My friend Taylor knows a lot about music, GOOD music, to be more specific. He’s been working in music for some time now. He’s also quite eloquent with his words and is a lovely writer. I’m so pleased to introduce him to all of you, and hope that this is the first of many more posts. Thanks Taylor!

So, It’s February 11th, earlier this year and New York is in a major panic. The entire East Coast in the middle of what the news is referring to as “Snowstorm 2010″, which is coinciding with possibly the most important (to some…) event in the world of design and clothes, New York Fashion Week. 3 feet of snow is plastered on the ground and super models are sliding every which way, blowing out their skin tight jeans left and right. Cab drivers have for once, taken the day off and given their horns a much deserved break, not daring to brave the ferocious white powder falling from the heavens above. I’m in the middle of a 2 week extreme underplay residency tour with Delta Spirit, doing whatever it is I do, and tonights show happens to fall smack dab in the middle of Manhattan. The venue, in name, is Piano’s. An extremely small, as well as extremely elite bar / venue occupying an extremely prime piece of real estate on possibly the most popular music destination in New York, Ludlow Street. Known as a “garden” if you will, for many of the East Coast’s up and coming, and already here and staying artists, Piano’s is great for fans of any and all genres of music.

Now that I’ll probably get murdered for blowing the roof of what many “hip” New Yorkers consider to be “their” venue, I’ll get on with the true point of this story. After a packed (and somehow sweaty) evening of music with Delta, the tour manager was asked if ourselves and the band would mind if another band could make the stage their home once we vacated. He obliged, unaware that this band was fronted by the very man responsible for bringing us to this very place for our 2 night stay. I, being tired from the nights previous events, had found myself a nice seat perched in the main bar area, separate from the stage room, to partake in a nice, internally warming drink. After about 30 or so minutes of chatting with some close friends, exchanging how myself being from San Diego, was holding up against such unholy weather, I glance towards the door noticing something amazing, a maybe 100 pound girl lugging in a maybe 100 pound stand up bass. Behind her, forming a line of four, are 3 men, each carrying in their desired instrument for the night. In total, a banjo, a stand up bass, kick drum, snare drum, accordion, mandolin and multiple acoustic guitars had all made their way on the stage by the time they seemed content with their ensemble. Something seemed different about this group of 20 somethings, more real, more believable, more tangible than anything I can explain. Perhaps it was the fact that they all seemed to have an aura about them, like this wasn’t where they belong but they were gonna give it hell and make the best of their constraints. I’m not speaking of their present location, so much as I am about the time in which their lives are playing out. If the age of their instruments was any indication of the time in which they wish they belonged to, their births were about 60 years late. With one microphone draping the center of the stage, they all took their place under the dim lights on the lifted floor. What happened next was something I will probably always have a hard time explaining in an appropriate gathering of words…The name of this motley looking group is Spirit Family Reunion.

Hailing from Brooklyn, NY, with roots firmly planted somewhere further south, they have comfortably lodged themselves in a niche lying somewhere between the protest stylings of Bob Dylan and Woody Guthrie, and the untamed bluegrass of Gillian Welch and David Rawlings. Tearing thru songs off their self released as well as self sold (That’s right you Itunes account holders, no luck there) EP/songbook, they had every soul in the small room stomping, clapping and singing along to their energetic brand of Americana. With the swagger of a man twice his age, the lead vocalist’s ability to control a room is an extremely rare and very much welcomed attribute to this generally tamed genre. With lyrics containing subject matter including God, the Devil, hard living and of love lost, they never stray too far from the road laid out years ago on that end, but maintain a constant ability to keep everything fresh and modern with the energy in which they put it on display. Complete with song titles ranging from ‘When My Name Is Spoken’ and ‘Take Me Back Sweet Anna Lee’ (Undoubtedly a reference to the mythical woman found in much of ‘The Band’s catalogue), their EP has not left a consistent rotation on my Ipod since that night. Willing to pick up a show anywhere, and at anytime, the band is constantly on the run playing to anyone that will lend them an ear and possibly a floor to crash on. This fortunately has not been my only encounter with these guys (and gal), I was lucky enough to see them at The Soundpony, next door to Cain’s Ballroom, just a couple weeks ago, where they put on an equally as amazing and endearing show. I urge you to reach out and support this band, and any other like them, who are doing things the way they used to be, and I don’t mean by wearing their parent’s 1970′s tank tops, creating an alter ego and inviting way too many friends to join their band, you know I’m talking about. Contact them at spiritfamilyreunionusa@gmail.com to purchase one of their albums, or just to say “Hey, you rule”.

Spirit Family Reunion- Greenback Dollar Bills

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Spirit Family Reunion- When My Name Is Spoken

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Spirit Family Reunion- On That Day

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