Paul ThornThe cliché says that good writers mostly write what they know, so it's little wonder that Paul Thorn has crafted an under-the-radar career as a respected songwriter and performer.

The title of his 2010 album is Pimps & Preachers, and he speaks of both from experience: His father was a minister, and his uncle was a pimp. "When I was a kid, them was the two guys that I hung around a lot," Thorn said in a phone interview this week. "I got to witness what went on on both sides of the tracks of life - the dark and the light side of life."

That uncle also taught the future songwriter to box and served as his trainer, and in 1988 Thorn fought (and lost to) Roberto Durán, considered one of the sport's greats. Thorn also used to skydive.

In the mid-1990s, Thorn was plucked from a day job in a furniture factory and a regular gig singing in a pizza joint, signed to a major-label contract. And the first concert he ever attended was a Sting show - at which he was the opening act.

Buffalo CloverMost bands dubbed "Americana" focus on a thin slice of roots music, but the Nashville-based outfit Buffalo Clover lays claim to a wide swath, all with a smart pop sensibility.

The band's official biography says its styles range from "underdog gypsy punk to Motown boxcar blues, [and] vaudevillian acid rock to train-wreck folk," and those labels are accurate both in terms of genre and vivid, mature execution. On any given night, Buffalo Clover might cover James Brown, Etta James, or Neil Young, and that also offers some sense of what appears to be a nearly boundless comfort zone.

The band - which performed at last year's River Roots Live festival - will play the Redstone Room on February 26 and features two members from the Quad Cities area: singer/songwriter Margo Price (an Aledo, Illinois, native) and guitarist/banjoist Matt Gardner (who went to high school in Bettendorf).

That local connection is one reason to check out the emerging band, but Buffalo Clover has the goods, too. Pick Your Poison, the band's 2010 release, demonstrates its expansive grasp in the span of three songs.

Images by Quad Cities event photographer Chris Jones from February 14's Slash set at the i wireless Center. (Ozzy Osbourne headlined.) Click on any photo for a larger version.

For more of Jones' work, visit MusicRowPhotos.com.

Images by Quad Cities event photographer Chris Jones from February 1's Avenged Sevenfold concert at the i wireless Center, with opener Stone Sour. Click on any photo for a larger version.

For more of Jones' work, visit MusicRowPhotos.com.

Avenged Sevenfold:

Fitz & the Tantrums. Photo by Alicia Rose.

There are breakup songs and breakup albums, and then there's Fitz & the Tantrums - a breakup band.

Singer/songwriter Michael Fitzpatrick will be bringing his soul six-piece to the Redstone Room on February 7, and the group's music is as infectious as its origin story is serendipitous. Esquire last year named Fitz & the Tantrums one of its "10 SXSW Bands to Add to Your iPod Now," and that's just one of the accolades the band has acquired in its two-year existence.

Ernie HendricksonOn his 2007 solo debut, Down the Road, Ernie Hendrickson tried to make everything perfect.

"Literally, by the time I was finished with that record, I was familiar with every single note on every single song," the Chicago-based Hendrickson said in a phone interview this week.

But the unintended consequence of sweating over every element of the album was that it became something he could never replicate in front of an audience. "If you listen to that record closely ... you can really sort of hear how it would be impossible for people to play what goes on those songs in a live setting," he said.

And not being able to reproduce a song in a concert is a refusal to acknowledge a critical aspect of a musician's life. (For an emerging roots singer/songwriter such as Hendrickson, it's actually a refusal to acknowledge the main source of his livelihood: shows.) "A song is a song," he said, "and it still has to be performed."

Hendrickson will play a show January 21 at the Redstone Room, where his shift in thinking should be clear. He used to bring a looper to his solo shows - trying to build as full a sound as possible, but often at the expense of a connection with the audience. "You're up there and you're getting a lot of blank stares if you don't engage an audience," he said.

Whitey Morgan & the 78's. Photo by Doug Coombe.If you listen to the self-titled second album by Whitey Morgan & the 78's and think the band makes outlaw country sound easy, Morgan probably wouldn't object.

When he described finding his sound, Morgan - the stage name of Eric Allen - said, "It was difficult until I realized that ... limitations can be a beautiful thing."

He said his band - which will perform at RIBCO on January 21 - initially tried to sound like country from the middle part of the 20th Century, but they didn't have the chops to pull it off. It was only when they embraced the relative simplicity of the outlaw-country movement - personified by artists such as Kris Kristofferson, Willie Nelson, and Waylon Jennings - that things started to click.

I jokingly suggested that the problem was that he was too ambitious, and Morgan didn't take offense and didn't think I was kidding; he agreed.

Retribution Gospel Choir. Photo by Chelsea Morgan.When I interviewed Alan Sparhawk in 2007, the singer/songwriter/guitarist touched on the idea of a "golden moment ... when you're sort of just struggling with some instrument and you sort of have just figured it out, and you are just figuring out the first possible ideas and melodies on it; it's really exciting."

He was talking specifically about Low's Drums & Guns, in which the Minnesota trio (featuring Sparhawk, his wife Mimi Parker on drums, and bassist Matt Livingston - who has since left the band) experimented with instruments they weren't comfortable playing.

In an interview last week promoting Retribution Gospel Choir's December 31 performance at RIBCO (supporting the Meat Puppets), that concept re-emerged in slightly different form. He cast it as freedom - but it's critical to understand that it isn't a natural state of being but the result of work and getting rid of ego. "Those are everything," he said. "'There was a moment where I was not in the way.'"

For the fifth consecutive year, I present my year-end album - a collection of personal favorite tracks from 2010.

The rules are simple: Each artist is limited to one song, and performers included in the previous four editions of this project are disqualified. (Notable exclusions because of this rule are Shannon Wright, Grinderman, and the Shondes.)

This year's album is longer than past efforts, but it'll still fit on a CD. (Previous editions of this project: 2006, 2007, 2008, and 2009.)

As much as there can be a theme with a disparate collection, my 2010 album begins with and returns to loss. But I don't think it's a downer. Instead, I hope it's a demonstration of music as therapy or a salve, even when (or especially when) it comes from pain - a medicine for melancholy.

Mini Mansions. Photo by Dustin Rabin.

If you want a sense of what Mini Mansions sounds like, interviews and reviews often reference the Beatles' experimental side and the late singer/songwriter Elliott Smith. But you're advised not to raise the comparisons with Michael Shuman, the Queens of the Stone Age bassist who formed Mini Mansions in early 2009.

Shuman has previously been up-front about the influences of and his love for the Beatles and Smith, but when I asked him about Mini Mansions' new self-titled album compared to the Beatles, he responded curtly: "I don't think it sounds anything like them." A lot of writers have repeated the comparison, he said, but "I just think it was the wrong bandwagon."

A trio that primarily employs keyboards, bass, drums, and voices, Mini Mansions - performing at RIBCO on December 11 - plays pop music that immediately grabs you but is also streaked with oddity and darkness. The Beatles comparison is frankly inevitable because of the vocal style and harmonies, and the spirit of Smith is undeniable as well. (For the record, outside of a closing scream and vocal flourish in "Monk," there's barely a hint of Queens of the Stone Age.)

Pages