Category: Artists

Throughout his career, Cory Branan has been too punk for country, too country for punk, too Memphis for Nashville, and probably a little too Cory Branan for anyone’s damn good. He has proven himself as a top-notch songwriter (Chuck Ragan recently called him “the greatest songwriter of our generation”), fierce lyricist (in Lucero’s “Tears Don’t Matter Much” they sing that Cory has, “a way with words that’ll bring you to your knees”), and a hyperdynamic performer with the ability to fingerpick finer than ‘60s Greenwich Village folkies and brutally strum like a proto punk shredder. Throughout his career, he’s made collective struggles poetic and breakthroughs into sympathetic acts of populist heroism.

Cory Branan is a natural-born storyteller, his seemingly conversational, painstakingly crafted anecdotes benefitting from a hard-eyed stare at hydra-headed life experiences. Not unlike his musical and literary pedestal sitters, from John Prine and Leonard Cohen to Raymond Carver and Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Cory’s gift for detail and phrase-turning is a thing of wonder.    There’s a novelistic flair to his writing, an approach full of layers and depth.  Songs seemingly reveal something new with every listen.

Cory has a well-documented history with groups like former label mates Lucero, musicians of his ilk who trend toward the rawer end of roots music (The Loved Ones’ Dave Hause, Chuck Ragan, The Hold Steady, The Gaslight Anthem, Two Cow Garage, Drag the River’s Jon Snodgrass), and rock stars like Chris Carrabba (Dashboard Confessional), who has covered Cory’s gorgeous “Tall Green Grass” and been a reoccurring tour mate.

Never one to shy away from an itinerary of non-stop cross-country shows, Cory possesses a unique performance style that enables him to gravelly sing a coy double entendre in one ear of the audience, while yelling the most beautiful love song into the other.

Josh Small was born in Falls Church, Virginia on the day Mt. St. Helens erupted. Now, he would tell you that a person’s perception of chaos is just as interesting and important as the chaos itself. And I would add that a person’s upbringing-their collective experiences, the things they never talk about, and the songs they stomp out together on the porch-determines the landscape of a life. Josh Small is the child of the first non-traveling generation in a family of gypsies and in his songwriting he captures what seems to be the collective memory of all the transience leading up to his life. He pulls from a legacy of tall tales, extreme loyalty, and bizarre collections to develop layered, diverse stories in which he plays the protagonist. The wily singer with the worn-through boot soles manages to capture a traveling narrative reminiscent of the bard, the ballad of a weary lover, and the “by hook or by crook” self- indulgence of a real rock n’ roller.

Small learned from his father how to play music starting at the age of six, and has since fallen in love with the work of Harry Nilson and Roger Miller. He has become a versatile part of the music scene in Richmond, Virginia. He has toured with bands such as Stop It, Pink Razors, and Strike Anywhere. He’s also a vital member of label mate Tim Barry’s touring band. Small’s debut release for Suburban Home, “Tall by Josh Small” was recorded by Lance Koehler at Minimum Wage Studio in the Oregon Hill neighborhood of Richmond. The result is an album filled with a melody-driven blend of folk music and 70’s style rock. But don’t be misled: this isn’t a lame hipster attempt to revitalize a bygone genre. There is a rare authenticity to Small’s sound that is impossible to ignore. Lyrically, the album can be read as a sort of therapy session for Small. It’s this brutally honest, almost stream-of-consciousness approach to songwriting that gives the album its greatest strength – when he sings “If New York City’s all you need, you don’t need me” you know that he means it. It’s an earnestness that cannot be faked, only felt. As Small says, “My right hand knows something that my brain doesn’t. I just let it wiggle on its own.”

The Coloradas formed in 2011, as two songwriters and a handful of virtuosic bluegrass musicians, trying to create something meaningful in a gone-but-not-forgotten little apartment in Portland, Maine. The result was their self-titled debut, a collection of end-of-the-world bluegrass stomps and sad country ballads. Shortly after its release in the US, Germany-based label Hometown Caravan put it out on vinyl in Europe, and sent the band on two tours in Germany. They haven’t stopped performing, writing, and recording since.

Big Empty is the newest recording, to be released on October 22nd, the year 2013. It often sounds like the blues. It sometimes sounds like country music, back when country music sounded like itself. There are moments of mountain bluegrass, dark folk, and old time. The songs are written and earnestly delivered, re-interpreted as folk music, complete with fingerpicked guitars, clawhammer banjo, and soulful mandolin. There’s a pentecostal junkyard man, a soldier with a drinking problem, and a handful of first-person narratives.

The Coloradas currently tour the US in a 1986 Toyota Motorhome playing performing arts spaces, roots music festivals, house concerts, and other listening-based venues. They also travel to Europe several times a year. The live show is an experiment in finding common ground between American roots genres with improvisation and creativity, while staying true to their basic source of inspiration: the songs.

Roy Davis (songs, vocals, acoustic guitars) currently splits his time between Maine and his home away from home on the Bodensee in Austria. For the Coloradas, he wears the hat of audio engineer, manager, graphic designer, documentarian, and motorhome mechanic. He also travels as a solo performer.

Bernie Nye (songs, vocals, banjo, acoustic guitar, harmonica) lives in Maine with his lady and their cat Dinah. When not performing with The Coloradas, he works on a farm.

Joe Walsh (mandolin) is a guest performer with the band, appearing whenever and wherever they are lucky enough to have him. Caveat: going to a Coloradas show does not guarantee that you will see Joe Walsh play the mandolin..