Grateful Song (and Band) - Day 30 (editors note: Days 27,28,29 skipped...with the intent to revisit) The Mother Hips - Time- Sick Son Of A Grizzly Bear A motherly experience. It wasn’t quite what I was actively searching for in 1997, but it appeared as a gazebo quartet, hidden beneath the tall magnolias cosmically shading my college days in downtown Chico, California. That sunshine feel afternoon (after afternoon); vibrated my ever continuing fascination with authentic musicianship and songwriting. I knew then that I found it. Or perhaps on that later day, the sound of California Soul found me. Good music is and always has been debatable, but true connection? This is individual; you cannot deny someone of a transcendental, magnificent moment. That is one of the things I love about The Mother Hips. The band – breeds and births ballads and rock ready babies – with wailing guitars howling vocals and lyrics telling stories of the behind and the beyond. They offer the world’s partners – or at least for the last 22 years, the Golden State – a healthy dose and a heavy spoonful of celestial California soul. They’ve paid their dues. They’ve slept on a lot of floors. And what is more authentic than a bands commitment, longevity and fan loyalty? One could argue that popularity, the promise of lucrative record contracts, and lavish attempts to conjure the rock star lifestyle could all detour a somewhat successful and promising musical outfit (and the complete story of The Mother Hips is filled with just that – there are those chapters). However, in the end friendship, musical integrity and most importantly – the beautiful and lush sounds seemingly outlast all the nonsense and the noise allowing the pacific dust to settle – shaping the bell. The Mother Hips lifted like thick smoke trails, like a sweet Sierra Nevada Pale Ale pour, and thus there is always a blurry road that leads back to their formation and roots at Chico State. In this small college settlement, many times, the parties never end, many get consumed, and after a four – five-year stint many leave; they move on from this magical town. This place of learning, experimenting, and northern California mysticism plays its tune – The Mother Hips were able to put verse and chorus together in unison birthing a generation of musical devotees, stunt doubles, and super winners, appreciative and faithful always with one foot in the womb and the other in the musical motorhome –ready to follow this band just about anywhere. That’s where The Mother Hips music comes from. That place of time tick son grizzly bears, and white falcon fuzz. I wasn’t in need of a mystical musical moment per se when I discovered the band’s fourth CD, Later Days…I would eventually make my way back to their previous releases. I was 18, a college freshman casually making mistakes and seeking authenticity from an overwhelming amount of new stimuli and personalities. The country-tinged rock allowed me to interpret songs and songwriting in a way that no other band or sound had allowed before. The Hips sang of Cosmonauts, October Teens, and Tired Wings. They challenged me into scenarios of desert isles and pills with no names, female fascinations named Stephanie, Esmeralda and Emilie, and other Rich Little (Channel Island) Girls, of things that seemed to ease my 18-year old thoughts – questioning all the years of rights and wrongs. I will admit it wasn’t until I was living a genuine existence immersed in the Chico college lifestyle, that I fervently began understanding the pandora(ed) content harmoniously buried deep within sing-song contexts. Their voiced blend(ed), their woo-hoos woo-hoo(ed), their hey-hey-hey’s hey-hey-hey(ed). They were brotherly connected, umbilical(ed), and were a constant, committed to the continued exploration of musical landscapes. Like a good life, ignoring all boundaries. Me (then): an apologetic, unsure, non-clairvoyant, post high-school seeker with too much to sort out, figure out, try out, and discover. I needed the same gumption as Tim, Greg, Isaac, and John. I think it was then that this part-timer went full. There was only one way out…and I was (am…still) trying to figure out. There’s only one way out…we’ll see about that. And then I Kissed the Crystal Flake. The Hips songs (for me, at least) are (memories) loved for their familiarity. They are (northern California) seasons loved for their specificity. They are tinged in red tandy, blue tomorrows, and precious opals. These songs are (times) loved because the get repeatedly lost and found (and called on in lulls in misplacing). The thing about a Mother Hips song (for many like-minded) is that they are check marks on the calendars of our lives – like a doctor’s visit letting you know that the gestation is going great – happy and healthy. I am sure that if you listened really closely with a stethoscope that my heart beats to the time signature of an Emergency Exit ---- because it is the sincere delivery of The Hips ability to tell universal stories. It is these stories that they tell that inevitably nurture our souls - pulling us all together. That is it maybe; their music is gentle, loving, and caring. She has all the characteristics of her role: subtle guidance and warmth, an open heart, and a deep ability to comfort in the most needed of times. And just like a mother –most importantly – necessary. . For their twenty year anniversary in 2012 - the band went Back to the Grotto to rediscover the sounds they created on their very first album. The sound of the early formation of The Mother Hips (with then drummer Mike Wolfchuck) – reflected their innocence and youthful willingness to adventure into layered musical terrain – with mere hints at the band they would become. Revisiting these tracks allowed for the band to pay homage to their past; while playing them with a matured and refined whimsical approach – opulent and plush, their catalogue becoming transit and breathing. These days they show it all (to Bad Marie). These days they are all in favor and in 2013 (with the addition of bassit Scott Thunes – he joined in 2010/11)), The Mother Hips are free to go both behind and beyond – nurturing the sound. ‘Cause this is the(ir) sound – they got country rock and bluegrass. Let it bring you (me) down? All in favor…Say I.
Posted on: Sun, 01 Dec 2013 02:12:57 +0000
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