By Team Backbeat
By Amber Taufen
By Jon Solomon
By Tom Murphy
By Jesse Livingston
By Alejandra Loera
By Stephanie March
By Tom Murphy
These days, John Common is pretty happy. During the past year or so, his band, Rainville, has become widely regarded as one of the more thrilling additions to the Denver scene. Along the way, he's kept refining his approach to a wholly American songwriting style that echoes the best aspects of heartland rock. Still, Common has a problem: Rainville's collective appearance -- more frat-boy fashion than rock and roll -- has created an image crisis of sorts.
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"They remind me of the Archies," says Common's new girlfriend, Terri Hannifan, as he laughs out loud. "But I really mean that in a good way. It's because they look kind of clean-cut like the Archies. But their music isn't clean-cut, and their songs are just so appealing." However, when Common recovers from the giggles, he offers a serious defense of his band's dress code. "Looks can be deceiving, and you don't have to look a certain way," he says. "You just go play. Frankly, I look at some of the bands around here and think, 'I wish you would have spent as much time on your fucking songs as you did on your outfits.'"
Common is equally testy when defending his band's approach, something "progressives" might view as a stern resistance to change or an inability to invent. But Common sees virtue in the band's steadfast embrace of well-worn influences.
"I'm working on a new song," he says, "called 'Sad But True.' And what the song is about is, it's a sad fact that there ain't much new under the sun. But the good thing is that it's true. The truth is that I'm probably not going to come up with anything real innovative. So you're not going to sit there and say, 'I've never heard anything like this in my life before.' But, if I'm honest, then I'm going to come up with my own version of cornerstone rock. You're probably going to say, 'Boy, I hear strains of Tom Petty, and I hear a Bruce Springsteen ending and a Neil Young solo and a Tom Waits lyric.' But those guys never play together, and they're not in the same band. But they're all in our band."
Indeed, all of those elements are found on Rainville's debut, Collecting Empties. Released last fall, the recording (which includes the playing of drummer Steve Richards, bassist Matt Sumner and keyboardist Gary Brudos) is one of the best local recordings of the past five years, a debut of impressive proportions. It achieves the difficult task of weaving the aforementioned influences into a cohesive whole that should appeal to fans of breadbasket rock and the weary twang and roll created by the best of the alternative No Depression acts.
Collecting Empties covers several rootsy styles without sounding forced, overarching or self-indulgent. And during those rare moments when the band misses its mark, the players make up for it with biting lyrics and an adult sense of songsmithing and arrangement. "Lonely Everywhere" is a wonderful loser's anthem ("I'm just drunk enough to be driving/I'm just stoned enough to be sinking") with Brudos's Waits-y piano fills and Common's inside-out strumming. "Broken Flower" is a gooey tune of the Whiskeytown/Wallflowers sort; "Nothing in My Hat" is a delicious, raggedy-man lurch with dynamics that rise from hushed choruses to stumbling guitar breaks.
Other bright spots on the disc include the Crazy Horse creep of "Convenience Store Killer," the pedal-steeled slo-core of "Windows," and "Another Star," a radio-friendly anthem with an infectious, pass-me-another-beer chorus. "Trains" features the tasteful playing of Sumner and Richards (one of the better rhythm sections in town) against Common's earnest pleas for an anywhere-but-here address; the tune ends with, yes, a perfect Born to Run-era Springsteen finale. Closing out the CD is the absinthe jazz of "Evil Moon"; decorated by Common's charming, locally specific lyrical references ("Those bastards at the Satire, they don't take my checks"), it stars a paranoid protagonist who plays guitar in the tub at night while attempting to drink a stalking moon out of sight. It's dark, delicious stuff -- a long, long way from Archie, Jughead or anything ever heard in Riverdale.
"That album was a fairly dark little number," Common says. "Collecting Empties came from an unpleasant series of years." He says the bulk of the songs were penned during a transitional period when he left his hometown of Pensacola, Florida, to travel the nation, playing music on street corners on the way. "It was awful; I do not recommend it," Common says of his stints in the New York City subways and other places. After a few months in New York, Common busked in Vermont before relocating to Kansas, where he worked a wheat harvest before arriving in Denver in 1996. In 1998 he traded the role of singer-songwriter for bandleader after recruiting Richards and Sumner.
Last year, just before Rainville's CD release party for Empties, keyboard player Gary Brudos left the band, citing differences between where he wanted to go musically and what the band was doing. His departure put the group in a serious quandary: How do you replace a player whose work is an integral part your sound? "We were concerned, of course, and wondered how we were going to do this," Common recalls. "But we showed up at the next gig as a three-piece and went for it, and it was fine."
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