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EAGLESMITH SECRET TOO WELL KEPT
by Randy Burton, The StarPhoenix
The Star Phoenix (Saskatoon, Saskatchewan)
April 25, 2006 Tuesday
Final Edition
Shaunt Parthev is definitely not your typical country music fan.
He's an Armenian immigrant who has never lived on a farm, a Saskatoon
lawyer who pilots a Jaguar rather than a tractor.
But for reasons he can't quite explain, Parthev is a "Fredhead,"
one of a small band of intensely loyal fans who attend every Fred
Eaglesmith concert they can and buy all the CDs they can find.
"For some reason, his songs speak to me every time I go to see him,"
says Parthev, who has seen the Canadian singer-songwriter about
12 times.
"My friend keeps laughing about the songs that I listen to. He says
'you know, when he's singing about foreclosure and the bank and the
man, you do realize you are the man, not the guy being foreclosed
on.' "
That doesn't matter to Parthev. He keeps a "Fredhead" pin stuck in
the headliner of his car, where his six-CD changer is loaded with
nothing but Eaglesmith. After a year or so, he considers adding a
new one to the mix.
Every time Eaglesmith comes to Saskatoon, Parthev buys eight or 10
tickets and takes a group of friends. Inevitably, the experience
won't be for everyone. It will leave a couple of people cold and
a few more will thank Parthev politely and move on. But at least a
couple of Parthev's guests will be hooked and new Fredheads will be
born. They will come under the thrall of the Eaglesmith mystique that
attracts people from miles around.
Like the local fellow who struggled to Saturday's show at the
Concordia club a day after having his appendix out. (He said it
was done laparascopically, so the sacrifice was manageable.) Or the
Carnduff teacher at one of Eaglesmith's past shows, who left school
at three in the afternoon and arrived a couple of minutes before
showtime at eight. As soon as the show was over, he turned around
and drove five hours back home, because he had to teach the next day.
They all have their reasons. Each Eaglesmith show is a unique blend
of Canadian roots music, road stories and home-brewed political
philosophy.
The man is part songwriter, part musician, part raconteur and part
comedian. Depending on his mood, he will vary the proportions of
those ingredients.
What doesn't change is his willingness to tell you exactly what he
thinks. At every show, Eaglesmith offers up his views on a wide variety
of topics, including the state of the music world (rap music will make
you sterile), national politics and our "Canadian president"), child
rearing, gun registration and popular culture, among other things.
His storytelling tends to compete with his singing for air time,
but he's so damn funny, no one in the audience seems to care.
However, there's no doubt the real attraction is the songs.
Eaglesmith is easily one of Canada's best songwriters, but the country
has yet to fully wake up to it.
Other singers have, though. Eaglesmith has been covered by plenty of
artists who know a good thing when they see it, such as The Cowboy
Junkies, Blackie and the Rodeo Kings and Mary Gauthier, among others.
If Bruce Springsteen had been born in the country instead of urban
New Jersey, he might have sounded a bit like this.
Eaglesmith can be hopelessly sentimental, such as when he sings about
an old cowboy dying of cancer brought on by a lifetime of chewing
tobacco, or he can be a real hard-ass (and I mean that in a good way),
such as when he sings that "it's time to get a gun."
He writes about snowplows and Indian motorcycles, steel guitars and
broken hearts. You can get a feel for his work from song titles like
Mighty Big Car, 49 Tons and especially, I Ain't Ever Givin' In.
Eaglesmith shuns the big record companies and plays no part whatever in
the commercial music industry. His shows are often sparsely advertised,
if at all, but it doesn't seem to hurt him any.
His popularity is driven by word of mouth and the Internet, where he
sells his records and keeps his fans informed of his punishing tour
schedule. The people who care are plugged in, so much so that they
are bugging local promoter Rob Hodgins for tickets even before they
go on sale.
Eaglesmith is part of the growing indie music scene, one of hundreds
of artists that are making it outside the mainstream. They do it by
putting out their own records, and running their own tours, playing
in small halls and relying on word of mouth to build a following.
Eaglesmith has added a couple of wrinkles of his own, such as a musical
train ride through the Rockies, and a couple of his own "Fredfests"
where he hosts a number of other independent artists.
Northwinds Entertainment's Hodgins says there are many artists like
Eaglesmith who are making a go of it off the commercial grid.
"These guys can be viable selling 5,000 to 10,000 units, where they
could never be viable in the commercial industry unless they sold
100,000 units. There are just so many more mouths to feed there."
Even after 25 years in the business, Eaglesmith says he's perfectly
happy if this is as good as it gets.
The other night at the Concordia club, he talked about driving by
Credit Union Centre on his way into town, where he noticed all the
assorted tour buses and semi-trailers it takes to tour a commercial
country act like Brooks and Dunn.
He pays attention to things like that, he deadpans, because "sometimes
I see those guys on their way down."
by Randy Burton, The StarPhoenix
The Star Phoenix (Saskatoon, Saskatchewan)
April 25, 2006 Tuesday
Final Edition
Shaunt Parthev is definitely not your typical country music fan.
He's an Armenian immigrant who has never lived on a farm, a Saskatoon
lawyer who pilots a Jaguar rather than a tractor.
But for reasons he can't quite explain, Parthev is a "Fredhead,"
one of a small band of intensely loyal fans who attend every Fred
Eaglesmith concert they can and buy all the CDs they can find.
"For some reason, his songs speak to me every time I go to see him,"
says Parthev, who has seen the Canadian singer-songwriter about
12 times.
"My friend keeps laughing about the songs that I listen to. He says
'you know, when he's singing about foreclosure and the bank and the
man, you do realize you are the man, not the guy being foreclosed
on.' "
That doesn't matter to Parthev. He keeps a "Fredhead" pin stuck in
the headliner of his car, where his six-CD changer is loaded with
nothing but Eaglesmith. After a year or so, he considers adding a
new one to the mix.
Every time Eaglesmith comes to Saskatoon, Parthev buys eight or 10
tickets and takes a group of friends. Inevitably, the experience
won't be for everyone. It will leave a couple of people cold and
a few more will thank Parthev politely and move on. But at least a
couple of Parthev's guests will be hooked and new Fredheads will be
born. They will come under the thrall of the Eaglesmith mystique that
attracts people from miles around.
Like the local fellow who struggled to Saturday's show at the
Concordia club a day after having his appendix out. (He said it
was done laparascopically, so the sacrifice was manageable.) Or the
Carnduff teacher at one of Eaglesmith's past shows, who left school
at three in the afternoon and arrived a couple of minutes before
showtime at eight. As soon as the show was over, he turned around
and drove five hours back home, because he had to teach the next day.
They all have their reasons. Each Eaglesmith show is a unique blend
of Canadian roots music, road stories and home-brewed political
philosophy.
The man is part songwriter, part musician, part raconteur and part
comedian. Depending on his mood, he will vary the proportions of
those ingredients.
What doesn't change is his willingness to tell you exactly what he
thinks. At every show, Eaglesmith offers up his views on a wide variety
of topics, including the state of the music world (rap music will make
you sterile), national politics and our "Canadian president"), child
rearing, gun registration and popular culture, among other things.
His storytelling tends to compete with his singing for air time,
but he's so damn funny, no one in the audience seems to care.
However, there's no doubt the real attraction is the songs.
Eaglesmith is easily one of Canada's best songwriters, but the country
has yet to fully wake up to it.
Other singers have, though. Eaglesmith has been covered by plenty of
artists who know a good thing when they see it, such as The Cowboy
Junkies, Blackie and the Rodeo Kings and Mary Gauthier, among others.
If Bruce Springsteen had been born in the country instead of urban
New Jersey, he might have sounded a bit like this.
Eaglesmith can be hopelessly sentimental, such as when he sings about
an old cowboy dying of cancer brought on by a lifetime of chewing
tobacco, or he can be a real hard-ass (and I mean that in a good way),
such as when he sings that "it's time to get a gun."
He writes about snowplows and Indian motorcycles, steel guitars and
broken hearts. You can get a feel for his work from song titles like
Mighty Big Car, 49 Tons and especially, I Ain't Ever Givin' In.
Eaglesmith shuns the big record companies and plays no part whatever in
the commercial music industry. His shows are often sparsely advertised,
if at all, but it doesn't seem to hurt him any.
His popularity is driven by word of mouth and the Internet, where he
sells his records and keeps his fans informed of his punishing tour
schedule. The people who care are plugged in, so much so that they
are bugging local promoter Rob Hodgins for tickets even before they
go on sale.
Eaglesmith is part of the growing indie music scene, one of hundreds
of artists that are making it outside the mainstream. They do it by
putting out their own records, and running their own tours, playing
in small halls and relying on word of mouth to build a following.
Eaglesmith has added a couple of wrinkles of his own, such as a musical
train ride through the Rockies, and a couple of his own "Fredfests"
where he hosts a number of other independent artists.
Northwinds Entertainment's Hodgins says there are many artists like
Eaglesmith who are making a go of it off the commercial grid.
"These guys can be viable selling 5,000 to 10,000 units, where they
could never be viable in the commercial industry unless they sold
100,000 units. There are just so many more mouths to feed there."
Even after 25 years in the business, Eaglesmith says he's perfectly
happy if this is as good as it gets.
The other night at the Concordia club, he talked about driving by
Credit Union Centre on his way into town, where he noticed all the
assorted tour buses and semi-trailers it takes to tour a commercial
country act like Brooks and Dunn.
He pays attention to things like that, he deadpans, because "sometimes
I see those guys on their way down."