sometimes I feel insecure as we all do, and sometimes I just do it. And those are the times when I try not to look back or I’ll second-guess it.

Question: Does the band have classical training?

SCOTT MAGEE: I have more jazz training, but Ritchie’s just very complimentary when he says these things. I would not consider myself classically trained. Amanda [Lawrence] is a classically-trained viola player. Dave Deppers is a virtuoso sort of bass. But Ritchie is a far better musician than he gives himself credit for. I think that everyone’s passion for the band goes beyond any sort of classical training. We’re much happier working on an original project than on music from another century.

Question: How fast does this all come together?

RITCHIE YOUNG: When I bring the outline of a song, it comes together surprisingly quickly. For the next couple of weeks, we slightly tweak things, and once we play it to the point that it no longer gives us chills, we change it. And after that, if it stops giving us chills, we stop playing it.”

Question: How well do you work together?

SCOTT MAGEE: We sort of work in fits and starts, a little bit here, a little bit there. It’s like a conversation, you know? Sometimes it’s a really good one, when everyone has input. Everyone seems to know what they want to play right away. I may say “Well, I think it needs the clarinet,” and the bass player may say, “Really? I think it needs the drum,” and I’ll say, “Okay, I’ll try both.” Our egos are always sort of respected. I’m having a hard time putting a point on it, because it’s really a very liquid thing.

Question: Scott, you started as a drummer?

SCOTT MAGEE: I am a drummer; that’s my primary instrument. When I first started playing with Loch Lomond I brought a full kit, the cymbals, and maybe a tom-tom. In that manner, drums tend to get a little latter. Apparently, there was some sort of coup that happened. The band decided that my drum setup was going to change without really telling me. And they all went to the captain of the boat and said, “Well, here’s how it’s really going to go down.” Ritchie, in his very smooth way of communicating things, called me and said, “Let’s try something different tonight. Just bring a floor tom and a snare drum.” It was very kind; it made it seem like it was his decision. He sort of took the heat, you know. And I said “I’m fine with that.” I set it up, and at first I didn’t really like it, but I tried it again, and realized there was great potential to go that way and refine it. It became more of a signature way of playing percussion, and one that I feel is part of the originality of the band. It’s more orchestral, and I think that’s something that appealed to everyone in the band. I’ll never go back to a drum kit again.

Question: The Portland music scene is very much on the map. Do you feel part of that?

RITCHIE YOUNG: It feels very warm and good to be on the inside of it. You know, things happen and life changes, but right now it feels very warm. There’s no massive amount of ego; that’s kind of pushed to the side. Everyone for the most part is very kind to one another and open to sharing motivations and working out tour schedules and stuff.

SCOTT MAGEE: We’re older, and we don’t have drug problems. The Portland music scene is very much about being healthy—not like a health nut, or anything—but the music is the driving force and not the lifestyle. I think we’re of a certain caliber where we’ve gotten our craziness out and now we’re ready to make a career.

Question: Do you feel like a national band? Do you feel you have to turn away from the local scene to get to the next level?

SCOTT MAGEE: In November we will be [laughter].

RITCHIE YOUNG: The local scene expects us to do that. They’re always like, “Get out there!” Portland’s a good training ground, I think, to sharpen the sword, and people expect you to go out with that.

Question: What has the penetration been like around the country and abroad?

RITCHIE YOUNG: It’s slow, but it’s building.

SCOTT MAGEE: I think it’s due to our touring schedule having been light, so far. I think our goal over the next couple of years is to become a touring band, because that’s the indication that you’re a music band, driving around and playing a lot of shows.

Question: With seven band members, can’t it get quite expensive and logistically complicated?

RITCHIE YOUNG: It’s not that bad, really.

SCOTT MAGEE: All of that is just like, we’re going to stay positive, and of course it’s expensive, but you just don’t worry about that. 

review to your liking? You'll sweat:

Pickathon X Indie Roots Music Festival: Sunday - Pendarvis Farm (Happy Valley, OR; Aug. 3, 2008)

Crooked Still - Bowery Ballroom (New York, NY; July 16, 2008)

Avi & Celia - Lizard Lounge (Cambridge, MA; Oct. 3, 2008)

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