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My first Say Zuzu song was "Pennsylvania." It opened with an acoustic guitar strum and just the breath of an organ note behind it. Then a little electric riff breezed through just as the drums kicked in. Finally (it was only 10 seconds, maybe) the vocals entered: "Driving down to Pennsylvania/ As a favor to a friend of mine/ Seems like a lonely proposition/ But I got time." I was totally hooked. That voice, dripping with nostalgia, paired with instrumentation that was like walking out your front door on a summer morning into sunshine that just about knocks you over. I won’t pretend I became some kind of Zuzu connoisseur, going back to buy up all their back catalog, but if their last record, Every Mile, was an LP, I’d have worn the grooves right out of it. I thought maybe that’s all I’d have of Jon Nolan’s voice and that breathtaking alt-country-done-right when Say Zuzu broke up in early 2003. I was alright with that. Local bands come and go and I had an album and some songs on the Greetings compilations to tide myself over. Of course, Say Zuzu were a little more than just a local band. They got in on that whole alt-country thing pretty early. They traveled the States and beyond, selling 10,000 discs in Italy alone. They had fans who flat-out loved them. Still, Nolan says the band just one day realized they were ready to pack it in. All those successes with the band, says Nolan, "those are unique experiences in themselves, but to get to do them with your brother and your best pal, that’s something else, and that’s what I miss the most about having a band." "We always wanted to have wives and families, and being intimately involved with rock and roll we always sort of said, ‘How are we going to get there?’ And we always said we’d figure it out when the time came. Well the time came. We never wanted to dial it back, be that band that plays the Press Room once a month. We didn’t want to be one of those bands who should have quit three years ago." So they broke up. "I thought about going to the nine-to-five," says Nolan, "but then I wrote "Mary (Won’t You Come Along)" [yes, he actually says it like it’s in parentheses], and I thought, ‘Shit, I really like this song. Why do I feel like I’ve written one of the best songs I’ve ever written?’ Then I just stopped apologizing to myself for feeling compelled to write and perform music." Soon, Nolan was recording music in a shack behind his house, or in his kitchen — anywhere. He found himself with some good, maybe great, songs. He found he liked the power of being solo a little bit. "A lot of the songs were demos that ended up being keepers," says Nolan. "I would lay down an acoustic track. Jay [Beyer] would be there. I’d say, ‘Hey, why don’t you play your electric?’ Then, at the end of the day, I’d say, ‘Jay, what do you think about this?’ He’d say, ‘I like it.’ I’d say, ‘No, I don’t like it,’ and it would be gone." "I could do anything I wanted." He let some of those songs sit for a while so he could put together a band. Drummer Ken Schopf, bassist Nolan McKelvey, and organ player Jim Gambino found their way onto what would eventually be When the Summers Lasted Long, Nolan’s debut solo project that never really strayed very far from those initial sessions. Mostly, they’re really poppy country-rock (like the Beach Boys playing Traveling Wilburys songs, maybe) songs that play on Nolan’s penchant for looking back with melancholy nostalgia that might make your eyes water over a bit, but doesn’t quite make you sad. Mostly, Nolan’s songs make you happy that you ever got a chance to feel all those wonderful things in the first place. "Say Zuzu was the vehicle that brought me from 16 to 30," says Nolan of the album’s feel. "For the most of that time, I guess I was naïve and expected that we’d always stay together. Well, it became clear that that was not necessarily for sure." He laughs. "So the album deals with the transition from youth into adulthood. I mean, in the matter of six weeks time, my band broke up, we bought our first house, I turned 30, and we got pregnant with twins." So, he was growing up fast. The result opens with slow rimshots counting off time, then builds in an acoustic riff, before the bass line enters, as the electric just whispers in the background. Jon comes in with vocals: "I found a tune in the basement/ When I was still my mother’s son/ Yeah, I’m trying hard not to waste it/ Or get by for a song/ Cuz so much is riding on it." It’s called "So Much," and it’s just the introduction to "Mary (Won’t You Come Along)," which knocked me down right from the first listen. It’s full of piano and acoustic guitar, shiny cymbals and lyrics like this: "Remember when the summers lasted long/ It seemed like the sun would never set/ Well don’t you set the sun down on me now/ Sure you’d trade your sense for wisdom/ Everything’s different than it was before/ It only makes me need you by me more." There’s plenty more where that came from, but it’s important to just remember that everything’s different than it was before. The summers, they’re way too short now. Sam Pfeifle can be reached at sam@phx.com |
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Issue Date: July 29 - August 4, 2005 Back to the Music table of contents |
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