quiet magazine

“This song was written before the USDA got their hands on organic standards!” announces the voice booming over the loudspeaker. It’s a Friday night in late April and the attention of the crowd gathered around the outdoor stage at Sylva’s Soul Infusion Bistro is centered on bass player Adam Bigelow.

“And we in no way endorse USDA organic standards!” Bigelow continues. “Buy local from someone you know! We support the Jackson County Farmer’s Market—because we’re for real!”

At six foot four, with a distinctive baritone voice and seemingly permanent smile, Adam Bigelow is one of Jackson County’s most recognizable local musicians. He may also be one of the busiest. Continue reading →

Sylva’s downtown nightlife, such as it is, runs along Main Street, while nearby Mill Street – often referred to, tellingly, as “Back Street,” and currently home to a cobbler, a frame shop, a laundry and a fishmonger – has tended to go dark after business hours. Passersby this spring might be more than a little surprised, then, to suddenly hear the thump of a bass drum or to spot a clutch of college students congregating in front of the matte-black storefront at 561 Mill Street.

Absolem’s Hookah Spot will open on Friday, April 22nd with performances by DJ Sevenstone and Duh!RockBoyz. Right now it’s early April, and I’m sitting on one of the Hookah Spot’s fluorescent-splattered couches talking to the proprietor, Emily Walker, under a blacklight. The nascent venue is a flurry of activity. Two volunteers are remodeling the unisex bathroom in the corner, while another fiddles with a digital camera, taking pictures for the Absolem’s website. Tattooist Robbie Crisp is on his way out the door, having just put the finishing touches on an eight-foot-tall mural of Clint Eastwood on the wall behind the new plywood stage.
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It’s three days before the first show, and Luke Webb is rummaging through a basket of percussion instruments. He hands one to each member of The Imperative—a Tibetan gong for bassist Adam Bigelow, a two-sided brass cocktail jigger for keyboardist Rachel Waterhouse—while Webb himself fingers a brightly decorated recorder.

And then the processional begins. As Bigelow and Waterhouse lock into a chiming, metallic beat and Webb rasps a hoarse drone on his recorder, the musicians pace slowly into the living room before taking up their primary instruments to begin their set.       Continue reading →