Larry Hirshberg: Press

From an email Tom Catmull sent out to his promo list on 7/21/09 -

"Larry Hirshberg is careful with his words.


More careful than most.


I know this because I've been listening to him since I moved to Missoula in 1994. I had no songs of my own at that point. He had plenty, and that was fifteen years ago. "Commercially", his musical path has proved about as fruitful as the average musical path, I suppose. A coffee shop gig. A good pub. An occasional rocking band. Occasional band politics. The sweet opener for the national act. A coffeeshop that realizes how "hassle-free" XM radio is. Another band. Another pub. Occasional crazed but loyal fans.



One thing remains with this guy. Larry has never taken songwriting lightly. His word choice and imagery have never been more pointed or potent. His craft doesn't present itself as commercially driven. And that's not a shot.

Consciously or unconsciously, I believe Larry's music is not designed to sell alcohol. You can't dance to a lot of it. Its not for quick consumption. In many cases, you'll need to go back. There is something you missed that is worth the return. In that way, the songs seem to ask a bit more of the listener. Sometimes you have to go inside. But just as you enter, you get hit with something that seems like it was written by some classic American roots legend with a dusty sounding name. That is, of course, the way the song thing works. If you listen, you can get inside. If you get inside a good one, it is nothing short of DAVID COPPERFIELD MAGIC, I tell you!!! You don't always want to be inside, though. I don't. And I can't. Its a busy world out there. And there is a big old basket of crappy songs to waste you're time on that keeps landing in your lap. Modern country anyone? It'll also make your ears a little gun shy next time a good opportunity presents itself. But the right words in a quiet theater will properly, if only temporarily, destroy all that other stuff. The battle rages on.

Get inside one of this guy's songs. Larry's, that is. It's weird in there. A lot a love. A bit of darkness. Its quirky. Not what you thought. Were you fooled about where you thought you were going? Or were you the victim of your own foolish assumptions!?!?!? It's the Twilight Zone wrapped in a warm fuzzy blanket with some kind of western print. It'll make you want to know him better. And you should.



I was reminded of all this at the Red Bird wine bar the other night when I saddled up to the bar to see my old friend and hear some songs that I know. The bar was packed. Larry was doing his thing and had the strict attention of the tables surrounding him. It reminded me of how powerful those songs are when played right in front of you. Which, in turn, reminded me of how EVEN MORE powerful they are in the quiet of a dark theater. I played a showcase like the one this week in the Crystal years ago, but it featured five writers instead of three. And the two guys who landed most solidly that night were Mr. Hirshberg and the uh,...other "Tarkio guy". Both careful word choosers. Very careful. Don't miss the details. They are delicious. I still get tons of requests for songs of his that I used to sing years ago with some regularity. Some I've forgotten how to play. These include, but are not limited to,...Every One of Those Men, The Quiet Walker, Quicksilver Oxygen Gold, Cycle of Redemption, and on and on...

Larry is one third of where ten bucks and a glass of wine will take you this Wednesday night. And you'll be home at a decent hour."

Local stalwart Larry Hirshberg showcases his wide-ranging versatility on Box Elder, serving up a dozen tracks that include old-school blues on “Handful of Dirt,” Pink Floyd-esque minimalism on “Nothing to Her,” and the head-bopping pop that drives “Settling Down, Obviously.” Box Elder is a bit like what would happen if you put Tom Petty, Mike Gordon, Weezer and the soundtrack from The Royal Tenenbaums in a blender. And, unlikely as the combination may be, it works.

Hirshberg’s music is virtually a one-man show (a few guests sit in on drums, vocal backup and guitar), and isn’t heavily produced, which gives it a fresh, unapologetic sound. Though he’s a stylistic chameleon, Hirshberg follows similar thematic threads throughout the album. Aging, parenthood, childhood and the discombobulated state of the world are addressed with charming and frank lyrics that at various points hint equally of earnestness and sarcasm. Whether he’s pondering the production of children’s toys in the remarkably catchy “Orange Lion” or calling for a new era of peace in “Watching Combat,” his distinct voice, creative melodies and compelling themes combine for an album that is diverse, but also distinctly Hirshberg.

Review of Packing For Nowhere - Nowhere is a place where the sound of pounding hooves and jazz drum rolls intersect narrations about moths and Tasty Cakes—a twilight zone populated with a dream-like concoction of familiar images and unfamiliar sounds. At least that’s the nowhere of Larry Hirshberg’s new album Packing for Nowhere, an experimental collage of noise and spoken word.

...The album reveals streaks of the dark creepiness of a David Lynch film: in “The Pine Hen,” chord progressions fade in and out like a distorted music box while a woman methodically lists types of hens. In “Packing for Norway,” Hirshberg’s neurotic repetition of “Can you tell I’m nervous?” is countered by a tempered hi-hat and the strange sound of rattling seeds. Or is that oil sizzling in a pan? The clarity of (and indulgence in) sound provides a study in perception. It’s an intriguing album with rich textures that provide something—and somewhere—new.

Review of The Trillionaires' disc, Honeycomb Conjecture - "The honeycomb conjecture posits that a hexagonal grid represents the most efficient way to divide a surface into regions of equal area with the least total perimeter. Which means, of course, it holds the most honey. The Trillionaires’ debut album, Honeycomb Conjecture, seems to maximize space with a similar theory.

Travis Yost strategically unleashes smart drum fills into every nook and cranny while Tyson Roth keeps the bass lines simple but interesting. The latter is especially evident in “Birds of Paradise,” wherein Roth executes climbing and descending scales with snappy vigor. The album is not overproduced, which makes it all the more charming, and though it’s a basic three-piece rock record, the composition is refreshing and the lyrics sharp.

Larry Hirshberg’s vocals have the frank casualness of Tom Petty, and in new-wave songs like “Someone Specific,” he brings a conversational tone that evokes the coolness of David Byrne. “Public Restroom” is one of the album’s catchier creations, with a reggae-influenced riff and the gem line: “Public restroom has afforded me the clearest view/of the world so far.”

A bee’s design captures honey in a uniform grid, but locals The Trillionaires have fashioned an album with strong, diverse tunes that hold just as much substance. "

Review of "Ice at Home"
"From the Harry Nilsson-esque “Steam Locomotive” to the Chuck Berry chug of “Perfect Girl,” these 13 original songs are presented in an unvarnished, warts-and-all style that highlights the harmonies and varied picking styles. But it's Hirshberg's raw, nasally bray that ties it all together. He's no crooner, but then, neither are John Prine or Bob Dylan, right? The near lack of reverb or processing on his voice gives it a vulnerable, yet unapologetic quality. This refusal to sand down the rough edges or ingratiate himself to the listener also comes through in some of the lyrics, such as on “The Rider” when he sings, “She tries hard to make her own luck / Baby needs someone who (exhibits a level of interest).”

Another standout track is “Calendar Blues,” a hillbilly vaudeville polka that hilariously recounts a marriage gone bad from the first date all the way to “that day in court (when) I told the judge ‘I don't.' ” At just over two minutes, it's the shortest song on the album, but also the most fun. Hmm. Larry, let me give you my analyst's number.

The best song on the CD is “209.1 FM.” Inspired, no doubt, by Larry's long-running DJ gig at KBGA, this sad little waltz hangs on the framework of Sporman's gloomy bass notes like tattered laundry in the backyard of a shack under the airport's flight line. The melancholy, late-night feel of the music perfectly supports Hirshberg's duet with himself, as he sings of “wide awake disjointed beats.” Obtuse writing is Hirshberg's specialty, and he seems loath to spell out anything too clearly for the listener. Still, when the music's this good, I don't care if he's singing about a recipe for potato latkes - I'm dancing, baby."

Larry Hirshberg tells supple stories in the limited spaces allotted by songs just a few minutes long. While not every line drips with the promise of platinum sales, his solo acoustic effort Ice at Home features some genuine gems.

The title track scores with wordplay centered on an engagement ring left behind. The chorus begins “His baby left the ice at home / Maybe the boys will think she’s all alone”—just enough information to put an image in listeners’ heads and enough indirection to make it interesting, all laid out to a memorable melody. The song stays on the folksy side of an album that blends in considerable blues such as the saloon-style “Calendar Blues,” an uplifting tune about the rhetoric and reality of love.

Hirshberg’s skill with the guitar is considerable...