Seth music

The sound of a narrowly averted disaster

Seth was born in a muddy field in North Dakota, just after the spring thaw. That in-between time of year when the snow was replaced by thick ankle-deep black mud. He was born dirty and will die in the same condition, no doubt. With no TV in the house, and only sporadic electrical service (Dad's sharecropping was an inconsistent income to say the least), Seth and his seven brothers and sisters had to entertain themselves. So every morning at four, before going out to milk the cows, Seth would play old gospel songs and spirituals on guitar for his family. It was a raw life, and from an early age Seth was familiar with the intricacies of living and the simplicity of dying. There's not a lot he hasn't seen. You can hear it in his playing, in his no-frills voice; you can see it his happy but world-weary eyes. Seth is fascinated by the religious and popular cultures he abhors. He is a folksinger and composer, a poet and a vaudevillian. He is obsessed with creating art, but unconcerned with whether what he is doing is high or low art. Seth stands on the fence, stealing pies from the windowsills on both sides. And he has no plans to get down, come inside and take it easy. With the precision rhythm section of Dan Gottesman on drums and Greg Nergaard on bass, Seth brings together elements of Latin music, jazz, punk, funk, devo (is that a style?) with the rural, blue collar love of simple songs with guitars that sound like there's a hole in the amp speakers. The music is agitating and alluring, and the lyrics slide back and forth between the external world of the physical and the internal world of the spiritual. Seth is on a dark journey, but it is a journey you’ll not only be glad you came along for, you’ll be humming it on the other side.

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