Malcolm Holcombe - Press/Reviews

The Herald 02.05.10 Americana Idol 01.29.10 Jumpin Hot Club 01.26.10 Backroads 01.21.10 Flyin Shoes 11.29.09 Blurt Magazine 12.11.09 AllGood Cafe 12.03.09 Flyin Shoes Review 11.29.09 Arkansas Times 12.01.09 Spartanburg Herold Journal 11.26.09 Twang Nation 11.10.09 Knoxville News Sentinel 11.05.09 Americana UK 10.10.09 The Daily Times 11.05.09 Blurt 10.29.09 Maverick November 2009 Country Standard Time October 2009 Blogcritics Music 10.16.09 Pasadena Weekly 10.08.09 Americana UK October 2009 Net Rhythms October 2009 Asheville Citizen Times 10.02.09 The Nashville Scene 10.01.09 Bristol News 10.01.09 Mountain Xpress 09.30.09 Nine Bullets 09.30.09 stereosubversion 09.29.09 Twangville 08.27.09 Hero Hill 08.14.09 Metromix 07.23.09 Conroe Courier June 2009 Mountain Xpress April 2009 Xroads France February 2009 Uncut Magazine January 2009 Otago Daily Times 01.01.09 Maverick Press January 2009 Maverick Review January 2009	Tip Berlin 12.19.08 The Tennessean 12.08.08 NetRhythms 12.06.08 The Independent 12.05.08 Shakin Weld 12.03.08 Elsewhere Ltd 11.29.08 Progressive Broadcasting Service 11.25.08 BBC Country 11.14.08 Spartanburg Herald Journal 08.14.08 Mobile Press Register 07.31.08 The Free Times 07.09.08 Connect Savannah 07.09.08 Courier Mail 06.20.08 Go Triad 06.19.08 Lonesome Highway March 2008 Tuscaloosa News 03.27.08 Austin Chronicle 03.24.08 Americanaroots 03.04.08 Austin Chronicle 03.07.08 Popmatters 03.06.08 New York Daily News 03.04.08 Exile in Dunganville - GastonAlive - February 2008 Country Standard Time 02.29.08 American Songwriter March/April 2008 The Daily Times 02.29.08 Wall Street Journal 02.14.08 Go Tri Cities 02.08.08 Pasadena Weekly 02.07.08 In Tune 02.07.08 Studio City Sun February 2008 Asheville Citizen-Times 02.01.08 About.com January 2008 Harp Magazine Jan/Feb 2008 An Honest Tune 01.26.08 Houston Press 01.24.08 Fort Worth Weekly 01.23.08 Dallas Observer 01.24.08 Puremusic January 2008 Stereo Subversion January 2008 Billboard Magazine January 2008 Winston-Salem Journal 12.13.07 Creative Loafing 12.05.07 High County Press 11.29.07 Connect Savannah 11.27.07 French Press More French Press More German Press Independent Weekly 10.24.07 German Press Uncut November 2007 Nashville Scene 10.18.07 Heaven Magazine Sept/Oct 2007 #58 October 2007 Country Music People October 2007 Crossroads October 2007 Oor Magazine October 2007 Acoustic October 2007 Irish Times October 2007 Classic Rock Society September2007 Leo 04.16.07 Savannah Now 04.12.07 Clayton News-Star 03.31.07 Blue Ridge Outdoors March 2007 Sing Out Spring 2007 Sing Out - Winter 2007	High Country Press 11.09.06 The Intelligencer PDF Oct. 2006 Press & Sun Bulletin PDF 10.15.06 The Morning Call 10.14.06 Savannah Connect PDF Sept. 2006 KnoxNews 09.01.06 PDF1& PDF 2 Daily Times 09.01.06 All the Rage 07.21.06 Nashville Scene 07.20.06 Buddy Magazine July 2006 Bristol Herald Courier 07.06.06 Kingsport Times News 07.06.06 PDF1& PDF 2 Pure Music #67 July 2006 American Songwriter 07/2006 PDF Creative Loafing 06.23.06 Americana Roots 06.02.06 Americana UK 05.15.06 News and Observer 05.05.06 Indy Weekly 5.03.06 Press & Sun Bulletin 04.07.06 The Hendersonville News 3.17.06 Metro Pulse 03.02.06 Columbus Ledger-Enquirer 02.06.06 Wall Street Journal 01.28.06 NY Daily News - Farber 01.08.06 PDF South Florida Sun-Sentinal 12.04.05 The Bulletin 12.02.05 Performing Songwriter Dec.05 PDF The Loafer 11.22.05 PDF pt. 1 PDF pt. 2 Nashville Scene 11.10.05 American Songwriter Sept/Oct 2005 PDF Vintage Guitar Magazine Sept. 2005 Boston's Weekly Dig 08.25.05 Louisville Eccentric Observer 08.24.05 New Haven's Advocate 08.18.05 Freight Train Boogie July 2005 KnoxNews 07.17.05 Savannah Morning News 07.15.05 Chattanooga Pulse 07.06.05 Connect Savannah 06.15.05 PDF Tulsa World PDF06/17/05 Americana UK 06/2005 Pure Music 06/08/05 The Mountain Times 06/02/05 PDF The Daily Times 04/29/05 No Depression #57 04/18/05 Dominion Post 03/17/05 PDF The Free Lance-Star 03/17/05 Pittsburgh Tribune-Review 03/17/05 PDF Nashville Scene 03/10/05 Jacksonville FolioWeekly 02/17/05 Dallas Morning News 01/14/05 PDF1 PDF2 Smoky Mountain News 12/29/04 The Daily Times 11/05/04 Knoxville News-Sentinel Co 11/05/04 The Dominion Post 10/14/04 Metro Pulse 10/04/04 PDF The Chattanoogan10/04/04 Mountain Express PDF Savannah, GA PDF Jammin JavaPDF Sarasota - The Herald Tribune The Bradenton Herald Puremusic Interview Puremusic Review Johnson City Press Winston-Salem Journal No Depression #45 Rockzillaworld Flyin Shoes The Spectator Music Dish E-Journal 09-00 Music Dish E-Journal 04-00 No Depression #25 RollingStone LA Variety Acoustic Guitar World Flagpole Magazine Online
The Herald - 2.05.10
The Herald Friday, February 05, 2010 Intimate and inspirational at the B Bar AMERICANA Night, which happens every six weeks or so at the B Bar in the Barbican Theatre, has to be one of the Plymouth music scene's best-kept secrets. Here, courtesy of Americana promoter John Jones, we get to see some of the real deal artists, perhaps not well-known names, but very much on a par. John says he was fed up with having to travel the length and breadth of the country to witness these musicians, so he has started bringing them here to his home town. And what an absolute joy is in store at future Americana nights, if last Friday's is anything to go by. Malcolm Holcome not only appeared like a bedraggled cross between Neil Young and Tom Waites, he sounds like them, with a touch of JJ Cale, thrown in for good measure. Hailing all the way from North Carolina, via many years in Nashville, he looked like he had walked every step of the way, wearing his life experiences in the lines of his face. Songs were delivered in an almost whispered, nicotine-stained gravelly voice, a voice that sits perfectly juxtaposed against his masterful and magical guitar picking. Bit of blues, bit of country, folk and ragtime, all are there in the melting pot of Malcolm's wonderfully melodic compositions many of which would sit happily on a hit album by the likes of Young or Cale. Particular favourites at the B Bar were the title track of the new album For The Mission Baby, plus the sublime understated Doncha Miss That Water, with its driving beat, melancholy yet uplifting vibe and melody to die for. Seldom have I ever witnessed a performance of such intensity – Malcolm would rock, eyes closed, back and forth at times, shake his head violently, or else simply stare into the crowd with a rather scary faraway look. Completely under his spell, the B Bar crowd hung on his every note in reverential silence and strained to hear each whispered, random anecdote, bursting into rapturous applause at the end of each song. We came away feeling privileged to have witnessed such an inspirational performance in such an intimate venue. Hopefully next time Malcolm returns to Plymouth he'll bring his band with him. Back to Top
Americana Idol - 1.29.10
Americana Idol OH CAROLINA: Acoustic country blues star Malcolm Holcombe is set to appear at the Barbican B-Bar tonight as part of its Americana showcase The Plymouth Herald Friday, January 29, 2010 THE Americana showcase season continues at the B-Bar, in the Barbican Theatre, Castle Street tonight, with a set from a US singer/songwriter, who seems to incorporate each mile travelled, each experience gleaned and each cigarette smoked into his songs. Haunted acoustic country blues, folk and gospel fervour all converge in the rugged output of Malcolm Holcombe, whose visage, as one reviewer put it, "appears carved out of granite and whose voice is sculpted from tree bark and disregarded rail road lines". North Carolina-born and bred, he is, in short, the real deal. Holcombe devotee David Fricke of Rolling Stone Magazine once opined that: "He plays country-blues guitar with the orchestral punch of Richard Thompson, sings with the laconic poise of John Prine" and "has a gift for pith". Unsurprisingly, his stage performances are intense and unpredictable, reflecting a scarred soul, he's hell bent on healing. "The way I see it," he says in his deep, laid back Tom Waits-esque drawl, "is that we're all a work in progress. I believe all people have good inside but some get dirty and mashed. "I thank the Lord for the chance to go down a better pathway." Ask him about the content of this songs and he's rather vague, but confesses: "Politics is hard to get away from. There's a lot of poor people, a lot of suffering and a load of injustice. "I try to speak my mind from what I've experienced personally and what I've heard from family and friends and on my travels." His initial inspiration came from listening to his pocket transistor as a kid. "Late night I'd mess around with the dial, and pick up some strong signal playing Beatles or rock'n'roll, something you could wiggle your toes to. "I watched the 'pickers' on TV, anything that had music on it, had a little help from my uncle who was a Baptist preacher and practised when I wasn't out playing ball, anything to keep my hands busy – and show off a little. "Basically I was a butcher, hacking, flailing, hissing, howlin' and messing around. "My mom would tell me to stop singing through my nose!" Having evolved his own style he spent a while on the road with a band called Redwing, before eventually arriving in Nashville, the home of country, to be feted by the close knit music community. "They were good times, from what I can remember," he muses, and harbours no resentment about the deal with Geffen for his debut album falling through in the mid-Nineties. "Lots of musicians were dropped from the label around that time – it was all about big old back room deals, big business with men in zoot suits. I was just glad I wasn't one of 'em." He went on to release two independent albums and has now in total notched up eight solo offerings – the latest of which, For the Mission Baby, was released in the UK in October, to critical acclaim across the board. It's in support of the new album that he is currently part way through an extensive European tour, with just a handful of dates in the UK. So has he been to the West Country before? "Probably not, in my recollection, which is nil!" And being totally self-effacing, he says he's constantly surprised at the response he gets from playing live this side of the Atlantic. "The European tour from what I can tell is miraculous. People are very kind and forgiving and I really count my blessings in this day and age. "I'm just amazed that anyone shows up – including me!" Reserve your tickets by calling the B-Bar on 01752 242021. Back to Top
Jumpin Hot Club - Newcastle - 1.26.10
Malcolm Holcombe, Jumpin’ Hot Club@Live Theatre, Newcastle Tuesday 26th January 2010 IT was great to see North Carolina singer-songwriter Malcolm Holcombe not only back in the area but also with a new album, For The Mission Baby, and a great amount of new material to share. A unique and genuine performer, Holcombe combines folk and blues with a smattering of country music. On first impression he would have you believe his act wasn’t structured, but since he pounds and picks his acoustic guitar like his life depended upon it, you realise it is. He performed a never to be forgotten gig with lyrics to pierce the heart and a raspy, lived-in singing voice. With the likes of For The Mission Baby, Doncha Miss That Water and a Woody Guthrie-hinted Whenever I Pray, plus an interesting anecdote or two, his music bounced merrily along the rural back roads of small-town America. The entertaining Holcombe had some people take side bets on when was he going to slip off his chair as he rocked restlessly back and forth. But he didn’t. For an encore he delved into his back catalogue of treasures for the smartly picked Marvelene’s Kitchen to leave us on a high, and it was legal. The Minnikins, a brother and sister act comprising of Gabe and Ruth Minnikin, from Nova Scotia, Canada, opened the gig with an honest folk-based set in which Gabe’s standout true-life story Halifax Blues was a song worthy of special mention. -Maurice Hope Back to Top
Backroads - 1.21.10
Backroads UK Review: Malcolm Holcombe and Tom Russell, Celtic Connections, Glasgow January 21, 2010 Malcolm Holcombe wandered onto the stage like he’d just stepped off the streets, in a baggy, lived-in, brown leather jacket, a woolly hat and a scarf (he discarded only the hat before picking up his guitar), took a sip from a steaming cup of coffee and was making music before he’d even turned back towards the audience. “I’ve been doing push-ups every morning,” he told the laughing crowd. “I sometimes do two or three in a row.” On the surface, Holcombe is the epitome of the rough-and-ready, “real” country singer, with his gravelly voice, his untroubled performance and his down-home tales of rural North Carolina life as he rocked his chair back and forth in just the way forbidden by schoolteachers everywhere. But look a bit closer and there’s even more going on here. Holcombe might have been playing bent double, standing up but leaning over to sing into the microphone set up for use with the chair, but every note he played was spot-on. And the lyrics of his songs are far from the simple ballads of his Appalachian heritage. There’s also something unique and very moving about the way Holcombe talks incessantly about his wife, the unseen presence that seems to shape everything he does and everything he sings about. He calls her the light of his life in a way that would embarrass many men but touches every woman in the room. The insouciant, rumpled aura that Malcolm Holcombe gives off may well be the way he really is, but it’s not what he is. And everyone knows that, and it’s that contrast that makes his performances spellbinding. The double bill with Tom Russell – Celtic Connections’ frantically full programme pairs all sorts of artists who might otherwise never meet – could also have been a study in contrasts, but in the end it was far more similar than it was different. Russell’s is a studied performance, honed over more than three decades on stage, yet kept fresh by a deep measure of ad-libbed monologues and strong audience participation, not to mention a seemingly endless stream of new, strong, thought-provoking songs from a prolific songwriter, painter and observer of life. Russell is touring his new album, Blood and Candle Smoke, of which he is clearly immensely proud. He describes the music as “desert noir”, a tour through the underbelly of the U.S..-Mexico border, with regular side-trips to the darkest parts of Africa, Canada and the other haunts of this frighteningly well-travelled and well-read artist. Though many mourned when Russell and his sideman of 20 years Andrew Hardin went their own ways a few years ago, the application of new guitarists has added a certain freshness to Russell’s live performance. Thad Beckman wowed the audience with his renditions of Mississippi John Hurt, Lightnin’ Hopkins and Doc Watson as Russell brought out his much-performed but always different and entertaining monologue of life in the shadow of Dave Van Ronk. Beckman’s laid-back style (was he chewing gum?) is a good fit with Russell, who will always be the dominant personality on any stage. The format at Celtic Connections offers audiences a “two for the price of one” opportunity, and on this occasion that is very much what they got. Which only leaves the slight disappointment that both artists – especially Holcombe – could have done with more time. Holcombe and Russell each have one more gig at Celtic Connections, Russell tonight as part of Texas Songwriters in the Round and Holcombe tomorrow night in company with Johnny Dickinson. Both are also on wider UK tours. Check the Gig Guide for details. Back to Top
Flyin Shoes - 11.29.09
Flyin Shoes review November 29, 2009 - by John Davy Malcolm Holcombe: For The Mission Baby Much praised by Bob Harris, Malcolm Holcombe is a man you can't, or shouldn't, ignore. Fortunately for us in Scotland there are two appearances at Celtic Connections and, glory be, an intimate little gig at the Strathpeffer Coffeee Shop to look forward to in January. In truth, I've been struggling to get to grips with this album. It is not smooth and easy, all laid out on a plate for us to lap up. Malcolm's vocals alone are enough to make it rough at the edges; gruff and raw, he sounds like he sings for himself first and foremost, dragging out of himself as best he can the thoughts and emotions running through his mind. Sometimes, mid-song, he seems to like what he hears and makes an appreciative noise as if standing outside his own performance. Bigtime Blues, which opens the album, is as gruff and uncompromising a country blues number as you've probably ever heard and I feared I would find the whole album too much like hard work if there was more of the same. But then, Hannah's Trading Post eased me into more accessible territory; the mix of gruff attack and lyrical playing gives plenty to chew on and the more you listen, the more you realise this man's a pretty extraordinary guitar player, capable of making his instrument produce more than one mood at a time. His producer is Ray Kennedy, famed in particular for working with Steve Earle, and he is presumably responsible for bringing in players that add a sweetness to Malcolm's sound - in particular Jared Tyler on dobro and Tim O'Brien on all things stringed. At times this has a slightly schizophrenic effect - Malcolm's growling away like he's sitting in the gutter with a bottle in his hand, not giving a damn whilst the band is purring smoothly along sounding like Union Station. At other times the marriage is perfect: Tim O'Brien's fiddle playing on Straight and Tall is poignant and well-matched to Malcolm's vocal. Lyrically, Malcolm's on his own planet and tells it just as he sees it - which is a very individual perspective. His writing reminds me of an artist I know whose version of the world connects with ordinary mortals just enough that we're prepared to make the effort to try and connect with all the less obvious stuff. There are some lines that come through and strike me as extraordinarily poetic - "they made love one night, one breath to be" - is one particular line that sticks with me, but the whole of Leonard's Pigpen has passed me by several times without me getting any the wiser as to what it's about. If you only ever want to be comforted by music then I don't think Malcolm's your man - though Another One Gone, for one, is plenty sweet enough; if, on the other hand, you're prepared to engage with a profoundly individual view of the world, then make a bee-line for this man's gigs in January. Back to Top
Blurt Magazine - 12.11.09
Blurt Magazine CD review by Steven Rosen 12/11/2009 Malcolm Holcombe For the Mission Baby (Echo Mountain) www.echomountainrecords.com www.malcolmholcombe.com On For the Mission Baby, his sixth album, contemporary mountain music/blues player Malcolm Holcombe has solidified the breakthrough he made on his fifth, 2008's Gamblin' House, which showed he could apply that scrappy, scraping growl of a voice and impassionedly tough, deceptively virtuoso acoustic-guitar work to songs that had enough dynamics and structure to stand out from one another. He wasn't just doing authentic-sounding but sometimes-shapeless variations of blues riffs, in other words. Producer Ray Kennedy is back in charge of this one, like its predecessor, and Holcombe's voice - which unadorned sometimes can come at you like wind-driven leather pellets aimed at your face - is leavened by the fine session work of Tim O'Brien (banjo, mandola), Jared Tyler (dobro), David Roe (upright bass) and some on-the-mark harmony vocals. If Holcombe's songs themselves aren't a great leap forward from Gamblin' House, especially the searing intimacy of its "Blue Flame," at their best ("Hannah's Trading Post," "A Bigger Plan") they still evoke the visions and hard-earned values of life in North Carolina's Blue Ridge Mountains, Holcombe's home. Holcombe can have fun, conjuring the energy and legacy of loose-spirited jug-band music or country swing. But he can also capture the heartbreak of despair ("Another One Gone") in a way that is sorrowful but never maudlin or sentimental. He's not a youngster by any means - he's middle-aged and has had a lot of career false starts and personal-life struggles. But good things do happen to those who maintain their musical integrity... and keep trying to get better. And it's happening to Holcombe, finally. Standout Tracks: "Another One Gone," "A Bigger Plan" Back to Top
AllGood Cafe - 12.03.09
Gig Alert: Malcolm Holcombe and Andrew Hardin at AllGood Café Dallas Observer By Darryl Smyers in Gig Alert Dec. 3, 2009 Malcolm Holcombe Last year, I had the opportunity to talk with singer/songwriter/guitarist Malcolm Holcombe--and his rags to rags story was one of the most interesting things I've heard in some time. And, tonight, Holcombe brings his beautifully ragged brand of folk to the intimate confines of AllGood Café. Hailing from North Carolina, he gives new meaning to the words honesty and intensity. Besides being a renowned guitarist, Holcombe's songs feature narratives that never sugar-coat his struggles with substance abuse and depression. Holcombe's 2008 release, Gamblin' House, was an eerie collection of Appalachian folk that brought the singer his best reviews to date and has allowed him to tour more consistently. And Holcombe's just-released new effort, For The Mission Baby, just might be his best yet. Catching this guy in the intimacy of AllGood Café is icing on the proverbial cake. Even more frosting comes in the folk of the opening act, Andrew Hardin. Another guitarist of some note, Hardin adds a flamenco flair to his pretty ballads and folksy takes on the blues. It's been a while since Hardin has released a record, but those curious should seek out 2005's Blue Acoustic. You're not likely to find a better pairing of singer/songwriters than Holcombe and Hardin--on any night of the week or in any city you can think of. Back to Top
Flyin Shoes Review- 11.29.09
Malcolm Holcombe: For The Mission Baby (media) Flyin Shoes Review -by John Davy 11/29/09 Much praised by Bob Harris, Malcolm Holcombe is a man you can't, or shouldn't, ignore. Fortunately for us in Scotland there are two appearances at Celtic Connections and, glory be, an intimate little gig at the Strathpeffer Coffeee Shop to look forward to in January. In truth, I've been struggling to get to grips with this album. It is not smooth and easy, all laid out on a plate for us to lap up. Malcolm's vocals alone are enough to make it rough at the edges; gruff and raw, he sounds like he sings for himself first and foremost, dragging out of himself as best he can the thoughts and emotions running through his mind. Sometimes, mid-song, he seems to like what he hears and makes an appreciative noise as if standing outside his own performance. Bigtime Blues, which opens the album, is as gruff and uncompromising a country blues number as you've probably ever heard and I feared I would find the whole album too much like hard work if there was more of the same. But then, Hannah's Trading Post eased me into more accessible territory; the mix of gruff attack and lyrical playing gives plenty to chew on and the more you listen, the more you realise this man's a pretty extraordinary guitar player, capable of making his instrument produce more than one mood at a time. His producer is Ray Kennedy, famed in particular for working with Steve Earle, and he is presumably responsible for bringing in players that add a sweetness to Malcolm's sound - in particular Jared Tyler on dobro and Tim O'Brien on all things stringed. At times this has a slightly schizophrenic effect - Malcolm's growling away like he's sitting in the gutter with a bottle in his hand, not giving a damn whilst the band is purring smoothly along sounding like Union Station. At other times the marriage is perfect: Tim O'Brien's fiddle playing on Straight and Tall is poignant and well-matched to Malcolm's vocal. Lyrically, Malcolm's on his own planet and tells it just as he sees it - which is a very individual perspective. His writing reminds me of an artist I know whose version of the world connects with ordinary mortals just enough that we're prepared to make the effort to try and connect with all the less obvious stuff. There are some lines that come through and strike me as extraordinarily poetic - "they made love one night, one breath to be" - is one particular line that sticks with me, but the whole of Leonard's Pigpen has passed me by several times without me getting any the wiser as to what it's about. If you only ever want to be comforted by music then I don't think Malcolm's your man - though Another One Gone, for one, is plenty sweet enough; if, on the other hand, you're prepared to engage with a profoundly individual view of the world, then make a bee-line for this man's gigs in January. Back to Top
Arkansas Times - 12.01.09
Arkansas Times December 1, 2009 -by Robert Bell If you’ve ever longed to see an extraordinary, under-heralded singer/songwriter perform in an intimate setting at the peak of his craft — say Townes Van Zandt in 1973 or so — then hopefully you were among the 50-odd people who came to the White Water Tavern last night to see Malcolm Holcombe. The North Carolinian held the crowd in his sway, his powerful songs all firmly rooted in the traditions of folk and blues. He played unaccompanied, often wielding his guitar like one would a chainsaw — with deliberate movements, aware of its potential danger. Other times, he cradled the instrument like it was some wounded creature he’d found in the woods and was trying to nurse back to health. Throughout the performance, he plucked the strings so hard they rang out like a tire iron dropped on the concrete shop floor. It’s amazing that he doesn’t constantly break strings, but perhaps this owes to his considerable chops. It is rare to see such an incredible singer/songwriter who is also a stone badass guitar player. Most just strum their simple chords. Holcombe practically shreds. His singing voice sounded rough and gentle, often at the same time. He told rambling tales that seemed to have no destination, but usually found their way back into the next song. He offered advice for when there’s nobody around to confide in because everyone you know is either working or dead: just get on the city bus, sit up front and talk to the driver. “By the way,” he said, “don’t cut his throat, ‘cause somebody already did that.” He chuckled into the mic, and then launched into “Back to Hell in a Greyhound.” Most of Holcombe’s songs celebrate the basics of life: love, family, friends, work, conflict, hardship, gratitude, good food and sitting around in the cool green grass of the shade. He uses these sturdy components to build timeless songs. These days, there are hordes of performers who truck in “Americana” or “roots” or “folk” music. But Holcombe’s art is no phony drawl, pearl-snap affectation. Nor is it sterile, by-the-numbers old-timey music, suffocated by joyless authenticity. It is the real thing. If that sounds like your cup of tea, you’d best not miss him the next time he comes to town. —Robert Bell Back to Top
Spartanburg Herold Journal - 11.26.09
Spartanburg Herald Journal -By DAN ARMONAITIS November 26, 2009 Because of his gruff voice and enigmatic songwriting style, Asheville, N.C.-based singer-songwriter Malcolm Holcombe has often been critically hailed as an Appalachian version of Tom Waits. Want to go? Who: Malcolm Holcombe with Marc Higgins When: 9:30 p.m. Friday Where: Nu-Way Restaurant and Lounge, 373 E. Kennedy St. Tickets: No cover Information: 582-9685 While the comparison is likely meant as a compliment, it's not something that Holcombe actively embraces. "I don't pay attention to that stuff; it gives me the creeps," Holcombe said. Although Holcombe has been working at his craft for decades, it wasn't until Geffen Records released his "A Hundred Lies" album in 1999 that he began getting widespread attention. But not even a glowing endorsement from Americana queen Lucinda Williams and a four-star review in Rolling Stone were enough to earn Holcombe anything more than a small following on the roots music circuit. "I gave up on cool a long time ago," Holcombe said. "I'm just trying to be of service." Holcombe's admirers may be few in number, but they're fiercely loyal and span the globe. Many feel like they're in on one of the best kept secrets in the music world. "Folks have been awfully good to me and my family for a long, long time," Holcombe said. "Because of them, we've been able to keep the wolf away from the door, a roof over our head, clothes on our back and food in our belly." Holcombe's latest album, "For the Mission Baby," was released this fall on the Echo Mountain label. Working for the third straight time with Grammy-winning producer Ray Kennedy, Holcombe offers an inspiring mix of everything from gut-wrenching, introspective folk to vintage- flavored gospel interspersed with elements of bluegrass, country and blues. "I wanted to keep this effort just as folky, old-timey as I could," Holcombe said. Guests on the album include acclaimed acoustic musicians Tim O'Brien, David Roe and Jared Tyler along with drummer Lynn Williams. Holcombe said he's also inspired by the countless musicians who have befriended him over the years. "I remember (late Marshall Tucker Band co-founder) George McCorkle like he was standing here right now. He was a humble sweetheart and just a really nice guy." Back to Top
Twang Nation - 11.10.09
Twang Nation November 10th 2009 - by Baron Lane “Everybody get’s their own take on a song. They find something that they can tap their foot to or clench their fist to. Hopefully it’ll be somewhere in between.” Malcolm Holcombe Malcolm Holcombe is like a myth. A backwoods character in a Southern Gothic novel with a voice filled with a grave-dirt rattle and telling tales of simpler, and harder, times. Times he knows about. Surviving brushes with Nasvhille Big Labels, addictions and demons – No less than Steve Earle once famously said of him “”Malcolm Holcombe is the best songwriter I ever threw out of my recording studio.” Strong praise from a man that knows a thing or two about demons. On the stage he casts out demons away like a man possessed. Eyes rolled back, head shakes, spinning tales in his graveled yelp, standing up, walking away from his chair in mid-song. Not missing a lick on his guitar. Malcolm Holcombe isn’t for everybody. But if you love music with heart and soul. Music that’s been somewhere and seen a thing or two, then he might be just the man for you. I sat down with Malcolm Holcombe on a rainy afternoon last month in Nashville. Twang Nation: You were bron in Weaverville, N.C., what were your musical influences growing up? Malcolm Holcombe: A lot of different sources. My mama played a little French harp and she was very supportive. I litened to the Grand ‘Ol Opry on the radio, Flatt and Scruggs, and Stringbean (David “Stringbean” Akeman) was always one my favorites. Grandpa Jones. Bluegrass music. And then in the early 60’s when all the Rock ‘n Roll starting hittin’ some of that. Mother had a few records. The Nutcracker Suite and Tennessee Ernie Ford. I had an Uncle that was a Baptist Preacher that made records and we used to play those. Used to sing songs in church. TN: Tell me a little bit about your High School band, the Hilltoppers. MH: Oh yeah, we got out and played a Sadie Hawkins dance or two. We covered some new folk songs, Peter Paul and Mary and such, as well as old folk songs. TN: You lived here in Nashville for a while and had a brush with the big label system. MH: Yeah, I lived in Nashville for several years. I’m not sure what happened when I was with Geffen. My album (100 Lies) got shelved and a lot of folks got axed, people were just moved around the checker board you know? I think things are better now because they sure were in a pile of bullshit for about 8 years. So in my opinion they are looking up. TN: Well, they certainly are for you. You’ve some out of some hard times come back with great work that has some pretty impressive critical and audience support. MH: I don’t know about that. I’m just trying to be of service. TN: I checked out the videos of you on fan made YouTube videos, and checked your Facebook and Myspace pages, and you’ve got a loyal fan base. MH: Well, it flips me out. t’s a miracle. To have a pulse and be able to share a tale or two. It just goes to show that if you hang around the barber shop long enough you’re gonna get a haircut. I just hung on ’til I did. TN:You tour Europe quite a bit don’t you? MH: Yeah, I’ve been fortunate enough to get over there. I met a woman over there, Joanna Serraris (promoter for Musemix) is working with a lot of Americana artists. Andrea Parodi (the late Sardinian Folk Singer) he was a great songwriter, very soulful and passionate. He helped me and used to tour manage and helped a lot of people. TN: Do you have a strong following there? MH: I don’t know, if anybody shows up I’m thankful. TN: Europeans seem to me to be open the rich history of American music that I think you best represent. More than whatever is on pop radio. MH:Well I’ve been fortunate to have folks here and over there that have been appreciative, I can’t say that one part of the world is more so than the other. I’m just glade to be of service doing my job. It’s easy to get complacent. We’re pretty spoiled in America, but we are only 200-plus-change years old. There are peope playing music here that opens doors to the roots music of America and England, Ireland and Germany. Education and open mindedness is the key. I’m hopeful. These are hard old times and I’m just lucky to be of service, to have a job, to have a purpose. TN: Onstage you play like you have a purpose. MH: Well you want folks onstage to deliver. If you’re going to raise corn you gotta get your hands on the plow. TN: You seem to really be in another place onstage. MH: And scared to the dickins! (Laughs) Still scares me to get up there. But I’m glade when I do it. You’re from Dallas right? TN: Yeah. MH: You ever heard of the All Good Cafe? TN: Yeah. That’s a great place to see a show and get a beer. MH: That’s were I saw this guy once there named Slim Ritchie, he plays in Texas a lot. I think he lives down there. He reminded me of Django Reinhardt, Man he was smooth. Made it look easy. I saw this one l little lady around San Antonio that was gifted and talented and was about knee-high to a grasshopper, but she could belt it out, Bianca DeLeon. She’s a fine talent but no bigger than a minute. TN: I’ll check her out. Now on your new album, For The Mission Baby, you are working with producer Ray Kennedy again (he also produced Holcombe”s last release 2008’s Gamblin’ House.) MH: Yeah, I’ve been talking to Ray for a long time and I thought it would be a rewarding experince to work on a project with Ray. And thanks to this little fledgling lebel in Asheville, NC (Echo Mountain Records) we were able to make a deal. They brought Ray on board and let me call the shots and have the creative control and I appreciate that. It’s very rare in this business to make a record like this, with great musicains, without people breathing down your neck to make a hit. Man, make a hit- I don’t even know what that is. It’s beyond my understanding, that’s not my purpose TN: For a typically live solo act you have some great help on this record. MH: Aw it’s wonderful, we had more fun! I saw Tim O’Brien (bouzouki, banjo, mandola, fiddle, harmony vocal) last night and he was right in the pocket at this PBS Song of America taping we did last night. a lot of good people, David Roe on bass, he was on Gamblin’ House and Wager, I wanted to work with him again. Jared Tyler from Tulsa (dobro, lapsteel, harmony vocal), he’s got it in his blood and his skin the way that music pours. And Lynn Williams on percussion, Lynn’s been with Delbert McClinton for years. Ray’s wife Siobhan (Maher) and Mary (Gauthier) on backing vocals. It’s a lot of history ans scary stuff ya know (laughs). But we played as a band and after one or two takes we were done. Very organic. TN; This seems like a more upbeat album than Gamblin’ House. Is it because of the fun in the studio? MH: Well, everybody get’s their own take on a song. They find something that they can tap their foot to or clench their fist to. Hopefully it’ll be somewhere in between. We did have a wonderful two or three days cutting it with thise folks. I have some wonderful memories. Hopefully people will feel that like you do and it’ll ease the burdens of the passing of time. TN:Your finger picking style, playing the bass, rhythm, lead, percussion along with your vocals, reminds me a lot of style of Lightnin’ Hopkins. MH: Well, that’s kind of you to say so. It’s just me trying to hone down desperation, trying to hone down frustration. We’re are all products of our raising, our environment. Like you and Dallas. Where are you now? TN: Right now I live in San Francisco. MH: Man, I love California. It’s really pretty. The most red tailed hawks I’ve ever seen. In Santa Ynez, North of Santa Barbara there’s a place, uh, Tales from the Tavern. It’s run by Ron Colone. He’s got a series that gets folks to spin a tale and pick a tune. Ron’s a sweet man and a promoter and he has this wonderful series of people that come pick and sing. Ramblin’ Jack Elliott’s played there. Have you been? TN: No, but it’s now on my list. MH: Well you need to do. It’s not that far from San Francisco. Sweet people, nice as they can be. TN: You opened for Merle Haggard. Did you get to meet the man? MH: Very briefly. There was one show that I was at and his first song was Silver wings and I just about melted into the floor. TN: Who else have you played with that impressed you? MH: I got to play with John Hammond, he’s a sweetheart. Richard Thompson, he’s such a gentleman. He’s a real picker and writes those great songs. I remember The Fairport Convention, they had great harmony. And Shelby Lynn, she’s a wonderful songer and performer. A lot of people have been good to me thank the Lord. (starts to rain hard) TN: Looks like it’s coming down hard. I’ll wrap up so we can get out of here. MH:Yep, we better get before we all get water logged. 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Knoxville News Sentinel- 11.05.09
Malcolm Holcombe still knows how to get ‘a grin or two’ By Wayne Bledsoe (Contact) Knoxville News Sentinel November 5, 2009 Malcolm Holcombe Malcolm Holcombe has been busy. “My wife keeps me off the couch pretty regular,” says Holcombe, in a call from his home in Swannanoa, N.C. “We went to Dollywood for the first time the other day. I think Dolly did a good job with that.” Holcombe has also been writing and recording a prodigious amount — one CD per year since 2004. All of Holcombe’s releases have been full of heart and sentimentality, and, lyrically, his latest disc, “For the Mission Baby,” may have no fewer melancholy songs than previous releases. Still, in these new performances there is a sense of joy. The picking is more spirited and Holcombe’s always rough-as-a-washed-out-gravel-road voice sometimes sounds almost gleeful. “Anytime you get a bunch of those guys together, it don’t take us long, we’ll have a grin or two,” says Holcombe. “We had a lot of fun.” Holcombe’s sense of fun may have changed over the years. He laughs a lot in the interview. He’s happy to talk about classic horror movies and gardening. And, he says he no longer drinks liquor — a habit that sometimes led to inconsistent or unpredictable performances. As an artist, Holcombe has never wavered. He has been championed by peers, including Steve Earle (who calls him “the best songwriter I ever threw out of my recording studio”) and Lucinda Williams. Were it not for a run of bad luck, when his major label debut album “A Hundred Lies” was put in limbo for three years, Holcombe’s name might well be as well-known as those of Earle and Williams. When “A Hundred Lies” was finally released in 1999 the buzz that Holcombe had intially caused in Nashville had faded. Yet when Holcombe re-emerged in 2004 with the album “Another Wisdom,” his work was stronger than ever. Since that time he has slowly built an international following. “I pay my bills and make ends meet,” says Holcombe. He says fans have been generous both at home and overseas. “In Europe people were just so warm and wonderful I just couldn’t believe it,” he says. “Ireland is just absolutely beautiful. The people are nice and polite and they love to laugh. Holland is like a European Texas. A lot of people over there are real familiar with Steve Earle and Townes (Van Zandt). ... They love stories there. My wife says I talk too much, but I can tell some tales.” For the new album Holcombe traveled back to Nashville to record with producer Ray Kennedy. “I was thinking about Tim (O’Brien) when I was writing (the song) ‘For the Mission Baby,’” says Holcombe. When Holcombe told Kennedy that singer/songwriter/multi-instrumentalist O’Brien was who heard in his head on the tune, Kennedy said, “I’ll call him up and see what he’s doing!” O’Brien ended up not only playing mandola and singing background on that track but performing on several other tracks as well. “And (singer-songwriter) Mary Gauthier popped in and did some singing,” says Holcombe. Holcombe doesn’t go into too much detail about his creative process as a writer, but his characters, both real and imagined, are strong — and it does take some work. “You gotta have some kind of discipline,” he says. “If you wanna brush your teeth, you gotta put the brush in your mouth. You can’t just wait for it to levitate its (expletive), you know? I’m waiting for some muse, some little leprechaun to come flying out of the clouds up my (expletive) with an idea!” Family shows up often in his work, and Holcombe speaks lovingly of his wife, Cynthia, and stepson, Jesse, who was three when Holcombe and Cynthia married. “He’s 11 and smart as a whip,” says Holcombe. “He’s a voracious reader. And he’s a wonderful big help around the house. He’s just a precious young’un. He strengthens my faith in that the love of God is in everybody and in every face.” Back to Top
The Daily Times - 11.05.09
The Daily Times November 05. 2009 -By Steve Wildsmith Malcolm Holcombe returns to East Tennessee with a new 'Mission' Everyone struggles with those metaphorical demons. Some folks spend their entire lives trying to nail shut the door that contains them, putting on airs and giving away mannequin hugs and Kodak smiles trying to pretend everything is OK. Others, like North Carolina-based singer-songwriter Malcolm Holcombe, rip that door off the hinges, let those haints fly free and exorcise them with an acoustic guitar and a scarred, weathered voice that sounds like the pitted nails of a coyote clacking across backwoods blacktop in the dead of night. He does it on every record -- his most recent, "For the Mission Baby," is no different. Released in September, it's exactly what his fans have come to expect from Holcombe -- a slurried mixture of grit and grace and Southern witticisms and a few nuggets of eternal truth thrown in for good measure. But if you ask Holcombe where the songs come from, and he's as puzzled as any other artist who tries to describe the spiritual well from which his or her work springs. "I can't really explain it -- somewhere between heaven and hell," Holcombe told The Daily Times this week, speaking by phone from his North Carolina hometown. "I guess you'd call it purgatory. It's something that comes as a gift and takes place over time. It's kind of like giving birth to something worth passing along rather than (Jimmy Buffett's) 'Why Don't We Get Drunk and Screw,' which is not my cup of tea. "Some people are craftsmen -- they can get out a chainsaw and carve a totem pole. Me, I'd just as soon get a chainsaw and cut off my legs, and do it for my own demise. And some people write songs to take a chainsaw to Fort Knox and make a statement. I'd just as soon hang back in the alley, around the streetlight, and count my blessings with my family and neighbors and good friends and fans." But even that, he added, takes work. He sobered up several years back and makes no secret of his struggles with depression and dependency. While he's had several albums with which to rid himself of those ghosts in the years since, he can never really fully drive them away. Sometimes it just takes buckling down -- suiting up and showing up, he said. "You like to eat corn on the cob, you're gonna have to get your hoe out," he said. "If you like tomatoes, you've got to get your hands in the dirt. If you want to write about how good a peanut butter sandwich tastes, you've gotta sink your teeth into the jar." Most conversations with Holcombe take a similar meandering path. He's a product of his environment -- the mountains of Western North Carolina -- and a conversation with him is filled with off-the-wall analogies, cryptic metaphors and a language that's as foreign as it can be meandering. Born in Asheville, N.C., and raised in nearby Weaverville, Holcombe learned to play the flat-top guitar and joined up with a folk group called The Hilltoppers. Playing fairs, dances and shows throughout the small town of Weaverville and thereabouts, he weaned himself on folk, traditional Appalachian ballads and bluegrass. In 1976, he drifted to Florida and in 1990, to Nashville where he worked odd jobs and soaked up as much of the business side of the industry as possible before going back to North Carolina. He's cut several albums over the years, including one for Geffen, "A Hundred Lies," that earned a four-star review from Rolling Stone. He's been compared to Bruce Springsteen for the way he paints vivid portraits with his songs, turning them into haunting, brooding, moving affairs. "For the Mission Baby" is the latest collection of his artwork. It's classic Holcombe -- dread and melancholy and introspection wafting from songs stacked into a firepit, lit with the liquored breath of a man who spent years at the bottom of a bottle and still fights the demons that dwell within. Holcombe has always been an outsider, but on this album he seems to embrace it more, and there are even a few moments of joy -- as close as Holcombe can come to making a song sound playful, anyway. But for every jaunty "Short Street Blues" or the finger-popping title track, there's the struggle of songs like "A Bigger Plan": "No matter who I am, no one will understand, the same man works to live within a bigger plan ..." It's the second album he's made with Ray Kennedy, former production partner on Steve Earle's E-Squared label, and it includes a number of guests, including Americana icon Tim O'Brien. "He's a wonderful player with heart and soul and compassion," Holcombe said. "Just sitting around the kitchen table and listening to his stories, that kind of started the song that kicked off this whole album. From there, you just put some songs together -- get a needle and thread, sew them up and see if you can make a quilt that'll keep you warm and maybe be worth passing along." If "For The Mission Baby" stands any sort of test of time, he added, isn't for him to say. Like most people, he's his own worst critic, and he doesn't boast about this album or any of his others. The most he'll say about the new record is that it's a road marker pointing to this particular time and place in his life, and given his blessings, it more than likely won't be his last. "Hopefully it has some levity and longevity in it, but then again, it's not up to me to make that decision," he said. "I'm just trying to go ahead and lay it out there. I just scratch down ideas on a piece of paper, and once in a while, Lord willing, if one has some weight to it, it'll hang around the brain bones a little longer and I'll feel like it's worthy of passing on. "That's what we do -- we tell tall tales and short tales and just lay them all out there. And any happiness you get from it comes from within. It's a spiritual thing, and misery is optional today. Anything worth doing is worth doing well, and I do know that there's a hoe handle for every hand -- whether it's using it in the field or using it to wave a peace sign." Back to Top
Blurt Magazine - 10.29.09
Blurt magazine October 29, 2009 -by Andy Tenille "We gotta get out there with a hoe": the Appalachian twanger keeps the burners going. "It certainly doesn't begin with me," Malcolm Holcombe says. "It starts someplace bigger than me, you know? Take that however you like. That's up for grabs there. " Despite having released five LPs and an EP-including 2007's fantastic Gamblin' House- that have earned him reams of critical praise, Malcolm Holcombe deflects credit for the Appalachian folk blues music he's played for the better part of the last twenty years. But when acknowledging the inspiration behind For The Mission Baby, his latest release on Echo Mountain Records, Holcombe is quick to pay credit where credit is due. "I watched that damn helicopter take off from the Capitol, you can bet your sweet bippy on that," he says, of former President George W. Bush's exit from office last January. "There are some people that don't watch television or listen to the radio. I've been through that phase, but I think it's my responsibility with a family to pay attention. Maybe I can muster up some songs weighty enough to surpass my breathe along the way." The 12 songs Holcombe assembled for For The Mission Baby deal with greed, poverty, corruption and war, modern day fables filtered through his Everyman sensibilities. On "Doncha Miss That Water," Holcombe references Hurricane Katrina, with New Orleans native Mary Gauthier providing beautiful vocal accompaniment. ("Her soul just bled all over that tune," he says.) Perhaps the biggest influence on For The Mission Baby are the contributions from multi-instrumentalist Tim O'Brien, whose diverse talents Holcombe foresaw when writing for the album. "I thought his playing would be very in keeping with the songs, but I didn't know Tim," he recalls. "I asked Ray [Kennedy, the album's producer] if he thought Tim might like to pick and sing some on this and he told me to give him a call. Next thing I know, Tim's knocking on the door with a slew of instruments. His spirit is as much a part of these songs as anything else was at their birth." For the second record in a row, Holcombe worked with Grammy-winning Kennedy (Steve Earle, Waylon Jennings, David Allen Coe), whose recording approach is conducive to Holcombe's relaxed, down-home demeanor. "Ray's got the patience of Job and is totally consumed with bringing out the best in the songs," he says. "We both like keeping all the burners going on the stove..e' He's a pa The good Lord will give us the rain and the sunshine, but man, we gotta get out there with a hoe. When it comes, I try to be ready." Back to Top
Maverick - November 2009
Maverick November 2009 Malcolm Holcombe For the Mission Baby PDF Article Back to Top
Americana UK - 10.10.09
Americana UK 10 October, 2009 -by Lynne Pettinger Malcolm Holcombe “For the Mission Baby” (Echo Mountain Records, 2009) dark twang With the swampiest, deepest of bluesy growls, like your Granddad when he's smoked 20 woodbines, Malcolm Holcombe is letting it all hang out on his 8th solo album. There's sonic ambition to this record that sets it above the habitual singer-songwriter story of struggle. The djembe and bouzouki on 'Hannah's Tradin' Post', for example, suggest open-mindedness, and sit nicely alongside the dobro. Other tracks are made by a more classic selection of backwoods twang-struments: fiddle (played by grammy winner Tin O'Brien) and mandola and vintage Gibson. There's a brief appearance from Mary Gauthier on one of the sweeter sounding tracks, 'Doncha Miss that Water', where Holcombe restrains his growl to something more plaintive. The songs are most interesting when they're storytelling about the neighbourhood ('Short Street Blues', 'For the Mission Baby'), but its the gentler songs that have the more appealing sound; the stand out track is the melancholic, restrained 'Straight and Tall'. Overall, this is real country. Reviewers Rating: 8 out of 10 Back to Top
Country Standard Time - October 2009
Country Standard Time October 2009 - by Rick Cornell For the Mission Baby (2009) Western North Carolina's Malcolm Holcombe is a unique performer. He takes to the stage with a chair that he might as well kick away 30 seconds in and with a stare that looks a mile past you even as it's lasering through your core. He's got a 1950 Gibson guitar that can moan the most mournful country blues or hum the most joyous love song. And he's got the long-journey voice to handle both. But unique only gets you so far without songs. Not to worry: Holcombe's got songs, always has. And the back half of this latest collection - starting with the jaunty, vaguely Celtic title track - represents Holcombe at his most accessible and most disarmingly direct in terms of both music and message. (Holcombe, no doubt, would want to share the credit with Ray Kennedy's uncluttered production.) On Another One Gone and Doncha Miss That Water - the former blessed with Tim O'Brien's fiddle, the latter with Mary Gauthier's harmonies - Holcombe softens his down-the-road gaze and locks in for a real front-porch conversation eased along by folk-rock at its most rustic. Someone Left Behind offers Holcombe's most quotable chorus in the form of "There's one who does the hurtin'/Two feel the pain/One who takes the train/Another takes the blame," but the record's most memorable creation is Whenever I Pray, a striking bit of mountain-church gospel. And even when a song like Bigtime Blues seems to exist only for Holcombe to pick and growl, the smoldering emotion is undeniable. And you get to bask in the wood smoke it trails. Back to Top
Blogcritics Music - 10.16.09
Blogcritics Music October 16, 2009 by Jon Sobel Malcolm Holcombe, For the Mission Baby Malcolm Holcombe isn't for everybody. In a minor key, his grey, gravelly voice can sound like an extended death rattle. His new CD opens with the insistent plod and slightly too-loud bass of "Bigtime Blues," with nearly unintelligible lyrics, as if Holcombe is daring you to plunge in to something dangerous. "Hannah's Tradin' Post," about an abandoned gold mining settlement, drily evokes the emptiness of a ghost town. Listening to these songs, you have to lean in to understand what's going on. This is a good thing. On disc, you don't get the benefit of Holcombe's hyper-physical presence, his shaggy, almost violent guitar attack, or the full measure of his humor – for those, catch him live. But this CD, with its unstoppable beats, David Roe's pounding upright bass, and the sere plinking of Holcombe's 1950 Gibson J-45 acoustic guitar, is a respectable approximation. Though his songs take traditional forms, his sound and his outlook make Holcombe a true original. His strange singing style can suggest or even verge on the abstract, but there's a canny and fully engaged songwriting sensibility underlying that effect. He can play nice and accuse at the same time: "I ain't got what I want / Never enough / But I got what I need... I ain't got what I want / You have it all." There's lyricism in the almost pastoral "Doncha Miss That Water" and humor in the jaunty "Short Street Blues": "Honey make some coffee, pack up the boxes / Pick your panties up off that floor / We ain't living on Short Street anymore." There are themes here too – missions, a tentative sort of salvation, and "someone left behind.." The waltz "Whenever I Pray" resembles "Satisfied Mind," but rather than ending the disc on that triumphant note, he closes it with a sad song about abandonment – which nevertheless allows that "there's better days ahead." "There's one who does the hurtin' / Two who feel the pain." Gravelly voice and all, this troubadour has a way with a song. If a mix of the raw and the lyrical is your kind of brew, this disc should satisfy. And go see him live if you ever have the chance. Back to Top
Pasadena Weekly - 10.08.09
Pasadena Weekly 10/8/09 MALCOLM HOLCOMBE, For the Mission Baby (Echo Mountain): (4 out of 5 stars) North Carolinian Holcombe possesses a rough, sometimes mystifying quality that makes loyalists of listeners and fellow artists riveted by his guttural delivery, insightful lyrics and rhythmic melodies mining the seams between folk, blues, country and soul. This is his most musically engaging work, with guest turns by Mary Gauthier, Tim O’Brien and producer Ray Kennedy. Holcombe still explores dark realms, but this offers some of his most upbeat and accessible songs, notably the rollicking title track and “Someone Left Behind” (“There’s better days ahead in time, Lord/ For someone somewhere left behind”). malcolmholcombe.com. Back to Top
Americana UK - October 2009
Americana UK 10/4/2009 -by Lynne Pettinger Malcolm Holcombe “For the Mission Baby” (Echo Mountain Records, 2009) dark twang With the swampiest, deepest of bluesy growls, like your Granddad when he's smoked 20 woodbines, Malcolm Holcombe is letting it all hang out on his 8th solo album. There's sonic ambition to this record that sets it above the habitual singer-songwriter story of struggle. The djembe and bouzouki on 'Hannah's Tradin' Post', for example, suggest open-mindedness, and sit nicely alongside the dobro. Other tracks are made by a more classic selection of backwoods twang-struments: fiddle (played by grammy winner Tin O'Brien) and mandola and vintage Gibson. There's a brief appearance from Mary Gauthier on one of the sweeter sounding tracks, 'Doncha Miss that Water', where Holcombe restrains his growl to something more plaintive. The songs are most interesting when they're storytelling about the neighbourhood ('Short Street Blues', 'For the Mission Baby'), but its the gentler songs that have the more appealing sound; the stand out track is the melancholic, restrained 'Straight and Tall'. Overall, this is real country. Back to Top
NetRhythms - October 2009
NetRhythms October 2009 by Mike Davies ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Malcolm Holcombe - For The Mission Baby (Echo Mountain) The follow up to last year’s Gamblin’ House, if anything the North Carolina native’s fifth album finds his rusty voice even more gravelly and gummier than before, making Tom Waits sound like Aled Jones. The music, though, remains unchanged, a mix of homegrown stomping mountain blues and bluegrass, dry dust Americana and (on Doncha Miss That Water featuring Mary Gauthier on harmonies) Prine-like folk country. Mandolin, banjo, dobro, djembe, lapsteel and even bouzouki come courtesy of musicians that include Tim O’Brien, Jared Tyler and producer Ray Kennedy, with numbers that range from the swampy stomps of Bigtime Blues and Leonard’s Pigpen through the throaty swaggering You Have It All and a foot stamping good time swing Short Street Blues to the bluegrass title track and talking coal-dusted - and pow wow rhythm - blues of Hannah’s Tradin’ Post. Although Holcombe is clearly no slouch at shaking the floorboards, it’s the slower, broodier numbers that stand tallest, most strikingly the slurred, fiddle accompanied Another One Gone (which seems to be about a child’s death), Someone Left Behind (death and broken relationships) and, backed by just bass and fiddle, the plain speaking prayer that is Straight And Tall. Mission accomplished. Back to Top
Asheville Citizen-Times - October 2, 2009
Asheville Citizen-Times Take 5 October 2, 2009 - by Michael Flynn Take5 correspondent • Local legend Malcolm Holcombe celebrates latest CD Asheville music calendars feature all sorts of acoustic troubadours, but no one who sounds like local singer-songwriter Malcolm Holcombe. Rustic, penetrating and soulful, Holcombe's music has been praised by sources from Rolling Stone to The Wall Street Journal, and Billboard to the BBC. “From the first note I was drawn in,” fellow Americana musician Lucinda Williams has said. “(He) is an old soul and a modern day blues poet.” Holcombe's eighth album, “For the Mission Baby,” was released this week on local label Echo Mountain, and the Weaverville native is celebrating with a gig Saturday at The Grey Eagle. Jared Tyler, who plays dobro on the record, opens the show. Recorded in Nashville, the new CD has been hailed as a return to Holcombe's folk and country blues roots. The performer, 54, reacts to that description with typical down-home charm and elliptical insight. “If you stop looking for something, it will bite you in the butt,” he said. “There's an old saying, ‘I don't know if I'm washing or hanging out.'” Take 5 caught up with Holcombe at home in Swannanoa as he begins an extended tour in support of the new record. Question: What's your reaction to releasing your eighth album, which is quite a catalog? Answer: I don't think that much about it. You're only as good as your next one. Q: A couple of tunes on the album were written in 1993 — what drew you back to those songs? A: I thought they were kind of fitting with the theme of this thing. They just seem to go together. I've wanted to cut those songs for a long time, and the wind was blowing in that direction. Q: You're a WNC native — how does that make its way into your music? A: If you're going to write about homemade ice cream, you've got to get your hands on the crank. I haven't been to Mars lately, so I don't know nothing about it. Everybody puts their own take on things. Q: You worked with many of the same folks on the new CD as your last release, “Gamblin' House.” What do you like about this team? A: It's wonderful. We had a big old time. (Bass player) David Roe is just as talented and as gifted a professional as they come. He worked with Johnny Cash for 17 years. He just makes the doghouse (stand-up bass) walk and talk. Q: How do you feel about praise from notable fellow artists? A: It makes me nervous as a bobtail cat under a rocking chair. A lot people came before me — it's very humbling. Q: On the new album you sing, “No matter who I am, no one will understand.” Is that autobiographical? A: It seems to be quite rampant in this world's culture — people who don't take enough time to listen. It's not a one-way street. Q: Do you think this town will continue to attract and cultivate good musicians? A: Yes — it's a hotbed for writers, players and creativity. It's a wagging tale on a hunting dog. Back to Top
The Nashville Scene- October 1, 2009
The Nashville Scene October 1, 2009 Malcolm Holcombe at The Basement -By Jewly Hight Gritty folk bluesman Malcolm Holcombe doesn’t just do things differently—he does them inside out and backwards. Which is, no doubt, one reason why he’s such a compelling singer-songwriter. Plenty tales of artistic triumph revolve around how some aspiring, guitar-toting soul gets to town and toughs it out for years before having their breakthrough. Holcombe’s done some of his best work since he moved back to North Carolina and got sober; that includes 2007’s Gamblin’ House and his new one, For the Mission Baby. He’ll twist the stories and sounds in his songs around, and sideswipe listeners in the process. The title cut of his latest is a case in point: he’s singing about a couple of kids who are too young, poor and restless to keep their baby, and it’s coming off like one of the Carter Family’s sunnier sides. And another thing about his singing: With his wolvish, gravelly delivery, he can make hunger sound like satisfaction—and vice versa. Back to Top
Bristol News - October 1, 2009
Bristol News October 1, 2009 -by Tom Netherland Malcolm Holcombe- For the Mission Baby Holcombe again works with the usual suspects from his critical break through Gamblin’ House. Ray Kennedy returns as the producer. Familiar faces like picker Tim O’Brien, bassist Jared Tyler and drummer Kenny Malone back Holcombe up with a seamless blend of Appalachian folk and traditional blues. The record rambles along at a confident pace. While Holcombe’s raspy voice may be closer to Dylan’s, the edge in his voice is closer to a razor sharp Kris Kristofferson or Tom Waits. Like those legendary songwriters, Holcombe’s songs manage to sound timeless and original, not an easy feat. Holcombe is an artist just under the radar; the kind of artist that takes a listen or two to appreciate, but worth the effort. Back to Top
Mountain Xpress - September 30, 2009
Mountain Xpress “Get out the plow, get out there and do it” Malcolm Holcombe returns with his seventh full-length album -by Dane Smith Malcolm Holcombe has a clear sense of the bigger picture. Critics sing his praises, his peers hold him in the highest esteem (Steve Earle called him “the best musician I ever threw out of my recording studio”), and he plays to adoring fans across the United States and Europe. But Holcombe is surprisingly quick to downplay it all. As Holcombe says, he’s just “embellishing other people’s ideas.” “’Everybody’s a songwriter,’ is what this old friend of mine and mentor said in town,” he says. “It took me years and years to try and get an idea of what he was talking about. I’m just passing along thoughts and information. Maybe somebody can get some use out of it or not, but we’re always writing. Everybody’s got their story within.” Holcombe, though, is especially adept at telling his. With his gravely voice and Everyman narratives, the North Carolina native conveys an unmistakable authenticity that can only come from living. And he’s has done plenty of that. From his early days on the road to working odd jobs in Nashville, Holcombe has experienced the triumphs and struggles that fill his songs. But that’s not to say that the stories themselves are directly from life. “I’m just dealing with the human condition,” he says, with typical indirectness. “It’s a bit of history and philosophy and beliefs. We’re all from God, we just need to stay connected.” These days Holcombe is having no trouble staying connected to listeners. Gushing reviews of his work appear in publications ranging from Rolling Stone to the Wall Street Journal, and his last album, Gamblin’ House, spent nine weeks in the Americana Music Association chart’s top 20. Last year, he was tapped to contribute a track to the Songs of America project — a three-disc album that chronicles the nation’s history through song — alongside a diverse pool of artists ranging from John Mellencamp to Devendra Banhart. Holcombe imagines his selection, a colonial era tune called “The Old Woman Taught Wisdom,” being sung at the surrender at Yorktown. “There’s no proof that that song was sung during the surrender or on the battlefield,” he admits, “but it’s possible. It’d be like us singing “Yankee Doodle Dandee” or sitting around singing a tune in our head or singing to ourselves while we’re getting’ drunk or as you’re walking around or ridin’ along. That’s my take on it. It’s pretty much like a Randy Newman, but the personification is of Old England.” This week, his seventh effort, For the Mission Baby, hits stores and proves the acclaim has been well earned. From its twangy, infectious title track to the feel-good toe-tapper “Short Street Blues,” For the Mission Baby is heartfelt and sincere and Appalachian to the core. And it all seems to come so effortlessly. It’s clear the man was born to be storyteller. Conversation with Holcombe is sure to be full of offbeat quips that could easily be incorporated into song, and his very description of the craft is about as intuitive as they come. “There’s no process or formula,” he says. “If you wanna plow a field and plant some corn, you’ve gotta get out the plow, and get out there and do it. Leave the rest up to God.” With this latest release, Holcombe is taking to the road, with shows booked into March of next year, including a two-month stint in Europe, where Holcombe has had been greeted with open arms, slated to begin in January. Even though his style is at it’s very core an American grown form of music, the always inclusive Holcombe says European audiences can relate just as well a his fans at home. “We’re all immigrants in this town, in this world, you know. Over there or over here. It’s the universal commonality: smiles, eyes, huggin’ and shakin’ hands, kissin’ and cryin’ and laughing. People laugh the same way in any language.” But before he hops the pond, Holcombe will be headlining the Grey Eagle for his hometown crowd. Though you’d never guess it from his animated stage presence, the seasoned performed admits that he still gets nervous. “I’m scared to death,” he says. “I’ve been doing this a while, but it’s still an adventure. “ But, Holcombe points out, playing at home does have its perks. “I know where the coffee pot is there.” Back to Top
Nine Bullets - September 30, 2009
Nine Bullets - Sept. 30, 2009 Malcolm Holcombe – For the Mission Baby Last week Kasey wrote a piece about Tom Russell and I wanted to put this up the very next day. It failed to happen because I am exceptionally lazy and terribly behind. I wanted to put those posts back to back because I think there are a lot of parallels between their careers. Both have been around, seemingly, forever and despite that longevity neither have ever managed to really break into the mainstreams conscience. Hell, it could be argued that they’ve barely even cracked the conscience of the folks that follow this genre(s) of music. At one point, Malcolm got pretty close. Even managing to sign a recording contract with Geffen Records before finding shelter in drugs and booze. He spent years building a reputation as being unhinged, unpredictable and all around undesirable on the Nashville scene so Malcolm retreated back to his North Carolina roots where he ultimately sobered up and got back to music. A couple of DIY albums later Malcolm found himself back in the critics graces with 2008’s release, Gamblin’ House. While Gamblin’ House was widely fawned upon by critics it went generally unnoticed by the Americana music purchasing community. Now, in 2009, much like Tom Russell, Malcolm has quite possibly released the best album of his career with For The Mission Baby. Now, there are two comparisons I hate in music writing. I hate when bands get compared to The Replacements and I hate when singes get compared to Tom Waits. Why? Well, it basically comes down to a case of familiarity meets pretentiousness. The Replacements more so than Waits, but I think they’re sexy names to drop cause fringe music fans know the names but not really the music. Thus I view both as the high fructose corn syrup version of critical credibility. Is that fair? Probably not, but I venture to guess that 99% of all people 25 and under couldn’t pick a Replacements song out of a Beyonce’ lineup. Have I used said comparisons in my own writing? You bet your ass I have and I’m about to do it again… Whenever I try to describe Malcolm’s voice to others I describe it as “the homeless southern more tone rich cousin of Tom Waits“. There is a lyric in the Drive-By Truckers song, Outfit, that goes, “a southern man tells better jokes“. There is a subtlety to that line that can be found in a rich southern drawl and that’s the subtlety I’m referring to. Now, Kasey said, “Until further notice, this is the best record of the year” when he opened his piece about Tom’s record so let me officially declare this article, further notice. Back to Top
stereosubversion - September 29, 2009
Malcolm Holcombe – For the Mission Baby Album Reviews • Tuesday September 29th, 2009 • 11:11 am By Andrew Greenhalgh It’s a biased statement but I love the Americana genre largely because it resonates with honesty. While there are certainly those within the genre who have latched onto the music and the sound as a career move, much the way Hootie and Jessica Simpson are now “country” singers, the majority within that which is known as “Americana music” seem to ooze authenticity. This is a brand of music that is no holds barred honest and that relies on that honesty to carry the burden of the whole. This has never been more true than on North Carolina picker Malcolm Holcombe’s latest, For The Mission Baby. For The Mission Baby is as honest and gritty as it gets. The messages herein come from a place deep within Holcombe and oozes out through his gritty vocals and bluesy musical approach. Joined by heavyweights like David Roe (upright bass), Lynn Williams (drums), and the multifaceted Tim O’Brien and you’re standing on firm ground. Add in the harmony vocals of fellow artists Siobhan Maher and one of my favorites, Mary Gauthier, and you can’t lose. And Holcombe doesn’t. Bursting out of the gate with the plodding “Bigtime Blues,” the artist bites off his lyrics with gusto, charging them with energy and down home passion. You can almost hear the booze being poured. An Appalachian tale is told through the story of “Hannah’s Tradin’ Post” while “Leonard’s Pigpen” bring a compelling blues/folk jam to bear with some great dobro work by Jared Tyler. “You Have It All” is one of the album’s highlights, offering up the image of one who’s always struggling with the idea that “I ain’t got what I want it’s never enough,” ultimately coming to the conclusion, “There’s a taste in my mouth bitter as gold/ I cant swallow the blues and keep my eyes closed/ Well the cat ate the bird he’s grinnin’ for sure/ Buzzards flyin’ low bringin’ a cure.” Holcombe wisely follows that track up with the levity of “Short Street Blues” which segues nicely back into more introspective themes with the faith questions of “A Bigger Plan” and the heartbreak of the title track, strangely contrasted with a jaunty backdrop. “Another One Gone” slows the tempo again and showcases some nice fiddle work from O’Brien while “Doncha Miss That Water” keeps the pace steady. “Straight and Tall” is another album highlight, finding Holcombe seemingly channel a bit of Dylan for this understated near prayer. Holcombe sings: “A warm shirt for the cold/ A lil’ food to fill the void/ So kindly make your plans/ Use my back and arms/ Make me straight and tall.” “Whenever I Pray” is a lovely ode to small-town country life that would make Wendell Berry proud and album closer, “Someone Left Behind,” offers up a snippet of hope without offering easy answers. It simply makes you wishing there was more. Malcolm Holcombe is a guy that has lived the life, has been down and out, and has seen his way to some sense of light. The songs contained on For The Mission Baby and keen snapshots and reflections on those times and experiences and are well worth experiencing yourself. If you’re looking for honest music, look no further. Holcombe’s your guy. http://www.stereosubversion.com/reviews/album-reviews/malcolm-holcombe-for-the-mission-baby-09-29-2009/ Back to Top
Twangville - August 27, 2009
Twangville August 27, 2009 by Eli Petersen Malcolm Holcombe- For the Mission Baby Malcolm Holcombe growls in a characteristic rasp that has defined Bob Dylan’s latter career, but there is an intensity there that makes the listener sit up and take notice. “For the Mission Baby”, to be released on Echo Mountain Records, follows a string of critically acclaimed Holcombe records, mostly recorded in North Carolina after Holcombe’s expulsion from Nashville. Holcombe had been signed by Geffen records in the mid-90’s, but problems with drugs and alcohol derailed his career (Steve Earle once called him “the best singer songwriter I ever threw out of my studio”). Sobering up and moving back to his home state of North Carolina led Holcombe to reacquire his muse and “For the Mission Baby” maybe his best work to date. Holcombe again works with the usual suspects from his critical break through Gamblin’ House. Ray Kennedy returns as the producer. Familiar faces like picker Tim O’Brien, bassist Jared Tyler and drummer Kenny Malone back Holcombe up with a seamless blend of Appalachian folk and traditional blues. The record rambles along at a confident pace. While Holcombe’s raspy voice may be closer to Dylan’s, the edge in his voice is closer to a razor sharp Kris Kristofferson or Tom Waits. Like those legendary songwriters, Holcombe’s songs manage to sound timeless and original, not an easy feat. Holcombe is an artist just under the radar; the kind of artist that takes a listen or two to appreciate, but worth the effort. Back to Top
Hero Hill - August 14, 2009
Hero Hill Friday, August 14, 2009 Reviews:: Malcolm Holcombe For the Mission Baby There are very few artists that I love enough to check websites/myspace/twitter, hoping for any insight about upcoming releases. Ironically, one of the few people I cyber stalk, is a man that probably could care less about the internet or keeping his fans current. Malcolm Holcombe has been making music for 30+ years with a gravelly voice as worn as the tires on an old rusted out pickup truck. Honestly, probably nothing about his americana song writing will ever reach out to a wide audience, but I think he's ok with that. Throw in the fact he’s on a label – Echo Mountain – that truly seems to care more about getting great music out to the public than flooding publications with PR hype hoping to rake in big bags of dollars from sales and commercial placements, and it's easy to see why this talent is so under appreciated. We have little pull when it comes to making artists famous, but maybe if we take the time to talk about him, you will take the time to listen and discover a truly fantastic artist. When we last heard from Malcolm (Gamblin’ House - review), I was blown away by how easily he spun spun tales and still kept your toes tapping. With deft picking an old soul and a broken heart, you felt like Holcombe saddled up to the stool beside you at the local pub and just started talking. Not much about Malcolm has changed with the release of For the Mission Baby. If pressed, I’d guess he mutter something about old dogs and new tricks but thanks to the help of Ray Kennedy’s production, every note on the new record sounds the way Holcombe intended. Starting with the stomp a hole in the floor beat of Bigtime Blues, Holcombe gives his fans another trip back in time to the mountains of North Carolina, but he and his band also offer up new textures and a bigger sound. Tim O’Brien’s mandolin, Jared Tyler’s dobro, a nice rhythm section and some terrific backing vocals, For the Mission Baby just seems like a fuller effort. As you embrace the groove they find on A Bigger Plan, the humor and swing of Soul Street Blues or the tenderness he fuses into the gentle picks of Another One Gone (the strings are great) and the Waits-y Straight and Tall, it becomes obvious For the Mission Baby is the record Holcombe was meant to put out. To be fair, Malcolm is an artist I’d listen to and rave about, even if I wasn’t a blogger, but he’s blown me away with this record. I could listen to the summery title track or the simple strums and keep time beat of Doncha Miss That Water for hours, driving out of the city just to watch the odometer turn, but every song on the record showcases a new depth of sound and emotion. If you are a fan of mountain blues, dark country and americana, I there's no artist I could recommend more. Back to Top
Metromix - July 23, 2009
Metromix July 23, 2009 By Matt Wake Malcolm Holcombe: The man behind the mysterious couplets Holcombe plays Nu-Way in Spartanburg July 24 The maple-syrup voiced answers could pass for lines from a Southern gothic novel: “magnet of enlightenment,” “a neck to juke” and “it doesn’t matter if it’s Ford or Chevrolet as long as it rolls.” And although Malcolm Holcombe sounds like he’s been around since the beginning of time, he still remembers his first instrument. “A harmonica,” Holcombe says. “And I couldn’t play it worth shit.” He remembers the first record he bought, too—a 45 of The Rolling Stones “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction,” purchased at Kress, an Asheville five-and-dime when he was 10-years-old. These days, he’s not picky about what guitar he plays, “as long as it has five or six strings.” The North Carolina singer describes his upcoming album, “For the Mission Baby,” in a similar tone: "bluesy-grassy” and dealing with “politics of the heart.” Holcombe’s previous release, 2008’s “Gamblin’ House,” brims with rogue charm. Thorny guitar and mysterious couplets (“friends in my wallet,” etc.) highlight the title track, while “Evelyn” saunters with catfish bass and banjo hiccups. You come up with some real original lyrics. Where do those ideas come from? We all have pathways to spirituality and to a purpose and wanting to belong in this world. Music helps me be a part of the world and hopefully a better world that is not here. These inspirations come from everywhere, man—from cave-wall paintings all the way to pecking on a typewriter. I’m not sure computers are of this world. If you had to tell someone a single song that distills your songwriting essence, which would you suggest? Well, I didn’t write “Smoke on the Water,” but that’s before your time. Actually, I know Deep Purple well. Oh, cool. That’s a hard one. You’ve been thinking of some hard questions, haven’t you? I guess “Another One Gone,” a song on the new record. It’s about trying to get on the good foot, things we all struggle with. Hopefully it can be a release from worries and a celebration of having feet to dance. You’ve opened for Merle Haggard a couple times. Yeah, I was scared shitless. It was very humbling. The first song he played was “Silver Wings” and Red Volker was on guitar. Merle Haggard is Merle Haggard everyday—he was right on, man. He was quiet and courteous and very humble. It was a pleasure. Your way with words makes me wonder about your favorite books. I like Thomas Wolfe “The Web and The Rock” and this book by John Ehle. It’s a book about the building of the railroad through Old Fort Mountain. It took them about 10 years to put the railroad through there in the late 1800s and early 1900s. You’ve been on the BBC with Bob Harris and lauded by Rolling Stone critic David Fricke. How does it feel to be singled out by such tastemakers? I don’t worry about it very much, Matt. You hang around the barber shop long enough, you get a haircut. What’s the title of your upcoming album “For the Mission Baby” in reference to? Songs mean different things to different people, so that will be up to the listener, and hopefully how they relate to it, too, whether they pat their foot, rub their belly or get down on their knees. Back to Top
Conroe Courier (Houston) - June 2009
Conroe Courier (Houston) June 22, 2009 by Jay Ross Martin (partial article) Well after a short intermission Malcolm Holcombe took the stage. Now if you’ve never seen Malcolm think of a hillbilly Tom Waits. No doubt about it he is one strange character, however, there is also no doubt this singer/songwriter from the hills of North Carolina is one gifted songwriter and finger picking guitarist. If you get through all the antics you realize you have a cross between Tom Waits and Guy Clark. Strange as he may appear at your first encounter with Mr. Holcombe anyone from Nashville will tell you he is revered by his peers in Music City. He can walk into the legendary songwriters’ venue, the Blue Bird Café and hold his own with Guy Clark, Steve Earle and any of his old buddies. While watching Malcolm think about his major label debut and his being sent out on the road in hamster skinned cowboy boots, tight jeans, big buckled western belt, sequined shirt and cowboy hat. He fits that model like the Clampetts fit the Beverly Hills scene. After a short period he gave it up to concentrate on songwriting. It’s like he told me, “Jay, I ain’t no monkey.” The crowd loved Malcolm and they loved Jubal Lee Young. Malcolm Holcombe’s latest CD “Gamblin’ House” is in my opinion a really good piece of work and his best release ever. Malcolm Holcombe plays the Corner Pub about twice a year and I’m confident he’ll be back at Dosey Does so check him out next time he is in our area. Back to Top
Mountain Xpress - April 2009
Mountain Xpress- Vol. 15 / Iss. 40 by Alli Marshall 04/29/2009 “Pass it around like cornbread and beans” If Malcolm Holcombe isn't a legend yet, here's why he should be. “I’ve played every watering hole and just about every crack in the sidewalk in Buncombe County and of course I don’t remember all of it,” singersongwriter Malcolm Holcombe says. For those who recall the early 1990s heyday of acoustic folk (when clubs like Be Here Now and McDibbs booked sincere songsters like David LaMotte and Christine Kane) it seems like Holcombe has been part of the scene forever. Though his old-as-the-hills adages and craggy visage lend to that perception, Holcombe’s rough-hewn vocals (of late he’s been dubbed “The Tom Waits of the Appalachians"), gritty folk-blues strumming and not-so-nice-guy lyrics set him apart from the squeaky clean David Wilcoxes once (gently) rocking college campuses and regional radio stations. Across the pond: Holcombe’s been touring nationally and in Europe. “It’s a blessing and a miracle that they got this old hillbilly on one side of the water and the other,” he says. If Holcombe—now six CDs (depending on how you count) and four decades (depending on if you believe what you read in Holcombe’s spotty bio) into his career—seems under-celebrated and chronically under-the-radar, he’s also proven timeless. Each disc Holcombe (currently one of three acts signed to the Echo Mountain label) puts out is hailed by critics as “Malcolm Holcombe at his very best”; last year’s Gamblin’ House earns that accolade. From the opening thump of “My Ol’ Radio,” and the Americana-tinged stomp of the title track, to the snarl of “Evelyn,” this is a fully realized collection. So how does Holcombe maintain not only his sinewy writing ability, but a tour schedule that has him on the road about half the year? “I ain’t got time to get tired,” he says. The musician spent most of the past January and February playing his way across Western Europe. He welcomes that fan base: “They have been awfully good to me and my family and I’m very grateful,” he says. “I’m just glad to be working and times are hard, so it’s a blessing and a miracle that they got this old hillbilly on one side of the water and the other. Still, Holcombe isn’t willing to compare his overseas shows to those on home turf. “Here is here and over there is over there,” he tells Xpress. “And there’s about 4,600 miles difference.” Holcombe does care about the larger context of his music. “A lot of the instruments and the folklore had their birth in Europe. Native Americans, as well, made their contributions,” he says, momentarily trading a mountain drawl for a studied metaphor. “I think we’re the low men on the totem pole here in the United States of America as far as being with age and longevity in the music business. Whether it be creating or bastardizing.” Thinking globally and locally, Holcombe also keeps tabs on the Asheville scene. “This town’s changed a lot in the past 35 or 40 years, so once in a while I’ll poke my head around.” Among the roster of musicians who inspire him, Holcombe names Woody Wood, Annie Lalley and Don Pedi. He’s also a fan of local studio and record label Echo Mountain, where he recorded Gamblin’ with Grammy winning producer Ray Kennedy. “They have given me an opportunity to work on my craft and make records and [they] offered a very unusual relationship that gives me creative control,” Holcombe says. “They worked very hard and got this mule to plow and I’m happy to be plowing.” Plan are in the works for a new album ("We’re gonna sling it around. We’re gonna pass it around like cornbread and beans.") hopefully with Kennedy again, possibly recorded in Nashville, though the musician cautions, “You don’t count your chickens before they hatch.” He could begin laying down tracks this month: “It’s penciled in. We’re just sharpening our pencils and keeping a box full of erasers.” That one-day-at-a-time resolve seems to permeate Holcombe’s current approach to music. Gamblin’ tracks “Baby Likes a Love Song” and “Cynthia Margaret” elucidate a happy marriage and a settling-down previously absent from the artist’s road warrior persona. “You know, if you sit in the barber chair long enough you’re gonna get a haircut,” he says cryptically. Writing about personal experience is, he explains, “just what we do. If we’re going down an old stone pathway and we stub our toe, we’re probably gonna let somebody know about it. If we see a bird in a tree, we’re probably gonna describe it and share it. We as humans have a hard time keeping our mouths shut.” Whatever the end result, Holcombe is committed to translating life’s turns into song—though listeners shouldn’t expect repeat performances. “Once it’s been done it’s been done,” he says. “I’ll always play the tunes and I guarantee it won’t sound like the record.” Back to Top
Xroads France - February 2009
Xroads France magazine February 2009 by Jacques Eric Legarde PDF Article Back to Top
Uncut Magazine - January 2009
Malcolm Holcombe Gamblin' House Gypsy Eyes * * * * Killer sixth from bluff north Carolina songwriter Malcolm Holcombe belongs to the Guy Clark school of grizzled old country-folk, voice crackling like an open fire over stringy acoustic guitar, the odd harmonica blowing through the door. But there's something altogether more thrilling about his approach, a seismic voice prone to sudden eruptions, as on "Going' Downtown" and the disquieting "Goodtimes". There's real soul here, and plenty of blues ("I got friends in my wallet/They love me like a fool" he sings on "Gamblin' House"), suggesting he's more than worthy of the same overground success as Seasick Steve. Back to Top
Otago Daily Times 01.01.09
Otago Daily Times January 1, 2009 review by Shane Gilchrist PDF Article Back to Top
Maverick Article January 2009
Malcolm Holcombe PDF Article Back to Top
Maverick Review January 2009
Malcolm Holcombe Gamblin' House PDF Article Back to Top
Tip Berlin 12.19.08
Malcolm Holcombe Gamblin' House PDF Article Back to Top
The Tennessean 12.11.08
Holcombe's songs chill, comfort at once PDF Article Back to Top
NetRhythms 12.06.08
Malcolm Holcombe Gamblin' House PDF Article Back to Top
The Independent 12.05.08
Malcolm Holcombe Gamblin' House PDF Article Back to Top
Shakin Weld 12.03.08
Malcolm Holcombe February 2009 PDF Article Back to Top
Elsewhere Ltd 11.29.08
Malcolm Holcombe Gamblin' House PDF Article Back to Top
Progressive Broadcasting Service 11.25.08
Malcolm Holcombe Gamblin' House PDF Article Back to Top
BBC Country 11.14.08
BBC Country Review by Michael Quinn 14 November 2008 PDF Article Back to Top
Spartanburg Herald-Journal - 08.14.08
Spartanburg Herald-Journal By DAVID SISTARE Thursday, August 14, 2008 This weekend, The Showroom at Hub-Bub welcomes the internationally known musician Malcolm Holcombe to Spartanburg. Rolling Stone described Holcombe as "not quite country, somewhere beyond folk." He's got his own opinion though, using criteria of his own. Hailing from the Blue Ridge mountains of North Carolina, Holcombe released a 12-song album, "Gamblin' House," in January that received very positive reviews from the likes of Billboard and Harp magazines. The Herald-Journal spoke with Holcombe about topics ranging from his opinion of the state of folk music today to what he thinks about performing in Spartanburg (hint: he loves it) and everything in between. Question: What got you into making music? Malcolm Holcombe: What got you into writing? You found a pen and a piece of paper. I needed a job, and wanted to form my own opinion. Put my own take on this thing. Q: What do you consider your musical style to be? MH: Folk's got fewer syllables, so I'll go with that. Q: What do you think of the idea that country has swallowed up folk? MH: Music is just like people; it's an osmosis. We all live and learn; it all kind of blends in together, hopefully for the good, to teach to live and learn. Country music is swallowing everything they can to make a red hot nickel. They're just trying to sell records and make money. Q: How has folk changed since you got started? MH: Evolution. People seem to be incorporating some old traditional instruments, which is cool: fiddle, violin. As far as subject matter, it's just the same old story; history repeats itself. It's about the land and the times. I just try to scratch out some tunes. I think people are still thirsty for something real. Q: What inspires your song-writing? MH: Reality, man, reality. From my quiet perspective, muster up opinions and a point of view. We're not all that different, from Germany to South Carolina. "Call a spade a spade?" I want to see the spade for myself. I want to touch it and consume it, THEN I'll tell you a spade's a spade. Q: What do you listen to? MH: Little bit of everything. Charlie Parker, Isaac Hayes, those kind of guys. Q: What do you think of rap? MH: Just like any other kind. People can fall into stereotypes. They're told this and they're told that; they read this and that. People start getting these preconceived notions. We learn a lot growing up. I think there's some great rap music, just like folk. You got people whose topics are not my cup of tea, some of their language isn't what I would use, but you get that in all kinds of music. Q: Are there any noticeable differences between audiences in the Carolinas and other places you've performed? MH: No. I've been fortunate to do a bit of traveling these days. Whether they eat potatoes or spaghetti, we're all children of God. There's a couple I wonder about, though. This is my home in this area, you talk about Southern hospitality. Germany, Italy, Northern California, people got manners and they've been good to me for a long time. Q: How do you like performing in Spartanburg? MH: One of my favorite towns to play in. I've been down in different venues in the area, from the Nu Way Lounge to some little concert venues. Q: What would you say to young musicians who have the same goals and mindset that you did? MH: Try to have fun with it. Enjoy yourself and don't let it beat you up. Share your knowledge with everybody you can. You'll see the same people on the way up you will on the way down. Back to Top
Mobile Press-Register - 07.31.08
Mobile Press-Register Thursday, July 31, 2008 By LAWRENCE SPECKER Entertainment Reporter Holcombe to play Pirate's Cove, Callaghan's As he wrapped up a recent show at Callaghan's Irish Social Club, Justin Townes Earle took note of the fact that Malcolm Holcombe would be playing at the same venue a few weeks later. He didn't just urge those present to return for Holcombe's show. In blunt terms, he questioned the manhood of anybody who failed to do so. And in a more printable terms, he described Holcombe as the finest American songwriter currently breathing. Informed of this, Holcombe shuffled a bit for the right response, describing Earle as "a fine young scrapper." "That's awful kind of him. It's just a popularity contest, just a beauty contest, we brag on each other," Holcombe said. "I don't want to spit on his shoes unless I'm going to shine 'em." That's unlikely to happen, but this weekend listeners get the chance to decide for themselves whether Earle was on the money. Holcombe plays Pirate's Cove in Josephine on Saturday and then hits Callaghan's Irish Social Club on Sunday. It'll be his first stop at Callaghan's, while Pirate's Cove (where Alan Rhody will open) is a familiar tour stop that he describes as the home of "the best greasiest hamburger in the South." To both venues he brings his stock in trade: A gruff voice and an off-the-grid persona that has beguiled many a listener. He also bring a catalog of songs that tend to capture transcendental moments, good and bad, in the lives of people living hard lives. In his focus on the elusive moods of instants, he writes somewhat like Widespread Panic's John Bell — but with an altogether more down-to-earth focus. From the title track to his most recent album, "Gamblin' House": "i got my own kinda problems/my own kinda rules/ i got friends in my wallet/ they love me like a fool/ they love me like a fool" Critics stumble trying to categorize his music, citing country, blues and folk influences. He rates highly on the America charts, and said that if there must be a label, he'll take "folk." "I just call it folk music. It's got fewer syllables and it's easy to spell," he said, with evident self-deprecation. "It's another whiner with a damn guitar, that's got a ... opinion." On this tour, Holcombe said, he's doing songs from his three most recent albums — "Gamblin' House," "Not Forgotten" and "I Never Heard You Knockin'" — "And anything else that I can remember." His goals are simple, he said. He just hopes to get a few feet tapping and maybe "stir a brain-bone or two." Given his track record, and favorable reviews in every publication from No Depression magazine to the Wall Street Journal, it's a sure thing he'll accomplish both ambitions. For more information on Holcombe, including links to performance videos, visit www.malcolmholcombe.com. Back to Top
The Free Times - 07.09.08
The Free Times Wednesday, July 9 BY KEVIN OLIVER Mystic Man Malcolm Holcombe Café Strudel: Saturday, July 12 Malcolm Holcombe is one of those musicians who speaks his mind on whatever he's asked. The problem, however, is that his answers are usually cryptic at best. Like his songs, sometimes it's best to just enjoy them for the colorful commentary they are without attempting to read too much, or too little into them. An Asheville singer-songwriter whose craggy folk tunes have been compared to everyone from Tom Waits to Bill Morrissey, Holcombe is understandably wary of the business side of things. Malcolm Holcombe "I been fucked in the ass a few times, but haven't we all?", he says in response to a line of questioning about his ups and downs within the music industry. A profane bit of understatement, that, but at this resurgent point in his career he's content to let past label troubles lie and get on with the task at hand. This year, it's a new album, Gamblin' House, released in January. The song that has received the most attention on the new disc is "Goodtimes," a stream of consciousness, non-linear narrative that sounds like a hallucinatory dream cobbled together from Dylan, Springsteen and Faulkner. Various interviewers have attempted to coax its meaning from the song's author, but so far, Holcombe hasn't been very forthcoming about it. "Different songs mean different things to different people," Holcombe says in the way of non-explanation this time. "If you can tap your foot it's on the plus side, though I don't think that one's much of a foot-tapper." He's aware of his own peculiar tastes in music, however. "I was at this party 30 years ago, and they asked me to put some background music on," Holcombe says. "So I put on a Bob Dylan album." It is in that refusal to let himself be cornered on much of anything regarding his music that Holcombe is at his most obtuse, as further questioning reveals. He likens the process of codifying music into easily digested explanations to a geometric solution. "Shoeboxes or Pandora boxes, the world's full of boxes," Holcombe says. "We'll all fit into a box eventually, or be cremated, I guess." The only song on the new album that he has readily admitted the inspiration for, in fact, is "Cynthia Margaret," which is his wife's name. Even with that explanation, however, Holcombe is noncommittal. "The name just kind of fit into the tune," Holcombe says. "I've always liked names with more than one or two syllables, they roll off your tongue. It's a real pretty name that struck me as right for the song, and she's my soul mate, after all." A Malcolm Holcombe performance isn't the typical straitlaced folk venue kind of show, as he is rarely constrained by whatever chair, stool, or microphone setup is provided. Holcombe sings like a man familiar with his own demons, raising up from his chair, leaning toward a too-short microphone stand, and generally just choosing to exorcise his songs rather than simply sing them. Here, too, he has a simple yet inscrutable explanation. "Everybody's got their own little movements when they play," Holcombe says. "I'm just trying to keep rigor mortis at bay." Café Strudel is located at 118 State St. in West Columbia. Doors open at 8 p.m.; admission is $10. Call 794-6634 or visit cafestrudel.com for more information. Back to Top
Connect Savannah - 07.09.08
Connect Savannah JULY 9, 2008 BY JIM REED Prayin' in the Gamblin' House Malcolm Holcombe returns, with a new CD FOR FOLKS WHO APPRECIATE HEARTFELT EMOTION, understated, poetic lyricism and rough, unadorned, bluegrass-inflected country music that pulls no punches, Malcolm Holcombe is among the very best talents alive today. Raised in Weaverville, N.C., he’s lived a life others throw away nightly — one that’s taken him all the way from the competetive drag of Nashville showcases to a stint on Geffen Records (back when major labels still meant something positive for artists of his ilk), and back again to his humble, Appalachian roots. Malcolm Holcombe Long known as something of a “secret hero” among others in his profession —some much more famous and/or successful than he— over the past few years, a dogged touring schedule and increasingly steady stream of powerful independent albums have put him in front of more people worldwide than might have seemed possible a decade ago. Now, with his brand-new CD Gamblin’ House hitting the Top 10 on the U.S. Americana Music charts, Holcombe’s work seems to finally be receiving deserved adulation from an increasingly large and diverse audience. It’s always a joy to speak with this opinionated —but humble— student of his craft, because his gruff cadence contradicts his gentle nature, and his homspun analogies and aphorisms always seem to hint at well-reasoned, profound truths. I caught up with this unpretentious seer by phone at his rural home in advance of his highly anticipated repeat engagement at a local counterculture coffeehouse (where he’s one of the very few acts that can easily command a $10 cover). Have I caught you in the middle of anything? Malcolm Holcombe: I’m just sittin’ around. We’ve got a few friends over for the Fourth of July, and that’s real nice. ‘Cept there’s about a million flies in the house. I don’t know who invited them, ya know? Did you set off any fireworks? Malcolm Holcombe: Well, Jesse’s nine-and-a-half, so of course we had a few. Are fireworks legal in N.C.? Malcolm Holcombe: I don’t know. Maybe? We had a few friends run up and down the road and they grabbed some in Tn., along with another couple buddies that absconded with some out of state doo-dads... Sorry we’re starting this interview a bit late, but my old van was giving me trouble. Malcolm Holcombe: I know how that is, man. I’ve sunk a lot of money into a Jeep Grand Cherokee. It’s got 188,000 miles on it! (laughs) Yeah, well, it’s just that I’m not mechanically inclined at all. I couldn’t fix this thing if my life depended on it. Malcolm Holcombe: That’s alright there, Jim. Everybody’s good at something. To those of us who are just observers of your art, it seems you’re experiencing something of a resurgence of interest in your music of late. Does it feel that way to you? Malcolm Holcombe: A resurgence of interest? Yeah. It seems like you’ve had a more steady output of records for the past few years and I hear your name here and there more often. Do you get the feeling more people are interested in what you’re up to these days? Malcolm Holcombe: Ya hang around the barbershop long enough, you’re gonna get a haircut. How does that work for you? (laughs) (Laughs) Well, I can certainly appreciate that. Speaking of haircuts, when’s the last time you had one? Malcolm Holcombe: Well, that’s been a long time. It’s been a long time. I remember it was 75 cents, and then a dollar and then a dollar and a quarter when I was growing up in Weaverville. They charge you more now because people have gotta look at magazines and hair like Mr. and Mrs. Jones, you know?” You mean a hairstyle as opposed to a haircut? Malcolm Holcombe: Yep. It used to be a haircut and now it’s a hairstyle! I’ve got other things on my mind. Besides, of course, you can always catch up on some good gossip in the chair. That same barbershop’s still there in Weaverville. I haven’t been there in a while, but it’s still open on Main Street. I remember being about seven, eight or nine years old with all these old guys sitting there smoking cigarettes. A boy couldn’t hardly breathe in there. What’s the biggest difference between the way you live your life today as say, ten years ago? Malcolm Holcombe: Well, I got a beautiful family. And, uh, thanks to fans and friends and the grace of the good Lord, I can do some travelling and see some beautiful people and the country and be of service to my fellow man. That’s what I’m tryin’ to be available for. That’s why I’m talkin’ to you again, and thanks for workin’ this one. You’ve always been real kind and a lot of other folks, too. That keeps me and my family with food in our bellies and a roof on our back. You can probably hear me typing frantically as we talk. Malcolm Holcombe: Hell, you’re typin’ like a scalded dog! (laughs) You tour mostly as a solo act, but lately, you’ve been making records with additional musicians or sometimes a full-band. Is it hard for you to shift into that mode of working when you go in the studio? Malcolm Holcombe: Naw. Shucks no. I was really grateful to be able to use the same band for this new one Gamblin’ House and for the one before, Wager. The bass player, David Roe Rorick, I’d never met him, but we had mutual friends. He’s a pro and a real honest fellow. And gifted. I’ve known (producer) Ray (Kennedy) a long time, and (multi-instrumentalist) Ed Snodderly. So we just got together and said we’ll start it like this and end it like this and have some fun in the middle. (laughs) Yeah, its very humbling to be able to put out another record. We’ve had a lot of support from friends to make it all happen. Well, these days, I’d say that’s what it takes. Malcolm Holcombe: We were just talkin’ about Bill Monroe and listening to a lot of old 78s. You know, whether it’s country or bluegrass or whatever you might call it, a lot of folks opened up doors before we ever got in the vans. From the Martha White bus to the old station wagon to the ‘62 or maybe ‘63 Ford 289 rust bucket. How we get around. We gotta get around some way or another. “I’ll Change Your Flat Tire, Merle” — who did that?” Is that a song? Malcolm Holcombe: Yeah! You never heard that one? No, I don’t believe so, but it sounds great. You and your contemporaries on the modern roots-songwriter scene are certainly carrying on a tradition that’s been around for decades. Malcolm Holcombe: Yeah, we were just talking about a dear friend for pushin’ on 30 years. Talkin’ with him about a young crop of kids that are just pickin’ up one side and down the other. And with soul, not just notes! They’ve got soul and movement to ‘em, some of these young folk, from all over the country. I heard about these three young kids, The Tuttles. They got that cross-pickin’ on the mandolin and acoustic guitar and that lonesome sound that’s kind of bred into your bones. Just like the gospel bands that carry on and keep them old songs floatin’ around. When I’ve seen you play live, you remind me a lot of John Lee Hooker. Malcolm Holcombe: Uh-huh? In that you have your own internal sense of rhythm that makes perfect sense when you’re the only guy onstage, but I imagine could be very difficult for other players to follow — or for you to bend to a common meter or tempo. What sort of effort does that require on your part or theirs to serve the songs best? Malcolm Holcombe: Well, I just try to pay attention, you know? I try to look at least with one eye on land and head for some direction with the other. Tell me a bit about this new label that’s behind you. They’re based nearby your home? Malcolm Holcombe: Yeah, they’re based in Asheville. They’re called Echo Mountain records, and they’re an indie, fledgling label. They’ve been very supportive, and I’ve been grateful to work with them. They’re working very hard over there. I’m especially grateful for the artistic control and freedom that was given to Ray Kennedy and Myself. It was very welcomed and appreciated to be working with Ray and to be able to keep the breath off our necks. (laughs) Yes. So, there wasn’t anybody breathin’ down our necks but each other! I know you’ve run into some debilitating trouble with the music biz in the past. Does this feel like a comfortable label situation so far? Malcolm Holcombe: Well, you know, we’ve all got levels of comfort and that’s directly related to our degree of spirituality. So, there you go. What sort of goals or hopes does this label have for your career, and how much of a role are they looking to play in making those things happen? Malcolm Holcombe: Well, I can’t second-guess anybody that I know or work with. That’s some thing. How long did it take to actually make this new album? Malcolm Holcombe: About five or six days. We had enough songs to do an EP called Wager, and then the new LP Gamblin’ House. We hunkered down and did them both at the same time. Did you decide which songs would be used for the EP ahead of time, or only after you had a chance to listen to the totality of the work you’d done? Malcolm Holcombe: After we got all the songs together and listened to ‘em, me and Ray and my wife all sat down and drew names out of the hat. You know, to make sure our heads were bigger than the hat. I’m curious about the packaging for the new album. Did you draw the cover? Malcolm Holcombe: No, goodness no! I had a fractured idea, and I called a buddy of mine who’s an architect and a blues player. I ran it by him and said, see if you can scratch this out. I was glad he was able to do it. Is there a constant conceptual theme that runs through Gamblin’ House? Malcolm Holcombe: Well, you know these have been difficult times the world over, and in our country and in every other country there are crosses to bear, you know? So, it’s been on many hearts and many minds, from soldiers to children to parents, grandparents and great-grandparents. Every generation has a responsibility and an accountability to their God and their family and fellow man. So there’s just a lot of points that have surfaced in these last few years that needed my attention, and that I felt I was obligated to contribute my opinion and thoughts on. Hopefully they’ll help reflect what’s on the minds and in the hearts of people in America and throughout the world. Now, whether that’s achieved or not, I don’t know. That’s not my job to make such a call. That’s what I learned a long time ago in Nashville — they told me, “If you sling enough bologna up against the wall, some of it’s gonna stick. Where did the idea come from for the drawing inside the CD that folds out into a poster? Malcolm Holcombe: I’m not too handy with a pencil, but I had this idea for the poster —which is also the artwork on the CD itself— and so I kinda sketched out a little “caveman drawing” and then Ray Kennedy’s mentioned his wife was good with a pen, so I let her take a stab at it. She made it come to life. She made it her own. Her name’s Siobhan, which is Irish. Ray’s wife really put a trip on that man, and she nailed it! Do you have a favorite track on the record or is there a particular tune you see as the focal point of the album? Malcolm Holcombe: “Gamblin’ House.” There’s a couple of ‘em I like good, but I don’t know, Jim. Songs are songs and kids are kids, man, and you get into this muse thing... Well, I think that’s bullshit! I mean, that’s my opinion. I got no problem with anybody else, right or wrong. I’m curious as to your songwriting process. I’m sure each song may come to you in its own unique way, but I wonder if you ever have a topic or a tale or a thought in mind that you want to express in song, and so you actually try to write a lyric that will somehow get across an existing idea, or if it’s more common that you simply write a song, and only later perhaps come to understand what it means to you. Malcolm Holcombe: Well, you know, if you wanna get a haircut, or you think you need a haircut, you gotta walk into the barbershop! You stand out in the middle of the street, you’ll get run over. So, what’s that old saying? The lazy foot gathers no moss? Or corns. Yeah, man, I gotta cut my corns. You ever had corns? No, I don’t believe so. Is that like a bunion? Malcolm Holcombe: Sorta, but it’s deep-rooted in your foot. You need a damn mouse to pull it out. You gotta dig down there to get to it. So, if you think you need a sing that needs writin’, you gotta sit down and put a pen in your hand and grab it. Go ahead, change a tire and get to work! Have you ever gone through extended periods where the songs just wouldn’t come? Malcolm Holcombe: Nah. Like I said, you gotta be willin’ to show up. Either get behind the wheel or stick your thumb out. Put a pencil in your hand, or maybe you got a good memory. Somthin’ that rattles your ribs with a butter knife or somethin’ that really sings in your heart. That gestates in there. You know, hey man, you made it to work! Put another tire on, fix the engine, whatever you need to do. You play too, don’t you? How’s that band of yours doin’? Well, we’re actually about to out a new CD. Malcolm Holcombe: That’s great! We’re calling it our “country record”. It’s about as country as we get. We do a Mel Tillis song on there, though, so that’s pretty darn country. (laughs) Malcolm Holcombe: I always liked Mel Tillis. Lord, yeah! I can’t wait to hear it, man. You’ve played Savannah several times it the past, and usually at the Sentient Bean. Is that venue similar at all to the types of places you normally play, or is the size and the way it’s laid out kind of an exception to the rule? Malcolm Holcombe: Hey man, they got electricity. More importantly, some people show up! It’s a very pretty town and it’s one of our favorite places to play. In the past we’ve talked about some of your songwriting heroes and people you consider tops at their game. Are there any artists you’ve been enjoying listening to lately that you could recommend to folks? Malcolm Holcombe: Yeah, David Olney. I’ve been doing some shows with David. I’ve known him for pushin’ on 20 years. Man, he is hot as a fox. Pertinent. And he’s rockin; hard. He’s a wonderful player. Soulful, serious, slappin’ it, man! Ticklin’, slitherin’ and floatin’ and everything else. (laughs) Yeah, David’s a-slitherin’ and a-floatin’! We just celebrated Independence Day. Any thoughts on what that might mean to you or the rest of the country in this day and age? Malcolm Holcombe: Well, I tell you what. I voted for Obama. It’s time to shake things up and he’s gettin’ a lot of younger people out there to register. I think he has a purpose and soul very akin to JFK and Martin Luther King, and I really have faith and hope in this gentleman. I’ve got faith and hope and that’s what keeps us goin’, right? Family, friends and the universe. I just have a few more short questions. What’s the single biggest misconception you think people may have of you? Malcolm Holcombe: Ahhhh... There you go again! (laughs) I can’t second-guess people, you know. What’s the hardest part about being Malcolm Holcombe? Malcolm Holcombe: Well, it’s just a continuum to strengthen my spirituality and my relationship to God and my fellow man. I always gotta check my motives. What’s the best part about being Malcolm Holcombe? Malcolm Holcombe: I’ve been blessed. To be a spit in the ocean is very humbling, and to see smiles and laughter and have the fundamentals: a beautiful family and friends. We all have to separate the wheat from the chaff. It’s an ongoing, progressive lot in life. What: Malcombe Holcombe Where: The Sentient Bean When: 8 pm, Fri., July 11 Cost: $10 for ALL-AGES Info: malcolmholcombe.com, sentientbean.com Back to Top
Courier Mail (Australia) 06.20.08
Courier Mail Brisbane, Queensland Friday, June 20 PDF Article Back to Top
Go Triad - 06.19.08
Go Triad Off-beat wisdom finds its way into lyrics by Joe Scott June 19, 2008 One could spend an evening talking to folk singer Malcolm Holcombe and walk away with enough quotes from the conversation to fill a decent-sized coffee table book. "Everybody's got their cross to bear, and everybody needs the wood." "It takes what it takes to find out where the damned coffee pot is, don't it?" "The best place to be is in a position to help others." The singer-songwriter dropped these pearls of wisdom throughout a phone interview last week from his home near Asheville. A lot of the same off-beat wisdom can be found on Holcombe's newest album, "Gamblin' House," a collection of 12 rambling folk ditties released in January. Recorded in Asheville, the album is a pastiche of religious symbols, wild derelict rants and hard living in small towns. In many of his compositions, the gravel-voiced singer-songwriter's lyrics can be just as mysterious or colorful as his way of speaking. In the song "Goodtimes, " Holcombe growls: "Scratch a dirty beggar's back/Preach a burnin' paper sack/A comic strip salooner's breath/Stealin' from a loser's nest." Perhaps the one song with the most discernable lyrics is "Cynthia Margaret," an ode Holcombe wrote about his wife. "Pretty as a picture of the mountains that lie beneath the sky of a broken mind/and Cynthia Margaret is an angel o' mine." Despite the well-meaning beauty of his lyrics, Holcombe says his wife wasn't too thrilled with the serenade. "She works hard, but she's kind of shy," Holcombe says. "She's not a socialite." Holcombe has called the hills near Asheville his home for most of his life, but he attempted to ply his craft in Florida. "I stayed drunk, played some gigs, blew a bunch of money, and that's about it," Holcombe says. "It was kind of short-lived." After Florida, Holcombe later ventured north to Nashville, Tenn., to learn what he could about the music industry. Although he says he never intended to make it big, the experience caused him to rethink his intentions as an artist and consider what he hoped to accomplish musically. "This ain't no get-rich-quick scheme; it's a scheme, but it ain't get-rich-quick," Holcombe says. "Not to be overanalytical, but it's like when you get hit in the head with a frying pan. After so many knots in the head, you start reading the bumps, then you come up with little connect-the-dots, and sometimes there's a little ray of clarity that sifts through the smog." These days, to keep his ego in check, Holcombe views his work as a musician as more of a public service than as a means of commercial gain. "I'm better off spiritually if I look at it as a service," Holcombe says. "If I put my (expletive) in that kind of position, then maybe my mind is going to follow." Aside from music, Holcombe says he enjoys working in his garden. "I got some 'maters and corn, cucumbers and squash and some bell peppers," Holcombe says. "It's good to get your thumbs into the dirt." Joe Scott is a freelance contributor. Contact him at movieshowjoe@gmail.com. Back to Top
Lonesome Highway Magazine (Ireland) March 2008
Lonesome Highway Magazine Malcolm Holcombe PDF Article Back to Top
Tuscaloosa News - 03.27.08
Tuscaloosa News By Ben Windham Editorial Editor March 27, 2008 MALCOLM HOLCOMBE 'Gamblin' House' (Echo Mountain Records) 'Gamblin' House' offers a mental workout I don't know if Malcolm Holcombe of Weaverville, N.C., is related to the late Roscoe Holcombe of Daisy, Ky., but if he were I wouldn't be surprised. Malcolm is contemporary and Roscoe made his best recordings more than 50 years ago. But both of these Appalachian musicians are true-blue iconoclasts, about as far out of the country mainstream as they come. Roscoe Holcombe, who sang and played the banjo, had a voice as rough and craggy as the granite hills behind his barn. He took many a traditional song around the bend and some of them never made it back. On the other hand, Malcolm Holcombe's whiskey baritone sounds like the last few sips of white lightnin' in a Mason jar and a couple Camel unfiltereds. And unlike the older songster, Holcombe writes his own words and tunes. Mostly, his lyrics are elliptical. By themselves, they don't mean a whole lot. You have to hear the music to read much meaning into a song like 'Goodtimes' on his new CD, 'Gamblin' House,' on Echo Mountain Records: Vomit up sweet Charlottesville cider Closets full of thirsty liars Sweatshop petshop across the street Lovely, lovely pitiful feet ... But the music, delivered with a large side-order of grunts and mumbles, drives the song along like an old-timey hoedown. With references to cotton candy, hot dogs, picnic lunches and even 'Gone With the Wind,' it's a carnival of Southern imagery. Songs like 'The Shade,' however, are pretty literal. It's the best song about getting out of the sun I've ever heard. 'Evelyn' is another fine piece. It may be about sneaking that sweet, crazy taste of illicit love — I'm not really sure — but it's the only one-drop Appalachian reggae tune I've ever heard. And it works. There's some Dylanesque philosophy in 'Baby Likes a Love Song,' that proceeds from revealed wisdom to borderline banality. A much harder piece of romantic balladry is Holcombe's 'Cynthia Margaret' (what a great name!), which celebrates an earth angel: Crossroads backwoods gravel and time Pretty as a picture of the mountains that lie Beneath the sky of one broken mind ... I love this kind of off-kilter stuff. It may not be very commercial but it sure helps scrub out some of the mental plaque that builds up after too much exposure to the same old, same old. I also was going to write that Holcombe reminds me of Steve Earle without the politics, but then I looked at the poster folded inside the CD. It shows a grinning fox holding in his left hand a little black puppy over a bowl of dog food titled 'Malcolm Holcombe.' In his right hand, the fox holds the leash on a sharp-toothed dino-raptor. The White House is in the rear; on its dome is the logo 'Gamblin' House.'I think that's a pretty overt political statement. And you can read politics into some of Holcombe's lyrics, like: I chainsmoke and complain goin' for broke Your silly smile on TV stinks a country mile I'd rather have a home I can believe in I'd rather have a home I can call mine ... Yeah, I've seen that newscast. Back to Top
Austin Chronicle - 03.24.08
Austin Chronicle Music: March 14, 2008 Live Shots SXSW showcase reviews By Audra Schroeder http://www.austinchronicle.com/gyrobase/Issue/review?oid=oid%3A601953 Malcolm Holcombe Stephen F's Bar, Wednesday, March 12 Gamblin' House, the latest album from North Carolina guitarist Malcolm Holcombe, sounds like the blues. No doubt Holcombe's had them many times in his life: His voice is all gravel and sandpaper, and his appearance, that of a friendly drifter or war-scarred Southern uncle. And he's got stories, many miles of road, and that's part of his populist appeal. Alternating between sitting and standing hunched over the mic, Holcombe became the proverbial storyteller, making something as mundane as "Goin' Downtown" sound like the kind of story that gets told before a bar fight: "I gotta hundred dollar bill in Denver, Colorado. I got holes in my pockets, gonna buy an El Dorado." "Baby Likes a Love Song" and "The Shade" were sweeter fare, and his melodies were spare and seductive, but most of Gamblin' House rambles in protest songs, and Holcombe jerked and strummed, almost possessed, the way old blues musicians used to when they felt the spirit move them. Back to Top
Americanaroots - 03.04.08
Americanaroots Malcolm Holcombe - Gamblin House Written by John Walker Tuesday, 04 March 2008 Who is Malcolm Holcombe? During a recent interview with Justin Townes Earle, he mentioned Holcombe as one of today’s best songwriters. Holcombe is known for his rugged and rustic music, delivered with a rough gravely voice, heavily accentuated by his amazing acoustic guitar picking. Often compared with John Prine or Guy Clark, it is Holcombe’s intense style that captures you. He attacks the music with a force few can. Holcombe says, “If you are going to dig a ditch, dig a deep one. If you are going to shine a shoe, shine it good. If you are going to stand in front of a crowd with a guitar and play music, make it worth their while.” Linking up with acclaimed producer Ray Kennedy, Holcombe certainly delivers with his new CD entitled Gamblin’ House. Holcombe actually wrote 18 songs for this CD before selecting the best 12 to include. His simple lyrics flow with each song, but it is the passion in which they are delivered that brings it home. Holcombe’s guitar picking will remind many of Lightnin’ Hopkins, or the great Townes Van Zandt. He has the ability to squeeze those strings and make them sing. From the very beginning, with the first song titled “My Ol’ Radio,” Holcombe takes the listener on a memorable journey. He has his poignant moments, such as the moving song “Blue Flame” and “I’d Rather Have A Home,” and a touch of the blues with the grinding “Evelyn.” It is the passion which flows from “Baby Likes A Love Song” and “You Don’t Come See Me Anymore” that allows Holcombe to shine at his best. Accompanied by his mesmerizing acoustic guitar, Holcombe can captivate you with his portrayal of loneliness, clearly painting a sad picture to share with the listener.Gamblin’ House is a good CD for those that love the art of a guitar master. Holcombe does get great support from his band, which includes Kenny Malone on drums, Ed Snodderly on several string instruments, David Roe Rorick on base, Kirk “Jelly Roll” Johnson on harmonica, Chris Carmichael on ceilo and viola, and Siobhan Maher Kennedy providing background vocals. Back to Top
Austin Chronicle - 03.07.08
Austin Chronicle March 7, 2008 BY DOUG FREEMAN Malcolm Holcombe Gamblin' House (Echo Mountain) With the guttural causticity of an Appalachian bred Howlin' Wolf, "My Ol' Radio" and "Goodtimes" open Holcombe's sixth album moaning self-satisfaction like Austin's Scott H. Biram full up on chicken. "Goin' Downtown" and the title track grin with defiant self-destruction, the latter declaring, "I'm soakin' up the slaughter, I'm lyin' through my teeth, my calculated coffin, don't tell me what I need." Few songwriters can pen lines that provocative, much less bring them convincingly to life. And the Asheville, N.C.-based Holcombe just as easily encompasses the subtly beautiful (John Prine-esque "Baby Likes a Love Song") and devastatingly broken ("You Don't Come See Me Anymore"). Gamblin' House falters only in its production polish, which dilutes the singer's raw power. Still, cut along the same rough grain as Billy Joe Shaver and Guy Clark, Holcombe's no gamble. (Wednesday, March 12, Stephen F's Bar, 9pm.) Back to Top
Popmatters - 03.06.08
Popmatters (UK) 6 March 2008 Malcolm Holcombe Gamblin' House (Echo Mountain) US release date: 29 January 2008 UK release date: Available as import by Steve Horowitz The first thing one notices when listening to North Carolina native Malcolm Holcombe is his voice. To call it gruff is like calling the Empire State Building tall, or the Grand Canyon wide. The self-professed smoker sounds like he swallows unfiltered Camels whole and washes them down with cheap moonshine from a brown bottle. Holcombe may sonically appear to be as old as the hills, but generally has the concerns of a younger man. And the thing is, the Tar Heel singer’s coarse country vocals have a populist appeal. He sounds like the kind of guy one might swap stories with at a bar or barbershop, and smile a lot at the easy flow of conversation. The next thing one realizes is that Holcombe’s colorful language doesn’t always mean anything in particular. He writes catchy non sequiturs and tales that seem to take off into nonsense. “The closet’s full of thirsty liars / The sweatshop, pet shop across the street / Lovely, lovely pitiful Pete / Antique babies and goodtime gin,” Holcombe croaks on one song. It’s not clear what he’s talking about in “Goodtimes”, but it’s understood he’s having fun. “Living in the waters of a gamblin’ house,” he snorts on the title tune, yet it’s never clear how literally or metaphorically he means this. That’s not to say Holcombe always rambles. His love for his wife “Cynthia Margaret” comes across loud and clear even if the lyrics don’t always make sense. “Blown by the breeze of G-d’s only eye,” he cryptically sings about her. And there’s a powerful song protesting the current state of America, “I’d Rather Have a Home”, where he lambastes both President Bush (“Your silly smile on TV stinks a country mile”) and a nation where the poor have to fight our wars (“They pick and choose the needy to be brave”). When the seriousness of the topic merits, Holcombe makes sure he’s comprehensible. The third thing one discerns about the North Carolinian’s disc is just how appealing his melodies are. They’re either toe-tappers, or the kind of instrumentation that makes the listener hold one’s breath in wonder of what will happen next. The combination of Holcombe’s distinctive vocals, lively lyrics, and seductive tunes make this a formidable record, but … there is also something affected about this disc. We live in an age where regional differences have been smoothed out in our national culture; where breakfast, lunch and supper taste identical at the same chain restaurants across the nation; where country singers come from the city and urban rappers come from rural zip codes. Television, the Internet, and a million other diverse influences have made growing up anywhere in the United States the same basic experience. Holcombe makes a point of being different, of being authentic, and by all accounts he is the character he sings as. But we all are part of the mix. Holcombe proclaiming his rural roots isn’t much different, than to use a counter example, than President Bush calling himself a Texan. That doesn’t mean this isn’t an excellent record—it is—but don’t confuse this with reality. Holcombe is as much a construct as the next musician. His artifice is part of his art. Back to Top
NY Daily News - 03.04.08
Malcolm Holcombe's new album has harshness, wit and some pretty music Tuesday, March 4th 2008, 4:00 AM PDF Article Malcolm Holcombe has a voice so husky and grizzled, it makes Steve Earle sound like Julie Andrews. He growls, snarls, wheezes and, in one cut, even seems to cough up spittle. Need I say he sings the blues? Holcombe's latest CD, "Gamblin' House," once again matches his rusted voice to torn and frayed acoustic guitars, slippery slides and shaky dobros. It's Holcombe's return to a full band setup, after his last solo acoustic work. Just don't expect all that much elaboration. Basses dab, drums tap and guitars shudder vaguely in the background. Nothing gets in the way of the voice, and nothing should. In the title track, Holcombe exhales some notes with rapturous contempt. He curls around others with sarcastic cunning. Not every sound goes for something harsh. The ballad "You Don't Come See Me Anymore" has a caring melody you can sway to. In "Blue Flame," a gray cello lends an austere beauty, while a fiddle caresses and a banjo stitches something pretty around the tune. Here, Holcombe comes as close as he's going to get to a croon. Much of the rest is so extreme, it's no wonder he exaggerates some phrases enough to offer a wink of self-parody. On the one hand, when Holcombe calls out to a character called Evelyn in a song named after her, it brings to mind the power of Marlon Brando yelling to Stella in "Streetcar." But there's also a hint of self-aware wit amid the violence. It's the ability to call up that violence, of course, that makes Holcombe deep. Like a well-lined face, or a shaky body, his voice has experience and fear in it, an honesty that, by turns, cheers and chills. jfarber@nydailynews.com http://www.nydailynews.com/entertainment/music/2008/03/04/2008-03-04_malcolm_holcombes_new_album_has_harshnes.html Back to Top
Exile in Dunganville - Gaston Alive - February 2008
Spotlight on...Malcolm Holcombe "Gamblin' House" PDF Article Back to Top
Country Standard Time - 02.29.08
Malcolm Holcombe "Gamblin' House" PDF Article Back to Top
American Songwriter - March/April 2008
Malcolm Holcombe "Gamblin' House" PDF Article Back to Top
The Daily Times - 02.29.08
Holcombe kicks in the door of the 'Gamblin' House' By Steve Wildsmith of The Daily Times Staff steve.wildsmith@thedailytimes.com http://www.thedailytimes.com/article/20080229/ENT/224468534 Like a disheveled, wild-eyed hermit who calls a cave high up in the Smokies home, Malcolm Holcombe has emerged once again to impart some musical wisdom to the masses. This time, it’s in the form of his new album — “Gamblin’ House,” a record that showcases his signature style: growling, hissing, hollering and singing with a voice that lovers of Bob Dylan would swoon over and guitar-playing that alternates between a murderous choke-hold on the neck and a lover’s caress of the strings. This time around, Holcombe teamed up with noted producer Ray Kennedy (who, with fellow Americana maverick Steve Earle, once made up a production team known as the Twangtrust). With Kennedy’s help, Holcombe fills out the record with light touches of percussion, banjo and more. It’s one thing to describe the record, however, and it’s another thing entirely to ask Holcombe to describe the process. He’s a product of his environment — the mountains of Western North Carolina — and a conversation with him is filled with off-the-wall analogies, cryptic metaphors and a language that’s as foreign as it can be meandering. “I wanted to work with Ray — I’ve been biting at the bit to get in the saddle with him for a long time,” Holcombe told The Daily Times this week. “I got a whiff of the pot boiling over there at Echo Mountain (Studios), and I just went over there and we thought we’d just jump in the pot, you know? Just jump in and turn it up to a nice hot boil. We picked a couple of bones off the side of the road, put ’em in our noses and starting whooping and hollering in the pot. We had a lot of fun. “It was humbling and real spark-ified, you know? He’s just a very creative killdare. He let me go ahead and hold the bobby pin, and we just went ahead and put it in the wall socket, so we was able to share the jitters. I was very grateful to be able to collaborate with him. Even though he was a producer, I appreciate him lending an ear to some of the ideas that came up, and once that pot was a boiling, he helped me stir it up a little bit, chop up some meat and vegetables and, hopefully, make it a little palatable to the folks who lend an ear.” For those scratching their heads or re-reading the preceding paragraphs, know this — that’s just Holcombe. As he sings on the title track of “Gamblin’ House,” he’s got his own set of problems and his own kind of rules. Born in Asheville, N.C., and raised in nearby Weaverville, Holcombe learned to play the flat-top guitar and joined up with a folk group called The Hilltoppers. Playing fairs, dances and shows throughout the small town of Weaverville and thereabouts, he fed his spirit a steady diet of folk, traditional Appalachian ballads and bluegrass. In 1976, he drifted to Florida and, in 1990, Nashville, where he worked odd jobs and soaked up as much of the business side of the industry as possible before going back to North Carolina. He’s cut several albums over the years, including one for Geffen, “A Hundred Lies,” that earned a four-star review from Rolling Stone. He’s been compared to Bruce Springsteen for the way he paints vivid portraits with his songs, turning them into haunting, brooding, moving affairs. There’s an ache of loveliness and loneliness, of torment and hope, threaded through each of his songs. It’s the groan of weathered timber from an abandoned mountain cabin during a spring storm, the lonesome bark of a coyote on the other side of a ridge or the whine of a locomotive cutting through Appalachian valleys in the dark of night. It’s not easy, listening to his songs — there’s no clear message, no distinct narrative, that makes a Malcolm Holcombe song easy to follow. Likewise, his performances can be spiritual exorcisms — intense excoriations of the demons that haunt Holcombe’s soul. The payoff, however, is in listening and watching with care. One song’s meaning (“Cynthia Margaret,” for example, about his wife) will dawn clear as a new day, and the furious darkness of groans and foot-stomping and violent guitar strokes will give way to a languid, fluid style that transforms him into the kindly old man holding court on the porch of the corner store. “I didn’t come up with the ideas for this record by eatin’ too much ice cream,” he said. “The theme just kind of made itself. A lot of it’s about politics, about a country in trouble. Our country’s been in trouble for years and years, in my opinion, with this administration, and I think that it’s as plain as the nose on the American people’s faces. It’s time to shake up the White House, and I’m voting for Obama.” Suddenly, the homespun homilies and the quaint sayings seem to vanish. There’s a serious tone as he discusses the wave of change he feels is sweeping the nation, and he goes off on a tirade against President Bush. He speaks of his experiences touring Europe, and how Bush’s shadow falls on the face of every American. He speaks of his past and his future, and of the evolution — of man, of the land, of his music. And suddenly, just a quickly as he began, he falls back into that guarded, affable personality that can be mistaken by the untrained eye as that of a backwoods bumpkin with a guitar. Holcombe, however, is anything but — although it doesn’t bother him if that’s what you think. “We just had a lot of fun with this record,” he said. “I think we were trying to go for just as raw and back-porch pickin’ as we could, to just come up with something that’s real and raw and right in your face. “I think it sounds like a pretty good record for a crazy man. It’s all that reverb, I reckon.” Back to Top
Wall Street Journal - 02.14.08
A Hardscrabble Life in Music By JIM FUSILLI February 14, 2008; Page D7 Weaverville, N.C. http://online.wsj.com/article/SB120295185176066985.html?mod=weekend_leisure_banner_left PDF: Wall Street Journal The tidy, upscale strip that serves as downtown still looks enough like old Weaverville that the 52-year-old singer-songwriter Malcolm Holcombe can point to his childhood barbershop. The house his grandfather once owned still stands around the corner. But the area in and around nearby Asheville is awash in new construction, and the Sunnyside Café here no longer features live music and now serves a quiche of the day. In his battered ball cap, tatty work shirt and frayed jeans, Mr. Holcombe seems a visitor from the past. Mr. Holcombe's new album, "Gamblin' House" (Echo Mountain), his fifth that's still in print, largely tamps down his most arresting traits -- his whip-crack growl and almost violent attack on guitar -- and the songs aren't as poignant as his best ones of the past. But the CD's bittersweet, country-folk music with a raging man at its core reminds us there is no one on the contemporary scene like Mr. Holcombe, who somehow can convey raw fury and deep affection at the same time. His career, though, has had more stops than fruitful starts and still isn't equal to his talents. "I don't know if you'd call what I have a 'career,'" he told me over lunch at the Sunnyside, his voice coarsened by nonstop smoking. "I'm just trying to maintain." In publicity photos, Mr. Holcombe seems chiseled and iconic, but he's shorter than they suggest, with a hint of sadness around his pale blue eyes: He seems a gentle old soul with a hard shell. Years ago, a son died, and Mr. Holcombe has struggled with drugs and alcohol; a friend, "Gamblin' House" producer Ray Kennedy, figures he's been sober for about five years. I first saw Mr. Holcombe perform in late 2005 at Joe's Pub in New York. Dressed as if he came directly from a hard day at a gas station, he took the stage without an introduction and with the house lights up. The audience tittered in confusion -- until he began to perform. He was a revelation, his singing frighteningly fierce, lyrics startling, his playing brutal and delicate. But he told pointless stories between songs, blunting the impact of the performance, though not enough to dissuade me from thinking it was a remarkable show. (You can find examples of Mr. Holcombe's recent solo concerts on YouTube.) As we drove through the Blue Ridge Mountains and visited the Asheville studio where he recorded "Gamblin' House," I found his hospitality appealing, and his stories about his parents confirmed his fondness for the past. But his cryptic answers to questions often drifted to silence before they concluded; later, I learned he'd recycled some of his replies from earlier interviews. He's quite likely the most guarded musician I've ever spoken with. Mr. Kennedy said he's known Mr. Holcombe for 15 years and still finds him a puzzle. "Malcolm has some demons that he wrestles with," he told me. "Or they're in his imagination. His mission is to find balance and serenity. Heuses his art to try to salvage himself. Mr. Holcombe got his start in 1976, playing folk music in an Asheville bar. He moved on to Florida's Gulf Coast and in 1990 took a chance on Nashville. In Music City he tried to fit in, but "I couldn't do it. I couldn't get it," he said. Drinking and drugging drove him off track, but while "flipping burgers and taking out the trash," as he put it, he pulled himself together enough to record a couple of albums and eke out a meager living. Today, he considers hisardscrabble life a form of research. "You can't write about ice cream if you've never tasted it," he said. The breakthrough was "I Never Heard You Knockin'," the 2005 album he cut when he returned to Weaverville. Backed only by his guitar, Mr. Holcombe growls, yelps and reaches deep into his being. "My mind plays tricks in the silence/I mumble and stutter and wonder in the night," he sings in the title track, adding, "That big ol' front door had steel side to side/I never had a key." In "Mama Told Me So," his narrator contemplates his mother's inevitable passing. "Who's goin' love me when I'm old?" he asks as the song opens. "You're the only one who's ever loved me true and kind/I cover my ears to the pain of you leaving me behind." "Your mind whips through the past," he said when I asked how he wrote those remarkable songs. "Thoughts of your early childhood are very comforting. You think about Christmas morning or that birthday party, your mom holding your hand. You were protected and safe. Those early memories settle the dust. You were loved and things were OK." On "Gamblin' House," he hits the bull's-eye when his passion pushes past the prettified music. "Cynthia Margaret" is a lilting tribute to his wife, and You Don't Come See Me Anymore" is a tender tune that brings an on-edge Roger Miller to mind, as does "Baby Likes a Love Song." In the opening track, "My Ol' Radio," Mr. Holcombe sings: "That big dog gets hungry, he ain't never satisfied. . . . He's gonna eat himself to death and leave nothing for the rest." I thought it was a song about a pet, but Mr. Kennedy told me that it's Mr. Holcombe's take on national politics -- which the producer didn't know until his wife was hired to do illustrations for the CD package. It's a charming little number undermined by lyrics too vague to be enigmatic. "Malcolm doesn't have a commercial bone in his body," said Mr. Kennedy, who called him a "streetwise hillbilly." "He's into the art of it. You can't tell him to change the way he is. Once he writes a song, he doesn't like to change a single word." A singular character in an era that prizes conformity in country and pop, Mr. Holcombe may never find a wider audience. But to dismiss him as a backwoods eccentric is to miss the insight and pain that inform his best writing. His songs suggest he's spent countless hours rummaging through his thoughts. He communicates best when he's in the studio and on stage, where he just about explodes. "I like playing music," Mr. Holcombe told me. We were sitting in a vest-pocket park across from the Sunnyside, talking about Django Reinhardt and Lester Flatt as the afternoon shadows grew long. I asked him if he had a day job to help with the bills. "I work around the house," he said, "but as far as an income goes, yeah, it'smusic." Then he suddenly added: "The bottom can drop out any time. I can get a job mixing cement for 10 bucks an hour. That's good money." Mr. Fusilli is the Journal's rock and pop music critic. Back to Top
Go Tri Cities - 02.08.08
Go Tri-Cities February 8, 2008 Holcombe hedging bets on success of ‘Gamblin’ House’ By Jim McGuinness Album conveys singer’s feelings on war, love, greed A singer-songwriter’s life is a roll of the dice. Write the songs you feel in your heart, and then go out and play them in front of total strangers. Whether people will like you — or even show up to hear you — is anyone’s guess. The key is to keep returning to the table in hopes of gradually building an audience. Malcolm Holcombe has been laying his bets for years. One of the most engaging performers on the Americana circuit, Holcombe mesmerizes audiences with his intense stage demeanor and hardscrabble songs about the human condition. Bobbing back and forth in his chair and twitching his head from side to side, he’s a sight to behold onstage. While his lyrics are often cryptic, a sense of honesty emerges whenever the gravel-voiced troubadour launches into one of his rustic-sounding ditties. “I try my best to say what I know to be true in my own point-of-view,” Holcombe said. “I say and sing about what I feel. And if I shoot myself in the foot, at least it’s me pulling the trigger.” Holcombe does some of his straightest shooting yet on his new “Gamblin’ House” album. Released on the fledgling Echo Mountain label, the disc finds Holcombe croaking out 12 songs that convey his feelings about war, love, greed and humanity. Songs like “Goodtimes” and “Goin’ Downtown” are filled with the manic energy that has become Holcombe’s trademark, while the bittersweet “You Don’t Come See Me Anymore” and the atmospheric “Blue Flame” (imbued with cello and viola) are shining examples of his peculiar brand of hillbilly poetry. Holcombe’s songs often deliver a subtle knockout punch, with the back-porch sensibility of the music masking a grumpy streak that often materializes in his lyrics. An example is the album-opening “My Ol’ Radio” on which producer Ray Kennedy’s wife Siobhan adds background vocals. Easy-going in its arrangement, the song takes some swipes at big media with Holcombe declaring, “I don’t want to be spoon fed/I don’t need to be told/what I listen to on my radio.” Speaking over the phone from his home in the North Carolina hill country near Asheville, Holcombe points out that the song’s anti-radio lyrics have nothing to do with any lack of airplay on his part. “That’s not why I’m doing this stuff,” he said. “Any radio play I get is just residuals.” Musical backing is provided by longtime Holcombe cohorts Ed Snodderly (Dobro, mandolin, mandola, fiddle, banjo) and Jelly Roll Johnson (harmonica) along with a rhythm section of bassist David Roe Rorick and drummer Kenny Malone. The same foursome appeared on “Wager,” a five-song EP released in October. According to Holcombe, the original intention was for “Wager” to be a full-length album. When the recording went slower than anticipated, it was instead decided to release an EP. Only one song appears on both projects. “We got behind the eight-ball, time-wise,” Holcombe explained. “So we put out ‘Wager’ and decided to revisit the album project later. Everything on the EP was cut in the same week.” The artwork for the album humorously depicts Holcombe’s idea of a “Gamblin’ House.” Drawn by Siobhan Kennedy, it includes a poster in which a big dog is squeezing the neck of a little dog in front of the White House. In the drawing, the White House is labeled “Gamblin’ House” while the little dog’s dish has Holcombe’s name on it. “It’s the White House and the whole dog-eat-dog thing that we’ve heard all our lives,” Holcombe explained. “Those people in Washington are gambling with people’s lives.” Will “Gamblin’ House” help Holcombe reach a larger audience? The singer-songwriter figures if he keeps plugging away, it’s bound to happen. “If you hang around the barber shop long enough, you’re gonna get clipped,” he said. “But that depends on which barber shop you go to and how much hair you’ve got on your head when you get there.” Back to Top
Pasadena Weekly - 02.07.08
Pasadena Weekly February 7, 2008 by Bliss MALCOLM HOLCOMBE, Gamblin’ House (Echo Mountain): More deeply talented than his limited renown might suggest, Holcombe’s a growling Southern poet of song original enough to be lauded by national press outlets and songwriters’ songwriters like Lucinda Williams, and eccentric enough to essentially operate in his own zip code. Listeners willing to suspend dependence on linear logic in favor of a gritty stream-of-consciousness style that channels and elicits more visceral emotions will find much to savor in Holcombe’s bluesy/folky melodies and instrumentation, poetic allusions (“That big dog gets hungry he ain’t never satisfied/ Scratchin’ in my ear and howlin’ in my mind”) and throwaway pearls (“I got friends in my wallet/ They love me like a fool”). If “Gamblin’ House” doesn’t quite scale the brilliant heights of 1999’s “A Hundred Lies” (one of the best singer-songwriter releases of the ’90s), it also spends less time trolling through darkness and sparkles with a bit more hope. www.malcolmholcombe.com Back to Top
The Daily News In Tune - 02.07.08
Malcolm Holcombe "Gamblin' House" PDF Article Back to Top
Studio City Sun - February 2008
Studio City Sun by Bill Bentley Malcolm Holcombe Gamblin’ House (Echo Mountain) Sixteen years ago Rusty Kershaw released an album called Now & Then on indie label Domino Records, and it sank faster than a soggy bucket of Popeye’s popcorn shrimp tossed into the Mississippi River at the end of Canal Street in New Orleans. Still, it was the kind of music that caused fevers among its fans, and should have spread like encephalitis during mosquito season in the South. Kershaw, the well-weathered brother of Cajun-country star Doug, had a take on life that had to be experienced to be understood. There hasn’t been anyone since even remotely like him—until now. Malcolm Holcombe sings as if he’s been sleeping outdoors a very long time, and battling spiders and snakes from the start. Nature’s wildness is woven into his music, as well as a heart full of love and head crammed with visions. This is dangerous territory, not for the faint-minded, and right about the time it seems like limits have been reached, Holcombe digs down deep and pulls out a song of such longing that t he sunshine slipping into the room keeps us from running for the hills. If Tom Waits and Top Jimmy are chasing each other around your brain like clanging gremlins from an ancient hangover, ask no questions but proceed directly to the checkout line with a copy of Gamblin’ House in hand. Chuck E. will be waiting there happy to help, tap dancing behind the counter and smiling like tomorrow’s promise has thankfully arrived today. What a kick. Back to Top
Asheville Citizen-Times - 02.01.08
Asheville Citizen-Times Malcolm Holcombe showcases mountain roots at The Grey Eagle by Michael Flynn February 1, 2008 ASHEVILLE — In a region steeped in traditional music, local singer and songwriter Malcolm Holcombe remains a singular voice. Animated by gravel-strewn vocals and fluid string arrangements, Holcombe’s tales of life in these mountains linger well after the first listen. “Got my own kind of problems, and my own kind of rules,” he proclaims in the title cut from his new album, “Gamblin’ House.” Recorded in Asheville at Echo Mountain studios, the album hit stores this week. To celebrate, Holcombe plays The Grey Eagle on Feb. 1, with Justin Townes Earle opening. The son of Americana icon Steve Earle, Justin Earle’s first full-length national release drops in March. Holcombe isn’t interested in labeling his home-brewed blend of roots music, which he simply calls folk. “That’s got the fewest number of syllables,” he said. “That’s who we are — folks.” The authenticity of Holcombe’s sound has earned him longtime fans, as well as a spot on the three CD, 50-artist “Song of America” compilation released last fall. The Weaverville native, whose spoken words echo observations in his lyrics, shared some insights recently with take5. Question: You’re a native of these mountains — how is that reflected in your music? Answer: I try to relate to things you can sink your teeth into, and that’s personal experience. I try to impart not only the five senses that I’m able to grab a hold of, but I try not to get too far off the deep edge as far as writing about my feet on the moon and how it is, because I never been to the moon. If you want to talk about getting a haircut, you’ve got to sit in the barber chair. Q: What drew you to playing music for a living? A: No different than anybody else. Mom got me a guitar from Sears, and dad got me a guitar from a pawn shop. I got a Mel Bay chord book and just started noodling around and hanging out with the kids in the neighborhood and listening to records. Q: What inspires you as a songwriter? A: Despair, frustration and hope. Q: You’ve been part of the Asheville-area music scene for years — do you think this town will continue to nurture and attract good musicians? A: If they keep the gated communities out of here. It’s great to have new businesses and to have fresh blood and stuff like that, but the mountains are being whittled down. And the more they get whittled down, the less inspiration it gives to me. Q: You’ve done plenty of touring — what do like about playing in Asheville? A: I get to see some old friends … and I get to see some new friends. I appreciate all the support and love of family and friends right here in my hometown area. Q: Is the “Gamblin’ House” real or metaphorical? A: Well, you know, it’s kind of 50-50. You call it “gamblin’ house” and it gives unsavory characters legalese. Any way you want to twist and turn that nickel, it comes up plugged. Back to Top
About.com - January 2008
About.com Malcom Holcombe - Gamblin' House Rating four out of Five By Kim Ruehl Read any review about Malcom Holcombe's music, and you're sure to hear something about rugged, gritty vocals and old soul imagery. I wish I could tell you something other than that, but honestly, that's the best thing about Holcombe's work. His songs are the artistic equivalent of ripping off a bandaid: they kind of sting, but you know jumping into it fully is the best way to heal. Sad Folk-Blues and Love Songs Listening to Gamblin' House is like walking through a Georgia woods at night after a rain storm, spotting a light in a window somewhere above the treeline. It's the kind of folk-blues that walks away from you, beckoning you to follow. When he sings, "My baby likes a slow love song," the grit of his voice around those syllables piles on more meaning than the words are capable of pushing across. The distant fiddle on "Goin' Downtown" is not to be ignored. It may be overshadowed by Holcombe's growl and the swoop and groove of the Dobro, but it's the fiddle that holds down the hoedown. The Dobro gets its day, though, on the title track. It swings in and rips it against a reticent harmonica halfway through the song. This is also where Holcombe's lyrics are some of the strongest on the disc: "I got my own kinda problems / my own kinda rules," he sings. "I got friends in my wallet / they love me like a fool." Highlights The best song out of the bag is "You Don't Come See Me Anymore"—a tune that's part Bob Dylan, part Townes Van Zandt, part Greg Brown. You can't get a better amalgam of sounds and comparable songwriters than that, and Holcombe spews the honest, gritty heartbreak like few others. "My catchin' up is runnin' kinda slow / And you don't come see me anymore." Although there's a pervasive sadness echoing throughout all the songs, Holcombe's odes on his wife, "Cynthia Margaret" and "Baby Likes a Love Song," are two of the sweetest, most heart-felt love laden blues songs I've heard in some time. If there's a drawback to this CD, it's in the fact that it would be a perfect album if they'd kept it down to 10 tracks. While great songs, "Good Times" and "Blue Flame" aren't as stellar as every other effort on the disc. That's a small criticism, though. In just about any other context, those two tunes would be considered strong. It's only that they're in such superior company, that they don't measure up. Back to Top
Harp Magazine - Jan.Feb.08
Harp Magazine Jan/Feb 2008 CD Reviews By Andy Tennille Malcolm Holcombe Gamblin’ House Echo Mountain Most people think Appalachian Mountain music is all swing-your-partner-round-and-round, but bluegrass and country music are only elements of a musical tradition whose roots range from English broadsides to Irish sea shanties to African-American spirituals. Few artists today manage to corral those varied influences into a cohesive vision of modern Appalachian music. Then there’s Malcolm Holcombe, born and raised in Weaverville, the tiny hollow outside Asheville, North Carolina, where he wrote the 12 tracks for Gamblin’ House. Holcombe fuses sweet love songs (“Baby Likes A Love Song,” “Cynthia Margaret”) and back-porch pickers (“I’d Rather Have A Home,” “My Ol’ Radio”) with hillbilly blues (“Goodtimes”) and lonely ballads (“You Don’t Come See Me Anymore”) through a voice that sounds like Tom Waits gargling gravel. It’s an intoxicating blend, but one shouldn’t expect anything less from Catdaddy country. Back to Top
An Honest Tune - 01.26.08
An Honest Tune Malcolm Holcombe : Gamblin' House Written by Jamie Lee 01/26/2008 Malcolm Holcombe is a medium to another time, channeling the spirits of a small town in North Carolina with the stripped-down pretense that guides life in those little places; places where everyone knows everyone, and a well-written song is Saturday night’s only entertainment, save church on Sunday. Gamblin’ House is the veteran songwriter’s return to Weaverville, NC, just north of Asheville in the Blue Ridge Mountains, where simple lives aren’t easy and small towns are engrained with peculiarities. Espousing underrated pleasantries (“My Ol’ Radio”), reveling in the possibilities that come with a crisp $100 bill in pocket (“Goin’ Downtown”), and lamenting love's waiting game (“You Don’t Come and See Me Anymore”), Holcombe’s tone leaks emotion, despite his crush-and-run delivery. But just as the charms of this mountain world emerge with vigor, the landscape of the album often turns down dead end streets where “Blue Flame” barely flickers, and the sun burns bright, forcing Halcombe’s beer-can vocals on ice in “The Shade.” Malcolm Holcombe knows small town life; he has lived it. And his knowledge of the complexities that boil just underneath the easy-going facade shapes Gamblin’ House, fueled by stowaway urgency of his guitar and the chug of “Jelly Roll” Johnson’s harmonica. There is a little risk in this game, but hell, a quick hand or two never hurt. Gamblin’ House is out now on Echo Mountain Records. Back to Top
Houston Press - 01.24.08
Houston Press Malcolm Holcombe By William Michael Smith Published: January 24, 2008 Malcolm Holcombe's MySpace site is studded with fan comments like "your songs feed my soul," odd pronouncements indeed when addressed to a battered-spirit hillbilly poet who once had a reputation as an unpredictable, slightly dangerous performer. Yet after remarrying and shaking the demons of drugs and alcohol, today Holcombe is an enigmatic giant in the Nashville underground, a kindred spirit of other fringe writers like Cadillac Holmes, Tom House and Tony Arata. A nonlinear, highly idiosyncratic lyricist and former dishwasher at Music City songwriter haven Douglas Corner (the anti-Bluebird Café), the 52-year-old North Carolinian counts some of the most respected poets in a town full of 'em as ardent supporters. Holcombe has a natural talent for bending language into pretzels; his brilliant lyrics often hang by a thread between nonsense and enlightenment, but it's lines like "this town knows me lyin' on my face, broken gutters and cryin' in the rain" or "there's belonging in just longing for someone" that make other writers and fans recognize his singular gift. Coupled with a full year of constant touring, his new record Gambling House may be the document that finally lifts Holcombe above the national roots-music radar. And deservedly so. Back to Top
Fort Worth Weekly - 01.23.08
Fort Worth Weekly Malcolm Holcombe Gamblin’ House (Echo Mountain Records) By Tom Geddie Published: January 23, 2008 Malcolm Holcombe sounds like a hillbilly sort of Tom Waits as he delivers keeping-a-used-car-on-the road sort of greasy Appalachian-based folk-blues on his excellent new Gamblin’ House. With his kerosene-soaked voice, Holcombe is almost as compelling on CD as he is in performance, whether he’s declaring his independence, as on “(I Don’t Want To Be Spoonfed, Don’t Want To Be Told What I Listen To On) My Ol’ Radio,” or getting all existential with a track like “Baby Likes a Love Song,” in which he proclaims his love for such songs while acknowledging that “we ain’t made to live here forever” in a world where silence is a virtue. In the title song, his character bets on the blues and celebrates his musical winnings. Other characters have forgotten the words to “The Old Rugged Cross,” or miss the good women in life, or worry about the “steady and strong” angels who travel the crossroads and back roads. Holcombe doesn’t yet have, and, if we’re lucky may never have, the urban polish or sophistication that Waits has acquired, though the younger singer-songwriter has the same kind of talent with words. For Gamblin’ House, he teamed with famous Nashville producer and Grammy-winner Ray Kennedy, who brought in respected studio musicians (percussion, bass, dobro, fiddle, banjo) to add to Holcombe’s acoustic-guitar playing. The mix is crisp and clean, both contrasting and complementing Holcombe’s simple, old-soul poetry. Back to Top
Dallas Observer - 01.24.08
Malcolm Holcombe Is King of the Hills The North Carolina musician brings backwoods style to the forefront By Darryl Smyers Published: January 24, 2008 Malcolm Holcombe performs Friday, January 25, at AllGood Café. Along with his backwoods drawl and folksy demeanor, singer and guitarist Malcolm Holcombe displays an alarming and plainspoken intensity that mirrors his passionate songs and performances. "It's a fucked-up America," Holcombe says. "I just try and put songs together that I think are befitting our time of crisis." Driving through Georgia on his way to a tour stop in Florida, Holcombe is accompanied by wife Cyndi and is out promoting Gamblin' House, his seventh effort. Often compared to John Prine and Tom Waits, Holcombe's songwriting has the offhanded wisdom of the former while his guitar-playing definitely leans toward the wild exuberance of the latter. Like his previous releases, House uses acoustic blues and folk as the backdrop for Holcombe's uncommon vocal style. Like a deranged evangelist, Holcombe howls and yelps his way through his songs, carrying on in a gospel manner that appears exhausting. "It's this [Bush] administration that's wearing me out," Holcombe says with a laugh. "Honestly, where I was raised, you better have a fucking idea what you're talking about when it comes to church and things related to gospel." New songs such as "You Don't Come See Me Anymore" and "The Shade" reflect the spirituality ingrained in the North Carolina surroundings where Holcombe grew up, the place he still calls home. Featuring a talented backing band and aided by producer Ray Kennedy (Steve Earle, Ray Davies), Gamblin' House is definitely the highpoint of Holcombe's career, an effort rooted in Appalachian traditions, but one that fearlessly goes in directions only Holcombe can take it. One of these directions is the melding of the personal and the political. Holcombe's songs tell of romantic disillusionment cast against the uneasy nature of this post-9/11 world. "I'm praying for a home I can believe in/I'm praying for a home I can call mine," Holcombe sings in "I'd Rather Have a Home," a song that can be read as an allegory of a broken relationship or a country gone astray. "Bush has alienated the whole world," says Holcombe, who professes a liking for Barack Obama in the upcoming election. "[Obama]'s like Kennedy and Martin Luther King all in one." When he's not talking politics, Holcombe's wife of five years is the topic of choice. "She's my soul mate and the brains of this operation," he says. Cyndi helped pick out the tracks for the new album and is his only companion on this tour. "I just can't really afford a band," says Holcombe. "Man, I'm just trying to make a living." Back to Top
Puremusic #83 - January 2008
GAMBLIN' HOUSE • Malcolm Holcombe Frank Goodman For those that were there, it's difficult not to draw comparisons between the singer songwriters of recent times and those of the folk boom of the '60s and the pop success of the singer songwriters in the '70s. It's just too easy (but it's too depressing) to say "where are the Leonard Cohens, the Joni Mitchells, the Bob Dylans, the James Taylors, the Phil Ochs', the Gordon Lightfoots?" When you play that game in reverse, and say "yeah, but looking back there was nobody like so-and-so back then", hopefully many of us can think of someone to fill in the blank with. The first name that comes to mind for me is Malcolm Holcombe. He's an original--ain't nobody walking in his shadow, and he ain't walking in anyone else's. He's got something that cannot be faked; call it energy, call it soul power. It's primal, it's primordial, it's as old as the Blue Ridge mountains, from whence he comes. Just his spin on the acoustic guitar alone separates him from the pack immediately. That box is at his command at every instant, and he's pulling and slapping the crap out of that thing like it was a beast he was riding into hell. And that's just his right hand. With his left, he seems to be squeezing the strings harder than everyone else wringing the tone out of the strings like they were bleeding. It's like he's demanding his guitar to keep up with his singing, which is coming from the rich, deep dark center of this complicated man. In fact, my favorite sound that he makes is his breathing at the end of and between words--it's the essence of this fire breathing force of nature. Malcolm's first CD on Echo Mountain Records, Gamblin' House, grabs you the way only he can, right at the top and doesn't let go until he's done singing. It's got all the spit and vinegar, all the heart and soul of a Malcolm record. Producer Ray Kennedy did his masterful best, perhaps the best that's ever been done, of presenting Malcolm Holcombe in all his raw glory. David Roe Rorick on bass and Kenny Malone on drums and percussion, everybody knows it doesn't get any better than that. Ed Snodderly from Johnson City, TN, on dobro (an instrument Malcolm has always been partial to) banjo and fiddle was a joy. One of the great lyricists of folk today, and its most heart-stopping troubadour. Get it. • Frank Goodman Back to Top
Stereo Subversion - January 2008
Malcolm Holcombe - Gamblin' House Echo Mountain www.myspace.com/malcolmholcombe Album Rating: 7.5 / 10 Malcolm Holcombe possesses the credentials and (probably) life experiences which add up to crudely punch in notions of artificial stylings via the Tom Waits proxy. Vocally and instrument wise, he actually resonates authentically from his Blue Ridge Mountain home. The man sings like he's in his seventies though he's probably in his late forties considering his photographs. Also his mannerisms careen crazily with grunts of maniacal focus. How does such a rough hewn individual sound in a pristine tidy studio environment? The punchy production simultaneously wraps Holcombe's music as ragged and smooth. Vocals are often upfront and rough while instrumentation usually shimmers. Gamblin' House sometimes sounds like a crossroads between modern country and creepy, creaky old time - like your great grandfather going on a drinking binge and rambling cryptically at that. Unfortunately, the album kicks off with a gamble and loses the bet with the grotesque mainstream flirtations of the tribute tune to personal happiness via mass communication, "My Ol' Radio." Overproduction mars while boring, homey snapshots can induce grimacing. What truly nails this song in the coffin is the horrible chorus, heavy on smooth female vocals. Obviously, the song serves as a commercial stab at radio which has nauseating side effects. Someone should know better, but do not let this miss step stop you from reaching the rich subtle mountain views of this album. Serpentine in nature, "Goodtimes" finds Holcombe singing about hotdog popcorn and Gone with the Wind lyrical concerns mating with weird, sexual grunting. The combination creates an awkwardness that makes one listen while reaching for another glass of bourbon. Harmonica seems to be flying around everywhere with drunken energy though hitting all the right notes. With his throat full of slimy spit, Holcombe takes the meaning of singing good times to bizarre luridness. Holcombe's attitude and style make you imagine dirty words and things. Dwarfing even Michael Hurley's eccentricity, "Goin Downtown" has some of the strangest vocal deliveries ever heard as one can't decide if Holcombe is angry or excited. He sings "I got a hundred dollar in Denver, Colorado, I got holes in my pocket/ I'm gonna buy an El Dorado." Holcombe then really gets to the song's gritty message. He's going downtown to see the Christmas lights! Inviting warm dobro tones create remarkable feelings of non corn pone sentiment. Like a tragic murder in bright, mountaintop moonlight, "Blue Flame" relates vivid imagery of crystal snow and a blue flame in a tiny hand. The supernatural, intense arrangement, especially the violin, creates a mysterious, death hungry soundscape. Holcombe often a great lyricist juxtaposes the strange with a song's beginning expectation. On the closing song "I'd Rather Have a Home" the lyric lead off goes: "You can catch more flies with honey/ but my mouth gets dry." With immediate impact, such words pull one in to figure out what the hell he's talking about. Texturally, the sound of the words are just as important when paired with his gruff scorched singing. Occasionally, Holcombe's songs are too honed in on the three minute mark and verse-chorus-verse formula, which is a shame for one gets the feeling Holcombe in a different setting really lets loose. One can also fault him for his mystical ability to sound grouchy and sentimental all at once. Overall, Malcom Holcombe conveys a warm down home feel even though he may sound loco at times. Gamblin' House brags a showcase of eccentric Appalachian blues peculiar to moonshine spiked with hot sauce. Matthew D. Proctor spends his days and nights living out the realities of Edvard Munch paintings. He resides in Stone Mountain, Georgia warding off despondent confederate soldiers. http://www.stereosubversion.com/album-reviews/malcolm-holcombe/ Back to Top
Billboard Magazine - January 2008
BILLBOARD MAGAZINE January 2008 Gamblin' House MALCOLM HOLCOMBE Producer: Ray Kennedy Genre: FOLK Few singer/songwriters hurl themselves into their music with the physical abandon that Malcolm Holcombe displays on his latest album. Beyond the gravel voice and high-intensity arrangements featuring his guitar, he moans, grunts, groans and smacks his lips, embellishing the brilliant songs of a mercurial spirit. Half the songs here sound like a train, whistling past your ears as Holcombe sings of slow love songs, flooded gambling emporiums, drunken madmen and, in "Cynthia Margaret," the solace of a long-sought soul mate. "My Old Radio" is a core tune for Americana formats; "You Don't Come to See Me Anymore" could be sung by vocalists from the Nashville he once fled. Rich in idiosyncratic epigrams with echoes ranging from Guy Clark to Bob Dylan, Holcombe (with "Jelly Roll" Johnson's ever-ready harmonica adding emphasis) delivers elusive tales of a life that may not have always been wisely lived, but was always worth writing about. —Wayne Robins Back to Top
Winston-Salem Journal - 12.13.07
Winston-Salem Journal Thursday, December 13, 2007 In My CD Player: Malcolm Holcombe - Ed Bumgardner The music of singer-songwriter Malcolm Holcombe is invariably described as either “brilliant” or an “acquired taste” - for many, the most alluring of descriptions. Consider that his most vocal champions include such mavericks as Steve Earle, Lucinda Williams and Shelby Lynne, and the depth of Holcombe’s talent comes into sharper focus. He is not a typical songwriter; he is more a poet - and a deeply challenging one, at that - who scrambles elements of folk, country and blues into a form of acoustic music that batters the fringes of convention. His music is stark, made more so by a voice, all gristly rasp and slurred words, that recalls Tom Waits. He and his music are odd, but more important, they are original, which makes any chance to see him an event. Holcombe will perform at 8 p.m. Friday at The Garage, and he sent relish five musical moments that define his musical approach. Soundtrack, Dr. Zhivago : “One of my mother’s favorite films. She also loved the music. We listened at home together.” The Rolling Stones, single, “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction”/“Get Off Of My Cloud” : “Rock ’n’ roll that got my blood rockin’. Raw and ‘in yo’ face.’ I could really relate to the lyrics.” Jim Croce, single, “Time In A Bottle”: “I became immersed in the guitar work and chord progressions of this song. Croce and (guitarist Maury) Muehleisen’s acoustic-guitar styles were influential. The lyrics were not.” “Tennessee” Ernie Ford, Songs Of Inspiration : “He had his own TV show with many talented and funny guests, but it’s his voice and personality that are unforgettable.” Pink Floyd, Dark Side Of The Moon : “This album always played in Caesar’s Parlor, the first saloon I got drunk in and hung out in day and night. It was escapism music … acidy, trippy, dark (stuff). Amazing musical passages, pouring out emotions that changed the odor, taste, effect and price of stale beer.” Back to Top
Creative Loafing (Charlotte) - 12.05.07
Music: Hit & Run Reviews Wager CD Review: Malcolm Holcombe BY GRANT BRITT Published 12.05.07 Creative Loafing The Deal: Roughing up John Prine, mountain man style. The Good: Malcolm Holcombe's voice is like a punch in the face. He sounds like the survivor of a fight between Prine and Tom Waits. There are only five cuts on the North Carolina native's latest, Wager, but that's enough. Holcombe is so intense that he packs more into that five-pack than most do in a career. Backed by a skeleton crew of guitar, banjo, fiddle and mandolin, Holcombe's theory of songwriting cuts through the crap. "Try not to put too many lines of bullshit in there," he says of his method. He says what he has to say and gets out pretty quickly. Most of his songs clock in around three minutes. Although they may be short, you're in for a pretty bumpy ride on most. "Going Back To Hell in a Greyhound" is a trip you wouldn't want to share with Holcombe as a seatmate – he'd be in your face the whole trip, spraying you with spittle as he ranted about his lost love, and his lost soul. "Sometimes I'm running and times that I ain't" Holcombe says, "but at the end of the day I feel like a train." Yeah, and when this engineer blows his whistle, buddy, you best get off his tracks. The Bad: At first listen, you may think Prine covered these tracks years go. Listen harder – that sound you hear is Holcombe breathing down Prine's neck. The Verdict: Reserve shelf space – you'll be hearing more from this guy for a long time to come. Back to Top
High County Press - 11.29.07
Keeping the Dice in Motion by David Brewer PDF Article Back to Top
Connect Savannah - 11.27.07
Connect Savannah November 27, 2007 by Jim Reed Malcolm Holcombe Appreciate the raw, unfiltered emotion of Townes Van Zandt or Skip Spence? Desperate to find an artist who reliably brings everything to bear when they step out on the stage? Curious to see what sort of player a Grammy-winning modern folk and alt.country icon like Lucinda Williams has cited as a personal hero? Straight-up one of the finest and most affecting singer-songwriters in the U.S. today, this hardscrabble, maniacally gifted guitarist and deeply personal lyricist from the N.C. mountains is criminally unknown to most. However, those who live for the kind of passionate, mesmerizing connections that can only be made between attentive audiences and piercing, otherworldly talents should make a beeline to this gig. Most everyone I’ve ever turned on to Malcolm has walked away a proselytizing convert — intent on spreading the gospel of this quiet man’s unique and irrepressible musical take on humanity. The rest? Well, some folks just can’t seem to receive even the most solid of senders. Still, you’d have to be wearing a tin-foil hat not to be touched resolutely and deeply by this artist’s unflinching intensity. “Sometimes on stage you get so deep into a song that you kinda dissolve away into the song itself,” Holcombe told me once — adding: “If I can roll around some thoughts between someone else’s ears, that’s all I can really hope for.” Jump into his fire, and get burned by (and for) the best. Fri., 8 pm, The Sentient Bean – ALL-AGES. Back to Top
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Nashville Scene - 10.18.07
Nashville Scene October 18, 2007 Our Critics Picks by Jack Silverman I don’t care if one too many writers’ nights has made you want to run every acoustic guitar in Davidson County through a woodchipper—you need to check out Malcolm Holcombe, who’ll show you what all those other hacks are trying (and failing) to do. What makes Holcombe great is that he’s not really trying to do anything—he’s just picking up a guitar and opening the floodgates of his battered soul. Because if he doesn’t, he’ll explode. When that gruff rattle of a voice spews forth over his barely contained fingerpicking, there’s no hesitation or self-consciousness—it’s like he’s in a trance, channeling all the untold thoughts and unrealized dreams dangling in the mist of some backwoods hollow. Holcombe’s got a strong new five-song EP, the Ray Kennedy-produced Wager, to hold fans over until January, when he releases the full-length Gamblin’ House. 9 p.m. at Douglas Corner —JACK SILVERMAN Back to Top
Uncut - November 2007
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Heaven Magazine - September/October 2007
God's Gift 'Rotten Grapevine' Malcolm Holcomibe PDF Article Back to Top
#58 - October 2007
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Country Music People - October 2007
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Crossroads - October 2007
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Oor Magazine - October 2007
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Acoustic - October 2007
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Classic Rock Society - September 2007
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Leo - 04.16.07
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The Irish Times - October 2007
FOUR STARS! MALCOLM HOLCOMBE Not Forgotten Munich Records Don't ask me how this man from South Carolina has managed to evade my attention to date, but, boy, am I going to make up for lost time. Holcombe has a voice that would give sandpaper a bad name, a face lined with the tracks of his 50-plus years, a guitar style that is by turns brutish and sensitive, and a heap of songs that resonate with honesty and passion. There is no sense of artifice. Every note counts, every line is meant, and his rumbling, crumbling baritone tosses and turns inside songs, squeezing every last spark from their smouldering fire. It's folk, folk-blues and country-blues whittled to a primitive essence via a stripped-down rhythm section coloured by banjo, lap steel, harmonica and Holcombe's own expressive acoustic guitar. Not Forgotten is powerful stuff, evocative and dramatic, but striking so many different moods that the end always comes too soon. www.malcolmholcombe.com JOE BREEN http://www.ireland.com/theticket/articles/2007/0914/1189076269104.html Back to Top
Savannah Now - 04.12.07
Savannah Now April 12, 2007 by Bill Dawers I don't use the word "genius" very often, but it just might apply to Malcolm Holcombe, who returns to Savannah for a solo gig at 8 p.m. Saturday at The Sentient Bean. At times gruff and direct, at times poetic bordering on mythical, Holcombe performs with an amazing completeness. All the sensual elements work together - his weathered appearance, his sometimes raspy voice, his lyrics that evoke the pain and joy of real lives. Holcombe may not be for everybody, but he certainly has developed a strong following locally over the years, and first-time listeners will immediately understand why. Back to Top
Leo - 04.16.07
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Clayton News-Star - 03.31.07
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Blue Ridge Outdoors Magazine - March 2007
Blue Ridge Outdoors Magazine March 2007 by David Stallard Our Hills Are Alive With the Sound of Music A Malcolm Holcombe performance is nothing short of mesmerizing. Back bowed towards an impossibly low microphone, sweaty wisps of long hair framing his face, Holcombe pulls melodies from his flattop guitar with his own style of percussive fingerpicking. It is Holcombe’s voice, though, that sets him apart from other singer/songwriters. His haunting, gravel-road rasp seems to flow from the very core of the Appalachian Mountains. But for a brief foray to Florida following the death of his parents, Holcombe has called the mountains near Asheville, N.C., home. He began playing guitar as a teenager and has been writing and singing songs for over 30 years. September found Holcombe celebrating his 51st birthday, and his talent continues to improve with age; 2006 saw the release of “Not Forgotten,” a startling collection of songs that chronicle the hardscrabble existence of life in the Appalachians. Holcombe’s reputation has extended far beyond the confines of his Western Carolina home. His work has been lauded by, among others, Rolling Stone and the Wall Street Journal, and Holcombe has shared the stage with such notables as Merle Haggard, Leon Russell, and Wilco. It is only fitting that Holcombe’s rootsy Americana has spread without the trappings of the Nashville music scene; his fiery independence is more akin to the spirit of the mountain folks whose stories he tells, than the corporate nature of Music City. Holcombe plays the Gravity Lounge in Charlottesville, Va., on March 7 and the Laurel Theatre in Knoxville, Tenn., on April 7. Back to Top
Sing Out! - Spring 2007
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Sing Out! - Winter 2007
Not Forgotten PDF Article Back to Top
High Country Press - 11.09.06
High Country Press November 9, 2006 by David Brewer Malcolm Holcombe Returns to Black Cat November 18 Born and raised in the Blue Ridge Mountains near Weaverville, NC, singer-songwriter Malcolm Holcombe has worked hard for decades developing a singular poetic sound that is almost instantly recognizable. Holcombe’s gritty, blue-collar sensibilities and stories set to country, folk, blues and rock explore dusty corners of the heart and mind in ways that enrapture listeners. On Saturday, November 18, Holcombe will return to the High Country for a solo performance at the intimate Black Cat Burrito. Released in April, Holcombe’s latest CD entitled Not Forgotten once again puts the singer’s gruff vocals first and foremost in the sonic field. Patient and unfussy arrangements of mostly acoustic instruments mingle alongside more urgent blues rock excursions, giving Holcombe’s voice and stories more varied settings in which to shine. Joining Holcombe on Not Forgotten are a small, tight combo of experienced players including Donna the Buffalo bassist Bill Reynolds, Dobro player Jared Tyler and former Boone resident Josh Day on drums. Lyrically, Holcombe continues to mystify and leave interpretation up to the listener. Rather than painting complete pictures, Holcombe howls and whispers his mountain poetry in short phrases that draw from personal experiences but are abstract enough to be applied to others. “A lot of it is autobiographical and just my take on life and the human condition,” said Holcombe. “I try my best to have thought, opinion and imagery of something that is real and honest.” Holcombe, who is recognized by the contemporary U.S and European folk/Americana community as a performer of national stature, views writing songs not only as his job, but also as a gift from the Lord. Applying a workman-like approach to his craft, Holcombe tempers his songs with his decades of experience on the road and a life spent toiling in a variety of jobs. “You throw enough mud against the wall and some of it will stick,” said Holcombe. “I don’t write songs for money. When something strikes a chord in your heart and spirit, you’ve got to do what we do which is write. When the moment presents itself, I try to be ready.” Touring all over the country, Holcombe has garnered enough critical praise to fill a suitcase or two. Publications including Rolling Stone, No Depression and the New York Daily News have showered him with praise for his graceful, ragged-but-right approach to music. Above all, Holcombe expresses his gratitude for simply having the God-given ability to create music and be in good enough health to make a living with his passion. “I’m just grateful to have two arms and two legs,” said Holcombe. “I may not be a rocket scientist, but I’ll go ahead and give it my best shot.” http://www.highcountrypress.com/weekly/2006/11-09-06/e_malcom.htm Back to Top
The Intelligencer - September 2006
Ramblin' Man PDF Article Back to Top
Press & Sun Bulletin - 10.15.06
Holcombe wears heart on sleeve in new CD By Chris Kocher ckocher@pressconnects.com Press & Sun-Bulletin PDF Article In the crowded forest of country-folk musicians, singer/songwriter Malcolm Holcombe is the craggy and gnarled oak that’s seen many harsh winters but continues to stand tall above the rest. The North Carolina native’s last album, “I Never Heard You Knockin’,” was stark in its simplicity — just him, his guitar and his terse but heartfelt stream-of-consciousness lyrics about mournful love, abiding faith and aching nostalgia. For his new self-released CD “Not Forgotten,” Holcombe has invited along some friends — including bass player Bill Reynolds, guitarist and dobro player Jared Tyler and drummer Josh Day — to fill out the album’s sound. But don’t think for a minute that Holcombe’s rougher edges have been smoothed out — if anything, his deep and ragged voice is brought to sharper relief. Album opener “Sparrows and Sparrows” finds Holcombe greeting the arrival of spring wondering how he can survive without a lost love: “Sparrows and sparrows and robins and robins / empty beer bottles and heartbroken arrows / dreams in dungeons ’bout children who love you / flowers in bloom and me without you.” Later, the tender “Your Eyes Will Shine” sounds like a love letter to a fading relationship, with Holcombe hoping and praying that it can return to former glory. Country-blues tracks such as “Yesterday’s Clothes” and “Room Eleven” capture the intensity of Holcombe’s live performances, complete with emphatic wailing and moaning as true and honest as the country hills where Holcombe was raised. The album’s title track, on the other hand, seems to be a quiet meditation on the fleeting nature of our lives: “We are many / as the stars / so few to linger / for so long / There are no tears / no sadness found / ’cause only love / can make a sound.” A sense of place and belonging runs through much of Holcombe’s music, and on this album, “Goin’ Home” (about an escape from the world’s troubles) and “This Ol’ House” (where “bitter winter nights” can’t penetrate) share Holcombe’s search for sanctuary. Having a band behind him allows Holcombe to work up some roadhouse passion on “Cryin’ Dime” (which features some nimble organ work by album co-producer Aaron Price) and “Baby Doll.” The riveting, almost dangerous juke-joint tunes harken back to the rowdier moments on Holcombe’s debut album, “A Hundred Lies,” which garnered national praise in the last millennium. With “Not Forgotten,” there’s little doubt that he still deserves it. Back to Top
The Morning Call - 10.14.06
The Morning Call Saturday October 14, 2006 by Geoff Gehman Malcolm Holcombe "Not Forgotten" Gypsy Eyes Music Malcolm Holcombe is a 51-year-old native of North Carolina's Blue Ridge Mountains with a voice like splintered barn siding, lyrics like bent arrows and a zigzag resume.He's opened for Richard Thompson, been called "a modern-day blues poet" by Lucinda Williams and contributed a number to "Song of America," an upcoming musical chronicle of American history. "Not Forgotten," his fifth recording, is a memorable ride on the rails of Americana, an intriguing imaginary conversation between a hobo and an engineer. Holcombe writes lived-in, dyed-in-the-wool tunes about a woman who will be blown back by rain "when the mornin' moans" and dead children who insist "there are no tears/No sadness found/'Cause only love/Can make a sound." Holcombe's voice- howlin', rattlin', mumblin', stranglin'- galvanizes stopming, darting bluegrass ("Baby Doll") and rocking blues with a chian-gang lash ("Yesterday's Clothes"). Genuinely sorrowful and joyful, without a shred of sentimentality, "Not Forgotten" embodies his go-for-broke philosophy: "If you're going to dig a hole, dig it deep. If you're going to smoke a cigarette, smoke it down to the filter." Back to Top
Savannah Connect - September 2006
Connect Recommends by Jim Reed PDF Article Back to Top
KnoxNews - 09.01.06
KnoxNews September 1, 2006 Music City Couldn't Break Songwriter's Spirit by Wayne Bledsoe PDF Article Part 1 PDF Article Part 2 http://www.knoxnews.com/kns/music/article/0,1406,KNS_349_4958888,00.html Back to Top
Daily Times - 09.01.06
The Daily Times 9/1/2007 Holcombe brings formidable presence, haunting songs to Writer's Block series By Steve Wildsmith of The Daily Times Staff The weather-beaten crags and valleys that line Malcolm Holcombe’s face are the stuff life is made of. From bar fights to lovers’ quarrels to fights with his own internal demons, Holcombe has scraped and clawed and dug his nails into the trunk of every tree along the way, sometimes stumbling through the dark in a panic, unable to find his North Star; other times, plodding methodically over every obstacle in his path, his eyes locked on the light burning bright in the distance. These days, more often than not, he stays focused on that light. With a sober heart and a clear head, it’s easier to see these days, but the walk through that metaphorical dark forest rarely gets any easier. “Some folks are quiet; some folks don’t like to talk a lot, and I guess I’m like that in a way,” Holcombe told The Daily Times this week . “I like to stay busy, to work on my music in the morning and at night. It’s discipline in a way, and I need that. It’s so easy for me to get caught up grabbing ahold of things in somebody else’s garden instead of just sitting still and watching the grass grow for just a second.” To those who don’t know him, Holcombe’s rural ramblings and country musings might seem nonsensical, but the old boy is sharper than you think. And when he gets to talking, you can take what he says to the bank, because Holcombe is nothing if not honest — sometimes, to the point of searing, painful honesty, whether he's talking about his own sordid past or the state of the world today. Like most true Southern gentleman, he's affable, quick with a folksy saying or a joke and sharp as a razor blade when he's discussing the things about which he knows best — the South (specifically, the hills of Western North Carolina) and music. Get him going, and he discusses those topics with the same intensity he brings to the stage. He's a poet and a philosopher all wrapped up in a rough-looking package, a man who's spilled more liquor that most college boys at his shows will ever even drink and pulled himself out of the trap of the bottle one precarious footstep at a time. “I never did write much drunk, and if I did, I couldn’t read what I wrote,” Holcombe. “With this album (“Not Forgotten,” released earlier this year), everything just kind of appeared. Of course, I can rationalize anything, but there seemed to be a common thread in there of people and family and friends. Maybe it’s just the way we’re nurtured in our early years, but I wanted to write about the grasp of the good stuff, the important stuff. “I wanted to write about the troubles of humanity, and trying to find a little silver lining in there; and I’m not talking about the lining of the wallet, or the silk-suit silver linings. I’m talking about turning your rags into blessings, and telling folks those things so they can take them with them.” Holcombe's measure of self-awareness is grounded in his humility. He's well aware of the journey he's taken to get to where he's at, but he doesn't spin war stories about his reckless days and doesn't glorify his dark ones. His songs are simply stories — his own or fictional tales that he pulls from a mental and emotional ether with all the aplomb of a Native American spirit guide. Those songs ride rough, like a Jeep trip down a dirt trail through the mountains in the spring — bouncing and dusty but full of otherworldly beauty with sun-dappled trees hanging overhead and the call of birds in the distance. Guided by his whiskey-scarred vocals that waver between a howl and a croon and acoustic guitar work that’s as haunting as the North Carolina hills he inhabits, those songs follow a similar path. On the surface, you may think you understand what he's talking (or singing) about, but you'll be pondering his words and their meaning long after his voice grows silent. Born in Asheville, N.C., and raised in North Carolina's Blue Ridge mountains, Holcombe learned to play the flat-top guitar and joined up with a folk group called The Hilltoppers. Playing fairs, dances and shows throughout the small town of Weaverville and thereabouts, he fed his spirit a steady diet of folk, traditional Appalachian ballads and bluegrass. In 1976, he drifted to Asheville, Florida and, in 1990, Nashville, where he worked odd jobs and soaked up as much of the business side of the industry as possible before going back to North Carolina. He's cut several albums over the years, including one for Geffen, “A Hundred Lies,” that earned a four-star review from Rolling Stone. He's been compared to Bruce Springsteen for the way he paints vivid portraits with his songs, turning them into haunting, brooding, moving affairs. There's an ache of loveliness and loneliness, of torment and hope, threaded through each of his songs. It's the groan of weathered timber from an abandoned mountain cabin during a spring storm, the lonesome bark of a coyote on the other side of a ridge or the whine of a locomotive cutting through Appalachian valleys in the dark of night. With “Not Forgotten,” he’s accepted his status as a folk independent outside the mainstream, and he actually thrives better there, despite the national accolades he received for “A Hundred Lies.” His albums have made their rounds — “I Never Heard You Knockin,’” released in 2005, was named one of the year’s best albums by both the Wall Street Journal and the New York Daily News — and he’s content to let the music carry his words to the masses, whether it’s through the ears and pens of critics or the folks who gather around a stage where he occasionally sets up shop. “I had a taste in my mouth for the big dogs, whether it be the Bush administration or Sony or Geffen, and that’s not my cup of tea anymore,” he said. “Having that sense of control, and being able to not worry about the robbery and thievery and skimming off the top and the middle and the bottom, I’m very grateful for it. Folks have been very kind in championing this ol’ boy beating on a guitar and stringing together some words.” IF YOU GO The Writer’s Block concert series featuring Malcolm Holcombe WHEN: 6:30 p.m. Wednesday WHERE: Knoxville Museum of Art, 1050 World’s Fair Park Drive, downtown Knoxville HOW MUCH: $7 CALL: 688-8521 ON THE WEB: www.malcolmholcombe.com, www.writersblockonline.com Back to Top
All the Rage - 07.21.06
All The Rage July 21, 2006 Event listing: Malcolm Holcombe at Douglas Corner Cafe, Nashville, TN Staff writer Even in a town full of artists and writers, we rarely get to see someone as passionate and powerful as respected Americana artist Holcombe. Rolling Stone's David Fricke has said, "Not quite country, somewhere beyond folk, Holcombe's music is a kind of blues in motion, mapping backwoods corners of the heart." Holcombe's brand new album Not Forgotten should give Fricke and any other music critics with ears even more reason to sound off. The album, recorded in Holcombe's home state of North Carolina, features contributions from members of Donna The Buffalo and a set of songs that reasserts his position as one of the heirs to the Townes Van Zandt throne. Back to Top
Nashville Scene - 07.20.06
Nashville Scene July 20, 2006 Critic's Pick by Jack Silverman MALCOLM HOLCOMBE "I can't figure out nuthin' / I can't figure out what to say," sings Malcolm Holcombe on his new CD Not Forgotten, but nothing could be further from the truth. The rare songwriter whose lyrics work as poetry as well as they do as songs, Holcombe uses words to paint images that are often abstract but always connect on an emotional level. Though he's got a hard-living reputation, he's been quite prolific the last few years, suggesting that he's mellowed a notch or two. Between his gut-stirring voice, eccentric guitar playing and stream-of-consciousness banter, he's always a spellbinding performer-his out-front persona has even been known to shock audience members used to a more, um, refined presentation. If one too many toothless in-the-rounds has turned you off to acoustic singer-songwriters, Holcombe's the man to renew your faith Back to Top
Buddy Magazine - July 2006
Buddy Magazine July 2006 Malcolm Holcombe "Not Forgotten" by Tom Geddie With his gravel-and-moonshine voice, Malcolm Holcombe delivers a new CD, Not Forgotten, that invokes many of the rural images conjured by his native Blue Ridge Mountains. Whether he is or osn't that rough-looking working man on the CD's cover, his folk-based songs can't help but reinforce the notion. Rolling Stone magazine said his music is where "haunted country, acoustic blues and ragged folk all meet." There is a gravity to his performances that evokes this kind of response, and there is plenty of common ground that encompasses all three of those genres. Holcombe grew up in what was then rural Weaverville, North Carolina, with go-carts, baseball, fishing holes. He spent some time in Florida after his parents died in his late teens and early 20's, tried Nashville for a while, and is now back in a place called Swannanoa, on the highway between Asheville and Black Mountain in North Carolina. Turning 50 years old in September, he's toured with Shelby Lynne and opened for Merle Haggard, Richard Thompson, John Hammond, Leon Russell, and Wilco. Grammy winner Ray Kennedy(who's worked with Steve Earle, Delbert McClinton, and many more), mastered Not Forgotten. Holcombe's acoustic guitar rings true. He's joined mostly by dobro, bass, and drums on most of the songs, organ and piano on a few. His raw, rural-voiced vocals almost overpower the songs more delicate words. The words about the human condition consistently play as true as sunlight and darkness. Back to Top
Bristol Herald Courier - 07.06.06
Bristol Herald Courier July 6, 2006 by Tom Netherland http://www.tricities.com/tristate/tri/entertainment/music.apx.-content-articles-TRI-2006-07-06-0019.html Back to Top
Kingsport Times News - 07.06.06
Kingsport Times News July 6. 2006 Conversing in 'Malcolmese' By Jim McGuinness Renowned troubadour speaks his mind, and sings his life PDF pg. 1 PDF pg. 2 Malcolm Holcombe can be evasive during an interview. It’s not that the Weaverville, N.C., native doesn’t like to talk. He just doesn’t like to talk about himself. But if you wait him out, you’re bound to be rewarded with tiny pearls of wisdom. Such is the case when listening to Holcombe’s songs — stark, rustic-sounding ditties, finger-picked from a flat-top guitar and sung in a gruff voice Holcombe himself calls “scary.” While his lyrics tend to be cryptic, the songs themselves speak volumes about the human condition. There’s nothing manufactured about Holcombe, an old-school troubadour whose folk-blues persona places him far outside the razzle-dazzle world of mainstream music. “I try to be as straight and real as I can, without any bells and whistles,” Holcombe says. “Today it’s a cookie-cutter cacophony. They get four or five people to write a song, and the song is way down on the bottom of the priority list. If people want to listen to some kind of trite stuff, that’s their business. I’m traveling down a different fork in the road.” That fork is a gathering place for the characters in Holcombe’s songs — desperate, well-meaning folks eager to do right, but who invariably make a wrong turn. But they never give up. They just dust themselves off and forge ahead. It’s a pattern Holcombe knows well. Down-and-out himself on several occasions, he’s become adept at bouncing back — and even better at writing about it. “It’s personal experiences,” he says softly. “I can’t write a song about a slow boat to China because I ain’t ever been in a boat heading for China.” Holcombe’s new album, “Not Forgotten,” marks the latest step in his evolution. Recorded at West Asheville’s Collapseable Studios, the disc is populated by tormented dreamers looking to make sense of their lives. Songs such as “Goin’ Home” and “Room Eleven” involve people beaten down by life’s hard knocks, while “A Steady Heart” and “Where is My Garden” contain the optimism that keeps them trudging along. Like last year’s brilliantly intimate “I Never Heard You Knockin,’” the new album was self-produced by Holcombe with engineering assistance by Aaron Price. But while its predecessor featured just Holcombe’s voice and acoustic guitar, “Not Forgotten” is fleshed out by additional instrumentation, with drums lending a rock ‘n’ roll feel to “Baby Doll,” “Cryin’ Dime” and “Yesterday’s Clothes.” “The orchestration of those tunes kinda embellish themselves,” Holcombe explains. “They needed something else.” Musical contributors include Price (B-3 organ), Jelly Roll Johnson (harmonica), Ed Snodderly (banjo), Jared Tyler (Dobro, lap steel) and Bill Reynolds (bass), along with drummers Josh Day and Brian Landrum. Recorded in four days, the disc has the unfussy feel of friends picking on a back porch. “We just did our job and had a lot of fun,” Holcombe says. “I don’t try to beat a dead horse. If you do that, you end up on the side of the road.” Residing in Nashville throughout much of the ‘90s, Holcombe found his music career derailed on several occasions. Sometimes selling his compositions for “pocket money, he reached a low point in 1996 when his Geffen Records debut album, “A Hundred Lies,” was shelved in the wake of a corporate shakeup. After some persistent lobbying by Holcombe fans Lucinda Williams and Steve Earle, the album was released three years later by Universal Entertainment subsidiary Hip-O Records. By that time Holcombe was no longer in the Music City, having returned to the hills of Western Carolina. “It’s a very ruthless, money-hungry, political game,” Holcombe says of the music industry. “But it’s not a game because it’s people’s lives.” Wiser from the experience, Holcombe is now on firmer ground at age 50. Married on Valentine’s Day 2003, wife Cynthia and her 7-year old son Jesse have given him the stability needed to pursue his career. “I’m very grateful to have made some decisions that make me more comfortable in my own skin,” Holcombe says. “I’ve got a bad taste in my mouth for the music industry. I don’t whine about it, but I’ve got a little bit more clarity than I used to have.” That clarity includes calling his own shots. In addition to producing himself, Holcombe also releases his music on his own — with no mention of a label on the CD’s spine. He says he’s been approached by labels, but is content being his own boss. “My experience tells me it’s not wise to get bitten by the big dog,” he says. “When you start doing your homework, looking at the pros and cons, it’s selling out — and I’m holding out.” In classic Malcolmese, Holcombe further explains the disaster that might loom should he sign a label deal. “If I have a tomato plant up on the hill and I get a couple tomatoes out of it, I ain’t gonna take a chance on a plastic carrot that looks good in the sun, all shined up, but when the sun goes down it turns into a cowpie. You ever step in a cowpie?” Back to Top
Pure Music - July 2006
Pure Music #67 July 2006 http://www.puremusic.com/67mal.html Back to Top
Creative Loafing - 06.23.06
Creative Loafing June 23, 2006 Malcolm Holcombe by Davis Holcombe's one of those songwriters you always get your money's worth with, one way or another. A commanding stage presence, he also has the songs to back it up, and a quick wit to quiet the drunks. The North Carolinian was signed to Geffen for a while, but the suits thought he was a liability and dropped him. (In other news, the 38th- place runner-up on American Idol just got a record deal). Not forgotten, his newest, is chock-full of the rough-hewn lyricism and gritty Southern Gothic diner blues he's justifiably become known for, and might be Holcombe's best to date. Which, if you've heard him before, you know is saying something. Back to Top
American Songwriter - Jul/Aug 2006
Hardcore Troubadour by Paul Kingsbury PDF Article Back to Top
Americana Roots - 6.02.06
Americana Roots CD review: Not Forgotten One Hoarse Town: Malcolm Holcombe Contributed by Shaun Harvey Friday, 02 June 2006 Growl (graul), sb 1. An act of growling; a low angry guttural sound uttered by an animal. [see also MALCOLM HOLCOMBE ][] There just isn’t any other way to say it . . . Malcolm Holcombe growls. His voice is the dark energy of an oncoming thunderstorm, his words lurk just on the edge of the woods outside the campfire’s flame, and on his latest album, the self-released twelve song cycle entitled "Not Forgotten," Malcolm Holcombe sounds like a caged animal unleashed. I’m gonna say it now . . . and let the debate begin . . . " Not Forgotten" is Malcolm Holcombe at his very best, which, considering his back catalogue, is sayin’ a whole helluva lot. In spite of its title, this is a work to be remembered, to be listened to time and time again . . . so let’s stagger on down the dusty streets of another "One Hoarse Town": this week we share the saddle with Malcolm Holcombe. The first time I heard Malcolm Holcombe was a number of years ago while spending some time down in Asheville, North Carolina (which coincidentally is also Holcombe’s home base). I was listening to WNCW, one of the region’s finest Americana stations, and on comes this voice that just blows my doors off. It’s one of those moments where you sit in the car and wait some ten minutes just so you can hear the deejay come on and tell you what you just heard. As a matter of fact, I would drive to a local music store that very day and buy the only album by Malcolm on the store’s shelves ... a stunning record entitled "A Hundred Lies" (Hip-O/Universal). As it turns out, I wasn’t the first and definitely not the last music fan to sing its praises. Rolling Stone magazine’s David Fricke gave the album four stars and both Steve Earle and Lucinda Williams were instrumental in bringing attention to this new, original voice and in getting the album to major label release. A quick disclaimer: calling Malcolm’s voice new is missing the point; it’s actually quite old, much like the mountains he calls home and the sound of it sticks with you for some time, it’s a voice that haunts the songs it lives in. Long story short ... I’m in hook, line, and sinker! Following the release of "A Hundred Lies" in 1999, other albums follow. First in 2003 comes "Another Wisdom", and that is followed by "I Never Heard You Knockin’" in 2005. The "Knockin" record is Malcolm’s first self-released album and it makes a number of "best of" lists for the year, including those of the Wall Street Journal and New York Daily Times. With "Not Forgotten" Malcolm Holcombe matches if not surpasses his previous work to date. The first cut "Sparrows and Sparrows" comes off like a forgotten Woody Guthrie song, with a touch more blues and bottle full of whiskey bottle shards. That’s followed by "Goin’ Home" which is filled with longing and leaving: "You tried to hold me like no tomorrow / You tried to keep me on your mind / But I still hear the mornin’ thunder / I still see you there in the window ... right behind you is my suitcase / Follow me boy we’re goin’ home". Home as it turns out is where the heart is and this cut has plenty of heart. Jared Tyler gives "Goin Home" drive with stand-out dobro playing (he shines throughout the disc not only on dobro, but also on bottle neck guitar and lap steel) and Holcombe complements with his own superb picking on guitar. Often compared vocally to Tom Waits, "Not Forgotten" features at least two cuts that are guaranteed to ensure those comparisons between Waits and Holcombe continue. Both songs are found near album’s end. The first is "Animated Sanctuary", which features just Malcolm’s voice and guitar and the second is "This Ol’ House", with Holcombe on guitar, Tyler once again on dobro, and Aaron Price on acoustic piano. If you close your eyes and listen, you’d swear both were from the Waits’ songbook (especially "This Ol’ House" which sounds like it was one of the cuts left off of the classic"The Heart of Saturday Night".) Holcombe overcomes these connections by filling his songs with images of fields of tobacco, corn, and barley in "Sanctuary" and the loneliness and isolation of "This Ol’ House" as it "creaks and groans / And stays the howlin’ wind / ... thru the winter nites / Bitter winter nights". This is the kind of material that you would find in the mountain blues of Doc Watson or the high lonesome ballads of Dr. Ralph Stanley. Here Holcombe’s roots are firmly planted in the images of Appalachia as are many of the songs of his new collection. The real suprises on "Not Forgotten" are those songs that are firmly planted in the blues but come on with an edge of rock ‘n roll as found on both "Cryin’ Dime" and "Yesterday’s Clothes". Together they introduce us to a side of Holcombe’s music not heard on past releases and the band of Tyler, Price (this time on B-3 organ), Bill Reynolds on bass (from Donna the Buffalo), and Josh Daly on drums pound away and Malcolm’s aforementioned growl takes on a greater power that borders on a frenzied, focused rage. The results are pleasing and powerful. I had the opportunity a couple of years ago to interview Malcolm Holcombe while working for a local non-commercial radio station. I remember asking Holcombe to define his sound and he gave me the simplest of answers. He told me his music is folk music ... nothing more, nothing less. More recently he called it "blood flowin’ folk ballads with no sound explanation". As the music fades another storm rolls in, the bugs beat against the screen door, and some animal in the thick air of late spring growls from the edge of darkness. Nuff said. SOURCE: The Compact Edition of the Oxford English Dictionary and the hills outside of Asheville, North Carolina http://www.americanaroots.com/content/News/Written-Reviews/One-Hoarse-Town-Malcolm-Holcombe.html Back to Top
Americana UK - 5.15.06
Americana UK May 15, 2006 by David Cowling Malcolm Holcombe “Not Forgotten” (Independent 2006) Noble fauvist country blues Holcombe is an American primitive, a rough hewn log cabin of a performer, crafted from traditional material - his voice doesn’t just have the rough edges left on, it is only rough edges. That combined with classic country instrumentation and a no frills style means that what you get is raw and unvarnished, the splinters left in the planks of his songs. His guitar playing lets you know every string and every contact, and each time he plays a note it resonates - this is no mannered gentle picking but bloody fingered hell-fired playing. Even when a B-3 organ is used on ‘Cryin’ Dime’ it doesn’t really alter the dynamic. Holcombe is four-square at the centre and his voice promises phlegm spittle fire and brimstone like a backwoods Beefheart. ‘Not Forgotten’ finds him sounding like Will Oldham might after another twenty years of hard scrabble living. The album is neatly summed up by ‘This Ol’ House’ - ‘this old house creaks and groans / and stays the howling wind’ - the image of him standing steadfast against the march of progress is fitting, though this is the one track where there are added harmonies and piano – the closest we get to a fully realised band sound. His rich rough voice rides roughshod over the sophistication and brings out the best in him. This record is like a chunk of wood in a pile of plastic. Back to Top
News and Observer - 5.05.06
The News and Observer May 5, 2006 David Menconi, Staff Writer If mountains could speak, they would probably do so in a voice like Malcolm Holcombe's -- craggy, deep and old beyond imagining. The Asheville denizen's excellent new album "Not Forgotten" sounds so elemental, you half-expect it to be chiseled in stone rather than stamped onto a plastic disc. But Holcombe's strangled howl gives a good dose of cosmic perspective, in that it makes you keenly aware of how little time we get on this earth. Back in March, Holcombe sang this album's closing song "Where Is My Garden" at local house-concert promoter Tim Kimrey's memorial service, and it was one of the most intensely moving musical experiences I've had this year: "Your workin' days are over, your sufferin's gone / Love's gonna live forever, and your job is done." It should be an emotional night Sunday at the Pour House in Raleigh Back to Top
Indy Weekly - 5.03.06
The Independent Weekly May 3, 2006 by Rick Cornell Malcolm Holcombe On his brand new Not Forgotten, Asheville-based Malcolm Holcombe indulges in a few musical frills, which in his rough-hewn world means shadings of dobro and lap steel. But his voice, which couldn't conceal its raw emotion on a bet, and percussive picking are still the stars of that world, driving a mix of blues, country, folk and Smoky Mountain soul that surrounds you and stays on your skin like wood smoke. As always, Holcombe leaves the term "singer-songwriter" woefully wanting. The show starts at 7 p.m. (god bless the Sunday Roots Series), and tickets are $10. --Rick Cornell Back to Top
Press & Sun Bulletin - 4.07.06
Heartbreak, redemption fuel Holcombe's music By Chris Kocher Press & Sun-Bulletin April 7, 2006 Singer/songwriter Malcolm Holcombe would probably be the first to admit he doesn't have the world's prettiest voice. His raw and craggy baritone sounds as old as the North Carolina hills where he was raised, and his frequent grunts and moans border on animalistic. And yet few others can hope to achieve the kind of naked honesty that he infuses into every syllable of his songs. Heartbreak, passion and redemption often fight for dominance in Holcombe's spare mountain-man poetry. Holcombe's latest CD, the self-released I Never Heard You Knockin', pares his sound down to its bare essentials - just Holcombe and his acoustic guitar, which serves as a weapon or a lover in equal measures. Its simple production - unfiltered with no pretensions - captures the live-show intensity that keeps his fans eager to see what he'll do next. Like a hellfire preacher still wrestling with his own demons, Holcombe lays open his struggle between good and evil. This Town Knows Me is a troublemaker's litany of sins and how they have made him an outcast. For The Love of a Good Woman could be that same man - perhaps Holcombe himself - but there is one ray of hope: "Dyin' in my grave / that I dug myself / I'm gonna sing like a slave / 'Cause there's nuthin' left / but the love of a good woman / Bless your heart and the Good Lord knows." That theme is echoed in the title song, about a love strong enough to break down barriers. The dignity of work and the importance of having a place in the world are extolled in Doin' His Job, which invokes a parallel with Christ: "Jesus on Calvary willin' to die / He was doin' his job." Holcombe's lyrics follow a stream of consciousness not on any map, utilizing terse but vibrant images to convey meaning. Talking with Holcombe, with his Southern manners and easy drawl, likewise can be delightfully random and elliptical. He's happy to bend your ear on any number of topics: the merits of husky dogs, the role of Pilgrims after the Mayflower landing, how your childhood can shape your life's outlook - everything but his music. He admitted that, apart from shows in New York City, where he has a small but devoted following of urbanites longing for simpler things, he hasn't visited this state very often. "I ended up in Montauk one time — they offered us 50 bucks to quit playing. We quit playing and never got our money. I tell you what, the jukebox sounded good — they had a real great jukebox up there," Holcombe said. "If you go to Montauk, tell 'em there's a feller from North Carolina who wants his money." I Never Heard You Knockin' is the most recent offering in a career that's been as twisted as a country road. Holcombe grew up in Weaverville, N.C., listening to country music on the radio and getting guitar tips for playing rock from other kids in his neighborhood. After high school, Holcombe formed several bands and traveled around the Southeast to bar gigs that never amounted to much. In 1990, he moved to Nashville with dreams of being a songwriter - and ended up washing dishes at a cafe popular with musicians. Slowly he built a reputation for himself, selling his songs for a pittance and using the money to fund his carousing ways. In 1996, he recorded a debut album for Geffen Records - but the label was swallowed up in a merger before it was released. Only intervention from high-profile fans got A Hundred Lies released in 1999, and it garnered critical praise despite a complete lack of promotion. Holcombe left Nashville soon after, with a firm distaste for the music industry. North Carolina is where Holcombe is happiest anyway - that much is obvious by the strong sense of place in many of his songs. Early Mornin', for instance, reminisces about growing up in the country: riding horses and shooting tin cans with a rifle. Sittin' Sad tells of a kid who grows up too fast and longs for home. "Our origins, our upbringing, the influences early on really stick with you," Holcombe said. "As we grow older, we find our own path, be a free spirit or whatever we do. But as the years count on you, as they add up a little bit ... you just want to talk about the old days. About how bad things were — or how good things were. A loaf of bread, a gallon of milk, how much you got paid, or what happened." He believes the simple way of life, and the "eyeball-to-eyeball" connectedness it brings, is something we're missing in the early years of the new millennium. Neighbors "just don't come see anybody anymore — everybody wants their own little kingdom," he said. "It bothers me — people just talk on the phone or do e-mail or whatever they do. It's the Dick Tracy watch mentality." Luckily, people such as Holcombe are taking it slower, digging into life's mysteries and showing others how it's done. He's just doin' his job. Back to Top
The Hendersonville News - 3.17.06
Malcolm Holcombe learned to play pickin' on the porch by Mary McTaggart CORE Staff Writer Malcolm Holcombe grew up around music. "My mother had some old records with the Nutcracker Suite. We used to watch classics on TV. My uncle played the guitar. We listened to the radio and watched "The Ed Sullivan Show," Holcombe said in a recent interview. Born in Asheville and raised in Weaverville, Holcombe learned first hand about front-porch picking. "There was an old country store, Big Mama's Country Store. Everyone who could pick a little would come down. We'd swap songs and tunes," Holcombe said. Holcombe learned to play the guitar while playing with other kids and simulating the local sounds and trying to make the guitar sound like the records he listened to. He played in a folk group in high school. "Any reason to get out there and pick some," Holcombe said. "If you can get past the first page of a chord book, you can learn to play." Holcombe writes his own songs. "I'm very grateful. It's from the good Lord being able to scratch and scribble stuff down. It keeps me from jumping off a cliff too frequently. It seems to help my mental health," Holcombe said. "Life ain't a bowl of cherries. There's a lot of pits, and we keep spitting them out. Pretty soon we get down to friends and neighbors. There's a lot of confusion and a lot of lost souls. You have to get your priorities and heart straight, and that's what I'm trying to do. The folks around here have been good to me." Holcombe will perform at 8 p.m. Thursday at the Blackwater Grille in Laurel Park Shopping Center. For more information, call 693-0586. Back to Top
Metro Pulse - 3.02.06
Metro Pulse vol.16 # 09 March 2, 2006 by- Molly Kincaid Malcolm Holcombe I Never Heard You Knockin’ (Gypsy Eyes Music) On the Wilco song, “The Late Greats,” Jeff Tweedy sings about a great singer who “you’ll never hear on the radio… His vocal chords are made of gold, / he just looks a little too old.” And while you might hear a Malcolm Holcombe song on WDVX from time to time, he still seems like the embodiment of Tweedy’s fictional hero, peddling his songs around the South from his home base in Asheville, igniting small sparks of brilliance in smoky bars, at the understood risk of being forgotten in the morning. No matter what he’s singing about, Holcombe always drives his point home. A country poet of sorts, his words are soaked in rural imagery and hung out to dry on a line of taut, matter-of-fact sentiment. On I Never Heard You Knockin’, his latest offering released on his independent label Gypsy Eyes, most songs heave with reflection and a gospel warmth. His graveled voice is soothing, ringing with experience, not trying to sound like anything in particular. While loads of new-school singer-songwriters capitalize on that gruff Southern theme, not a one compares to the honesty that comes natural to Holcombe. His images are impossibly vivid, soft as an old worn-out leather saddle and raw as hands blistered from clutching ancient reins. With killer one-liners like, “This town knows me like the back of your hand,” the whole album slays you with heartbreaking authenticity. But Holcombe doesn’t need to prove he’s the real thing. Anyone who’s ever seen him live already knows. Pick up the disc and see him play at WDVX’s One Vision Plaza for this Friday’s Writer’s Block, a recurring series of singer-songwriters performing for First Friday. The show is on March 3 at 6 p.m. Back to Top
Columbus Ledger-Enquirer - 2.02.06
COLUMBUS LEDGER-ENQUIRER Thu, Feb. 02, 2006 RAW SOUND: No spoon-fed 'garbage' by Brad BarnesL The way Malcolm Holcombe sees it, P.T. Barnum was dead wrong. "We ain't as dumb as we look," he says at the start of a rant about radio waves and record racks filled with "cookie-cutter Triple-A radio jukebox clutter." Ahem. "People are trying to spoon-feed you this garbage, but there's some intelligent people out there," says the songwriter. "I think it was P.T. Barnum that said, 'There's a sucker born every minute.' But there's fewer of them being born these days, so P.T. Barnum would be out of business." I don't want to be accused of spoon-feeding you or anything, but I'll go ahead and connect the dots. He's calling the music business a circus. That's part of what led the fellow -- who performs Saturday at Opelika's Eighth & Rail -- to strip down his sound and release his latest record, "I Never Heard You Knockin' " without a record label's help. "It's more human-to-human," says Holcombe. "I've got artistic control, which I never had in the past. I don't have to keep up with all these stupid political favors in the music business. I own the masters, and I appreciate that." The previous three records, released on labels, brought him lots of critical acclaim, if not either artistic control or fame. Rolling Stone has given him four-star reviews and glowing prose. (The magazine's David Fricke praised the "immediacy of his Appalachian-Tom Waits drawl, the dirt-road feel of his finger picking and the candid punch of his epigrammatic verse.") At 50, Holcombe is a small-town North Carolinian with stringy hair and muttonchops bigger than a frying pan, looking more than a bit like Neil Young . Musically, he's drawn more comparisons to the likes of John Prine and Waits, which is a nod to a sandspur-smooth voice, a small-town philosopher's way with words, and a musical sensibility that stomps through blues, folk and country. The blues influence comes through clearest on the stripped-down "Knockin'." "That's the nuts and bolts of it: An old flat-topped guitar and stringing some words together," Holcombe says. "And I figure it's at least a semblance of what you can expect live, without a lot of synthesizers and a lot of hoopla. "With some music, you can't see the forest for the trees. There's too much clutter." He'll clear some of that clutter starting about 10:30 p.m. EST at Eighth & Rail, in downtown Opelika. Back to Top
Wall Street Journal - 1.28.06
WALL STREET JOURNAL CD ROUNDUP BY JIM FUSILLI January 28, 2006; Page P12 Satisfied knowing we'll buy retreads like the recent five-CD boxed set from the Band -- a group that made only two notable studio albums and had already issued two other boxed sets -- and pap like Rod Stewart's "Thanks for the Memory... The Great American Songbook IV," the recording industry doesn't put much effort into marketing to baby boomers music by artists who aren't household names. It's as if they haven't figured out how to nudge us toward such boomer-friendly gems as Paula Morelenbaum's sophisticated samba-electronica blend "Berimbaum" (Universal); "I Never Heard You Knockin' " (Holcombe), Malcolm Holcombe's stunning aural equivalent of found art; and Longwave's smart, sweeping "There's a Fire" (RCA), three discs among the best of 2005. Back to Top
NY Daily News - 1.8.06
Unsung Glories Malcolm Holcombe "I Never Heard You Knockin' " New York Daily News Sunday January 8, 2006 by Jim Farber (PDF) Malcolm Holcombe must swig from the same rotgut that fuels Tom Waits. Both singers sound like their voices were soaked in whisky drawn from a deep well of experience. Unfortunately, Holcombe has reached far fewer listeners than Waits. The singer from Weaverville, N.C., has been issuing albums sporadically since 1996. The latest, his fourth, is a low-budget, self-produced, all-acoustic affair. Luckily, with a voice as vibrantly expressive as Holcombe's, there's little need for instruments other than his rickety guitar. In the album's opener, "Sittin' Sad and Wonderin' ", Holcombe's husky exhales carry a sarcastic humor; while his junkyard howls will chill you to the bone. When he sings "Been knocked down flat/ All over the place" in "For the Love of a Good Woman", you can imagine every bruise. But Holcombe's message isn't nearly as depressing as it initially sounds. He shows appreciation for every gesture of acceptance he has received, and for the daily rituals that give life it's shape. His gratitude reaches a peak in "Doing His Job", where he offers his thanks for the tasks that give him a place in the world. By the time he gets to the chorus, his ravaged voice sounds almost sweet. Back to Top
South Florida Sun-Sentinal - 12.04.05
South Florida Sun-Sentinal December 4, 2005 Bob Weinberg MALCOLM HOLCOMBE: In a voice as rough as tree bark and as dark as late-night regret, Malcolm Holcombe explores matters both earthy and existential on his stark new album I Never Heard You Knockin'. "I close my eyes and the moon keeps shinin', a million stars up in the sky," he sings on the hushed, intimate title track. "I close my eyes and I'm always reminded, still a'goin' out not a'comin' in." From celebrating the blessing of good, honest work on Doin' His Job to wondering "who's gonna love me when I'm old?" on Mama Told Me So, the North Carolina-born singer-songwriter gets deep to the heart of the matter, his crystalline acoustic guitar-picking contrasting with his whiskeyed snarl and recalling country-blues greats such as Mississippi John Hurt and the Rev. Gary Davis. Celebrated in the pages of Rolling Stone, as well as Americana bibles such as No Depression and Dirty Linen, Holcombe has toured with Shelby Lynne and opened for everyone from Merle Haggard to Wilco. Back to Top
The Bulletin - 12.02.05
Malcolm on the Corner Stellar Carolina Songscribe plays Downtown Conroe Plus: Por Victoria Mark Williams Music Editor This weekend, Downtown Conroe is set to meet a music man like few others -- a true journeyman musician who has lived life’s ups and downs, turning his experiences into great songs in the Americana mode. Malcolm Holcombe been called a singer-songscribe in the ranks of folk greats like Neil Young, Bruce Springsteen and Bob Dylan, but also displays a deep country soulfulness in the vein of the immortal Hank Williams. His latest CD, I Never Heard You Knockin’, is an acoustically-bent tour-de-force -- a man and a guitar, singing and playing straight from the heart. Like many songwriters, Holcombe spent many years in Nashville, but, he says, “it never really went anywhere. I made a lot of friends, washed a lot of dishes, but finally, I decided I could do just as well if I moved back home” -- so it was back to his native North Carolina, where he continued writing and singing, playing dusty roadhouses across the country following the release of his 1999 debut, A Hundred Lies, which garnered a rave four-star review from Rolling Stone -- praised by the publication “for the way he paints vivid portraits with his songs, turning them into haunting, brooding, moving affairs; there’s an ache of loveliness and loneliness, of torment and hope, threaded through each of his songs.” Recorded in the hometown of Asheville, N.C., I Never Heard You Knockin’, has been singled out by critics for its intimate feel; his compositions have been described as simple stories -- “his own or fictional tales that he pulls from a mental and emotional ether with all the aplomb of a Native American spirit guide” -- but Holcombe stays modest. “I don’t know if anything I do is all that special, but it is honest. I was raised in the country, where the rule was that wherever you are, you get to know your neighbors and friends and try to get to know yourself; that was part of growing up -- trying to get closer to God and being in touch, not being stove up between your ears to where you got selfish and self-absorbed. It may not make much of a difference, but I’m grateful I’m given the chance to reach out to other people through my music.” Malcolm Holcombe has amassed a fanbase inside the music industry, touring with country torch singer Shelby Lynne (most recently seen in Walk The Line) while opening for country and indie legends like Merle Haggard, piano man Leon Russell and Wilco; two of his songs were also recorded by Irish folkster Maura O’Connell on her 2001 album Walls & Windows. “You could’ve knocked me over with a feather when that happened,” says Holcombe, “but I think I had a little help along the way. Ray Kennedy, a great friend who engineered my new album, produced that record, too, so I think maybe he showed her those songs.” “Whether finger-picking a delicate filigree around the gospel truth...or slapping out angry chords with percussive force,” writes one critic, “Malcolm Holcombe supplies all the accompaniment his true-to-life snapshots need. Like a neighbor confiding at the late night kitchen table, or Job lamenting his trials, these songs feel honest and timeless…there’s a wisdom to his delivery, and a brittle beauty to his rootsy tunes, that makes his music a pleasure…” Get acquainted with Malcolm Holcombe when he plays The Corner Pub (300 N. Main, Conroe) this Saturday (12/3) at 9PM; tickets are $7. Call 936-788-2390 for more information… Back to Top
Performing Songwriter - December 2005
Malcolm Holcombe I Never Heard You Knockin' featured download "Mama Told Me So" Performing Songwriter Volume 13, Issue 90 December 2005 You'll find the loneliness, chill and beauty of an Appalachian early morning in North Carolina native Malcolm Holcombe's latest recording. His road-wizened voice, somewhere between Utah Philips and Tom Waits, sings unflinchingly of hard times and hard work. "Layin' rock, drivin' a nail, drivin' a truck, deliverin' mail", sings Holcombe, extolling the satisfaction of the day laborer in "Doin' His Job". Doc Watson-style finger-picked guitar is the sole accompaniment, and the sparseness of the arrangements serves to higlight the lyrics. Holcombe's gift for poetry and setting a scene is most evident in the track "Early Mornin' ". "Ridin' on the back of ol' Nellie, Daddy setting tobacco/ leather reins in his big ol' hands, I hear him geein and hawin", he sings over a bluesy guitar line. This timeless collection of songs would fit just as easily around a 19th century campfire as in today's alt country scene. -Mare Wakefield Back to Top
The Loafer - 11.22.05
Down Home is like home for Malcolm Holcombe by Michael Clark Part 1 PDF Part 2 PDF Back to Top
Nashville Scene - 11.10.05
Nashville Scene By Jack Silverman Where Dada meets country wisdom, that’s where you’ll find Malcolm Holcombe. “A bull’s ass gets hungry, too,” the North Carolina singer-songwriter explained to the attentive Bluebird crowd last Thursday, and they laughed nervously, uncertain if they were supposed to understand. But Holcombe’s spontaneous remark, just to kill time while he tuned his guitar, was much like the lyrical conundrums that give his songs a mystical bent. “But I believe in ways than these,” he sang to start the choruses of the gorgeous “A Far Cry From Here,” and, flaws of logic and grammar aside, it somehow made perfect sense, though we’d be hard-pressed to explain how. Perhaps it’s the conviction that oozes from his scratchy, booming baritone, or his disarming lack of even a nano-hint of self-consciousness. Holcombe has found a steady home at the Bluebird, and the venue is oddly appropriate for a couple of reasons: first, he’s one act that makes us actually want to shush the crowd, and second, his off-kilter persona and eccentric stage antics—getting up out of his chair and hunching over the mic, furiously shaking his head like a pit-bull tearing someone’s arm off—create a palpable tension among the relatively wholesome audience, giving the proceedings a delicious edge. What might seem like a conscious attempt to baffle is more likely just Malcolm being Malcolm, and in the end it always comes back to the music, which is by turns raucous, heartrending, mystifying and hypnotic, but rarely less than stunning. “Wow,” our newbie friend whispered, “he’s really intense.” Back to Top
American Songwriter - Sept/Oct 2005
MALCOLM HOLCOMBE \| I Never Heard You Knockin’ Four Stars Malcolm Holcombe's first major-label release, A Hundred Lies(Geffen, 1999), sparked raves from the likes of Lucinda Williams and Rolling Stone, but its sinewy folk poetry was heard by far too few. This is a shame, because no one sounds quite like Holcombe- though Tom Waits and 1920's bluesman Dock Boggs come to mind. Holcombe released this fifth album on his own and recorded it the old-fashioned way: live, just him and his acoustic guitar. The spare, unstudied approach suits the North Carolina native's raspy baritone and the hardscrabble, working-class lives he describes. Whether fingerpicking a delicate filigree around the gospel truth of "Mama Told Me So" or slapping out chords with angry, percussive force on "This Town Knows Me", Holcombe supplies all the musical accompaniment his true-to-life snapshots need. Like a neighbor confiding at the late-night kitchen table, or Job lamenting his trials, these songs feel honest and timeless. -Paul Kingsbury Back to Top
Vintage Guitar Magazine - Sept. 2005
I Never Heard You Knockin' (Gypsy Eyes Music) Showcasing Holcombe's granular voice, rustic fingerpicking guitar style, and songwriting in a natural sonic environment, this album has a fiery intensity reminiscent of Steve Earle's first release. If you like your music straight up, Holcombe serves it. -SS Back to Top
Boston's Weekly Dig - 8.25.05
MALCOLM HOLCOMBE \| I Never Heard You Knockin’ Malcolm Holcombe’s traditional, ‘shine-soaked Southern folk has always embodied elements of late Dylan, mid-career Dave Van Ronk, a touch of Guy Clark and a few pounds of John Fahey, without ever really sounding like anyone but Malcolm Holcombe. Now, however, five years after garnering a four-star review in Rolling Stone for A Hundred Lies, Holcombe has surpassed anything he’s done before—and quite possibly any folk record of the last 10 years—with the self-released, stripped-down, hopeful, dark, sad, pretty and menacing Knockin’. And a lot has changed since the big-label Lies. Holcombe’s voice, for one, is completely falling apart, going from slightly deep and slightly twangy to a lonesome, low-country growl. All we have here is the singer and his guitar moving through songs about Jesus, hard work, heartbreak, old friends and lost love. The opener, “Sittin’ Sad,” is a barn rocker whose quality is revealed from the first note (“Shotgun blasts an’ drum circles / Bustin’ rocks and workin’ my nerves / Mama’s mad, she’s dog-tired / Sittin’ sad and wonderin’”) and “Gone by the Ol’ Sunrise” is almost intolerably sad (“Lights across the river / Close enough to touch / A mile from here to me and you / Gone by the ol’ sunrise”). Taken together, it’s an extraordinary achievement. [JOE KEOHANE] Back to Top
Louisville Eccentric Observer - 8.24.05
I Never Heard You Knockin’ Malcolm Holcombe (Independent/Gypsy Eyes Music) American Malcolm Holcombe is one of those rare breeds of troubadours: a gifted songwriter with a weary, dusky voice and an intimate guitar style not unlike his spiritual soul brethren, J.J. Cale and Townes Van Zandt. As the best of Southern troubadours before him, Malcolm tells a good story. His expressive personality makes the material resonate. Rolling between a slurring growl on “ Sittin’ Sad” and “For the Love a Good Woman” and a pretty fair pastiche of Dylan’s “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right” on “Mama Told Me So,” he gently reminds us that folk music, through all of its trappings, assimilation, gentrification and commercialization, is never more than two shots and a bump away from a weekend in stir and a public nuisance beef. It’s not as if his mannerisms come across as affectations, like so many of the new crop of Americana. If he hasn’t lived the life he sings about in his songs, he is an incredible liar. Ironically, that would be another quality traditionally associated with the wandering minstrel. —Michael Steiger Back to Top
New Haven Advocate - 8.18.05
Brandishing an acoustic six-string and a voice caked with dusty, Woody Guthrie life experience, a late-night, Western gin-mill heartache and a head full of notions he got from camping out at the crossroads, Malcolm Holcombe says more in his first notes of his latest CD, I Never Heard You Knockin , than any alt-country band could ever acquire. True American, road-weary folk music. Back to Top
Freight Train Boogie - July 2005
MALCOLM HOLCOMBE I Never Heard You Knockin'... (self-released) Malcolm Holcombe is a native of North Carolina who bears a passing resemblance to Neil Young in his “Gold Rush” days, and he sounds and writes like Alberta's Diamond Joe White. (See if you can find some of his music!) Self-described as a country/folk artist, he's been lauded by, amongst others, Lucinda Williams, and I think that particular lady knows whereof she speaks: she's picked a few good ones before. Aside from sharing one co-writing credit with Steve Heller on “Doin' His Job”, this is a bona fide one man show, just Holcombe and his flat top. He's possessed on one of those gravelly voices that exude passion, anguish, and empathy. I can't believe that he's singing of experiences that he read about in a book somewhere along the line; far too authentic for that to be a possibility. Country/folk, for sure, but there lots of Appalachian blues, e.g. “Mama Told Me So”, “Cathy's Creek”, to name a few. Pathos with impeccable acoustic stylings is how I sum this one up. Malcombe's web site has MP3's samples. Order from Village Records. Released April, '05, reviewed by Don Grant. Back to Top
KnoxNews - 07.17.05
Bledsoe: Holcombe's superb new disc steeped in raw honesty By WAYNE BLEDSOE Back to Top
Savannah Morning News - 07.15.05
A Review By Stuart Harmening For the Savannah Morning News Malcolm Holcombe, 'I Never Heard You Knockin' ' A North Carolina songwriter, his guitar and a trip to another world Pure. Authentic. Honest. These words sum up Malcolm Holcombe's latest release, "I Never Heard You Knockin.'" This no-frills solo record from the North Carolina-raised songwriter cuts right to the heart of things over 11 brisk tracks - just Holcombe and his guitar. Broadly, his style blends laconic, narrative lyrics with a dexterous finger-style guitar to produce a not-quite-folk, not-quite-country-blues that could be compared with similarly idiosyncratic "renegade" songwriters such as Townes Van Zandt, Guy Clark, John Prine, etc. Vocally, Holcombe has a powerful, hard-edged gruffness that evokes a cross between Tom Waits and Don Van Vliet (Captain Beefheart). While these comparisons offer frame of reference, they fail to encompass the singular and clear purpose that sets Holcombe apart and defies half-baked analogy. In Holcombe's world, everything has a place and everyone has a job to do, and by virtue of this providential order, Holcombe is an Appalachian balladeer whose lot in life is to write songs. One senses that he would be just as happy and comfortable plying his trade on a back porch in the sticks as he would in a top-shelf showcase room. More than anything else, it is this transparent sincerity that sustains "Knockin'" where lesser efforts might fade or falter. Malcolm Holcombe is just doing his job, and this disc proves he's doing it well. Back to Top
Chattanooga Pulse - 07.06.05
Malcolm Holcombe I Never Heard You Knockin’ Rating: 4 out of 5 A listen to I Never Heard You Knockin’ is like a journey back through time in someone else’s well-worn shoes. Featuring only a well-strummed guitar and his own gravelly voiced lyrics, Malcolm Holcombe wades through an 11-song set that explores slices of life like a peek through a nostalgic family photo album. Music beyond its years, aged and weary, Knockin’ is a taste of pure Americana. Momma, a good woman, a working man, friends, growing up and aging, are all subjects of interest to Holcombe as he explores each in a way that enables his audience to relate. Bluesy, folksy and raw, Knockin’ is an accumulation of life’s stories - the roads taken, the dreams unrealized and hopes left unfulfilled. Malcolm Holcombe will appear at Charles & Myrtle’s Coffeehouse on July 9. -Wynn Hayden Back to Top
Connect Savannah - 06.15.05
CONNECT SAVANNAH It's just a flat-top guitar and some songs The ever-humble, ever-insightful Malcolm Holcombe brings his brand of roots music to the Sentient Bean By Jim Reed June 15, 2005 It’s easy to get a little lost when speaking with Malcolm Holcombe. That’s because the guitarist has a knack for speaking in circles. Not to say that he doesn’t stay on topic or fails to make sense. On the contrary, he’s one of the most lucid and in-the-moment cats you’ll find. It’s just that – like most career poets and songwriters – his end of conversations can sometimes take on the characteristics of his songs themselves. The cadence, the sense of negative space, the inherent ebb and flow of his side of a phone interview or face-to-face chat – they’re all part and parcel of the idiosyncratic style in which he imparts the introspective lyrics of many of his best tunes. It’s at first a bit of an odd sensation to feel as though you’re eavesdropping on someone else’s thought process. At times, it’s hard to know when Holcombe has finished his statements. Words trail off, hang in the air like dandelion seeds, and sometimes float back into play when you least expect them. Awkward at times? Yes, but in the delightful and refreshing way that – to many of us – defines the very notion of "good conversation." I first met Malcolm over the phone last year while interviewing him for this publication in advance of what would turn out to be his first visit to Savannah. At the time, he was appearing under the auspices of the Savannah Folk Music Society – a longstanding community organization that is slowly embracing the sort of new, fresh and highly personal acoustic tunesmithing that artists such as Holcombe have come to epitomize. It’s a style informed by the roots music of old, drawing from the same “deeper well” as The Carter Family, Charlie Poole, Son House and others, and running through such latter-day innovators as Dylan, John Prine, David Olney, Billy Joe Shaver, Guy Clark, Suzanne Vega, Lucinda Williams, and Steve Earle (some of whom are both Malcolm’s friends and fans). Looking back further, it’s easy to trace its origins in the Celtic and British balladry that settlers to Appalachia brought with them hundreds of years ago. Holcombe knows this lineage well, even if its not something he’s conscious of. He’s an important link in the evolution (and preservation) of this tradition. A roving minstrel, adding his own unique “melodic color commentary” to the world around him. As a star or celebrity, he fails rather nicely – he’s all but unknown outside songwriting circles and a small international core of fanatic listeners and critics – but as a daring, captivating live performer and recording artist, he towers over others in his field, high profiles be damned. This doesn’t seem to phase him much, or at least if it does, he dismisses such talk with the kind of self-deprecating demeanor that suggests either a serious inferiority complex, or – more likely – an abiding faith in God and a deep resolve concerning his own place in the grand scheme of things. One theme that Holcombe returns to often in interviews, conversation and his lyrics, is the concept that people should take immense pride in what they do. Not the sort of shameful pride of the vain or self-righteous, but the calm, centered peace that can only be acquired through a deep-seated sense of purpose, and an almost relentless work ethic. That ethic has served him well during the lean years and personal travails that have sometimes dogged this beautiful dreamer. Now, though, Holcombe seems to have turned a page in his illustrious, low-key career. In late March, he released his latest album, I Never Heard You Knockin’. It’s a flat-out stunner that finds him in rare form as he tears through 11 songs in less than 45 minutes. Tracked quickly without muss or fuss, it’s nothing but Malcolm and his $100 guitar (he scoffs at folks who pay thousands of dollars for fine instruments, saying it’s much more important who’s holding them than where they were made), and it’s one of the more touching and intimate records of its kind that I’ve yet come across. “To call a spade a spade, it’s just a flat-top guitar and some songs,” Holcombe humbly notes. “It is what it is, man. It’s got no kind of fancy production on it. We tried to make it as real as possible.” It’s also his first completely independent release, available through his website (www.malcolmholcombe.com), and created without any record company interference – something that has famously thrown monkey wrenches into his commercial success in the past. “I own all the songs on this record except for one tune,” he says with a palpable sense of relief. Malcolm spoke to us by phone from his home in the tiny town of Swannanoa, N.C., just outside of Asheville. Connect Savannah: What are you up to this fine morning? Malcolm Holcombe: Drinkin’ coffee. Some people are coffee addicts, man. They’re strung out. Connect Savannah: Are you one of them? Malcolm Holcombe: I don’t have to have it, but… Well, I guess my disposition improves, which means it still ain’t worth a shit. It keeps me out of jail. (laughs) That and my wife’s homemade potato salad. So we have little things we put in our bodies, because George W. Bush ain’t doin’ a damn thing for my mental health! I’m grabbin’ for straws, man! (laughs) Connect Savannah: When were the songs on this new CD written? Malcolm Holcombe: All except for one were done in the last year. I had a bag o’ tunes, and the time. You get’cha few rocks and eventually you make a wall, and then a structure. The record wound up being built under my nose, so to speak. These songs are representative of life as I’m seeing it and living it over the past 10 or 15 months. Connect Savannah: Why release it yourself? Malcolm Holcombe: Well, we kept hem-hawing around with these record labels, and listening to people flap their jaws, you know? Our stomachs were growling. So me and my wife went into a local studio, got a couple of good microphones and a good vibe. It only took a couple takes of each song. You play ‘em more than 2 or 3 times and they just turn into… mush. You can beat a dead horse, but then you’re still stuck on the side of the road! (laughs) Connect Savannah: Were you objective enough to produce it yourself? Malcolm Holcombe: Well, I bounce things off my wife. She’s my soul mate. She’s got true red blood in her inner ears from listening to Guy Clark and Townes Van Zandt and a lot of the old blues guys like Mississippi John Hurt. She knows when it’s real and when it’s horseshit. She’s my “song checker.” She knows if it’s comin’ through solid and strong or if it’s a trite buncha crap. Connect Savannah: So, in the past did you have somebody you could trust like that? Malcolm Holcombe: Shit, no! I thought I could, but it was a crapshoot and it always ended up snake eyes, man. It was a void. This is part of the design that a lot of people long for, and I’ve been blessed to have a little ray of sunshine and a drop of rain after a terrible search. You have to go through your own mortal hell, you know? (laughs) Connect Savannah: This new CD is so raw it sounds like whispered advice. Malcolm Holcombe: I haven’t given it that kind of thought in depth. Sometimes on stage you get so deep into a song that you kinda dissolve away into the song itself… without getting’ too weird on you here. (laughs) It has to be true to your heart to pass it along. If I can roll around some thoughts between someone else’s ears, that’s all I can really hope for. Connect Savannah: Listeners can think way more about these things than the writer. Malcolm Holcombe: That’s true. Good call. That’s just what I was thinking. There’s a lot of people that talk about this muse, you know? I don’t even know what a muse is! It’s Greek mythology, right? Some kinda horse with wings or something’? I don’t dig on that stuff. These things just happen. I’m just recounting my thoughts and opinions, and tryin’ not to be too wishy-washy. You get behind the wheel and do whatever you gotta do to make it on down the road. Stay focused and drive on! Some of this stuff today is so trite, and you know that as well as I do. You been around the block! You gotta listen to me and all these other clowns, jugglin’ balls. Bottom line is, with the grace of the good Lord… God, Allah, Buddha, whatever you call that thing that’s within everybody. We’re a part of a whole. That’s what I believe. I guess I’m getting’ kinda far out on ya. (laughs) Connect Savannah: On that subject, there’s only one song in the liner notes where the lyrics and the title are printed in all caps – “Doin’ His Job,” which openly references Jesus. Should I take anything away from that emphasis? Is that song the centerpiece of the album? Malcolm Holcombe: Yeah, that was a typo. Connect Savannah: Are you kidding me? Malcolm Holcombe: No. I hate to blow your little observation. (laughs) Connect Savannah: Well, I hadn’t made up my mind. That’s why I asked. Malcolm Holcombe: I guess I could’ve let that one slide, and said that’s how the stars all got in a row, but it’s just a typo, man. Down to earth, plain old mistake. Back to Top
Americana U.K. - June 2005
Malcolm Holcombe “I Never Heard You Knockin’” (Gypsy Eyes Music 2005) Review by Robin Cracknell Matured but spiky acoustic folk rich with the language of loneliness, loss and lament. Turning fifty this year, Malcolm Holcombe is one of those legendary folk troubadours who, despite steady praise from the critics, has never moved much beyond minor cult status. Four star reviews from Rolling Stone, touring with Shelby Lynne and opening for the likes of Richard Thompson and Wilco have done little to break him into a wider audience but, with the right distribution, this little indie album might persuade the, as yet, uninitiated. True, many folkies are just singing the same recycled stories with the same predictable rhythms like so many insects buzzing but even folk-sceptics (such as myself) will notice a genuine muse at work here that demands attention and (much harder) sustains it across 11 tracks. All acoustic and self-produced, the sheer ‘presence’ in these recordings is startling. Every nuance, the way his fingertips hammer and scrape down the strings, a shirt button flicking against the guitar, his every breath and flinty wheeze, is so faithfully captured Holcombe virtually materialises in the room with you. The obligatory comparison might be to offbeat storytellers like Tom Waits or John Prine but that’s just too easy. Good as those two legends are, there is a more primitive, almost naive ‘attack’ in these performances -- and these songs do sound more like performances than mere recordings. ‘Sittin’ Sad’ kicks things off with some frenzied picking with Holcombe’s muscular vocals sounding like an axe splitting wood one minute and growling like Howlin’ Wolf the next. Lyrically, it’s ramblin’ hobo poetry about the lonely road and what you leave behind, a theme which flowers and repeats throughout the record. In lesser hands, these would be meaningless blues clichés but not so with Holcombe. His language is his own and seems genuinely to spring from his own dark vault of personal experience rather than a few old Folkways records and a keen ear. Phrases like ‘a handful o’ gimme and a tongue much obliged’ or ‘that ol’ mailbox is a ways away that ol’ road keeps a washin’/washin’ up purty quartz rocks and mica shinin’ in the sun’ just sound like the real deal, especially driven by that dream engine of weatherbeaten vocals and Martin guitar. Holcombe’s grizzly intensity remains undiminished even in his quieter, more reflective moments which are many on this album. ‘Early Mornin’’ is in tender Waits territory although, again, these comparisons are simply shorthand for something more profound. With none of Tom Waits’ barfly burlesque nor any of John Prine’s humour or sentimentality, Holcombe’s songs sound more ancient, like something Alan Lomax might have stumbled across in his Southern journeys fifty years ago. Born in North Carolina and raised in Florida, Holcombe has no real connection to the Deep South (nor rural Appalachia for that matter) but his songs, songs of toil and prayer and ‘kickin’ cans and catchin’ hell’ capture the ethos of those places and the fiery spirituality of its parish. Most of the songs deal with family in one way or another, what connects us, how concave we become when families spread and dissolve (Holcombe’s parents both died early) and how we try to fill those spaces as the memories fade. As he sings on ‘Mama Told Me’, ‘there’s always been nobody but me and you/there’s always been somebody gone.’ ‘A Hundred Lies’, recorded in 1996 and released a few years later is the more fully-fleshed, electric album that brought Holcombe to cult prominence but this album, spare, intimate and without a shred of that dreary folkie ‘worthiness’, is an honest document on despair and distance, regret and redemption that should attract the same sort of well-deserved acclaim. www.malcolmholcombe.com Back to Top