In Arizona, an African American doctor creates street art to heal the Navajo Nation. In São Paulo, a graffiti artist documents the lives of the homeless and working-class. In New Orleans and Chicago, an artist creates a space for people to share dreams. There’s plenty of cool street art out there, but these three artists use walls, thought, and skill to change lives.

Jetsonorama began wheatpasting large-scale photo-collages  in 2009, reports Sarah Gilman for High Country News, after experimenting with photography and small-scale wheatpasting for the two-plus decades he’d served as a physician on a Navajo reservation. His work evolved and last September, as part of 350.org’s EARTH initiative to bring awareness to climate change, the artist wheatpasted giant images of a baby’s face looking up at a cloud-like lump of coal. Writes the artist on his blog:

“everyone i talked with was raised on the reservation. they all identified coal as a cheap source of fuel, especially for the elders. [...] everyone in my small sample identified respiratory problems associated with burning coal in the home. everyone acknowledged that the coal mined on the reservation is used to generate energy off the reservation for surrounding megalopolises such as denver, phoenix, albuquerque, las vegas and l.a. they found this arrangement to be problematic.”

Jetsonorama’s work seeks to heal beyond coal and its effects on individual bodies. Each of his pieces functions as a conversation-starter, creating both dialogue and a source of local pride.

Amidst the rubble of São Paulo Brazil, Bruno Dias celebrates everyday locals, be they homeless, prostitutes, or street vendors. For art nouveau’s Kendrick Daye, Dias’ art “expresses the relationship between physical space and the people of the country.” When the audience begins to recognize a spray-painted image as the homeless man nearby or a face on the wall as a street vendor, we can’t help but wonder what became of those who are not in the photographs near their portraits. In this sense, Dias has discovered a way to document the everyday fates of the oft-overlooked. The artist does not pretend that his portraits begin to solve social quandaries such as homelessness and prostitution, but he does commemorate those most affected by poverty and social struggle.

In post-Katrina New Orleans, artist Candy Chang brought focus back to goals and desires by turning one wall of a decrepit building into a chalkboard. The upper left corner reads “Before I die…” and below it are nearly one hundred places for passers-by to fill in the blank. “Before I die I want to ______________.” Answers range from the daunting, “SEE EQUALITY” to the playful, “Swim w/out holding my nose!” For a city burdened with the task of rebuilding as the rest of the nation scrutinizes, what better to focus on than hopes and dreams for individuals, community, and society?

“Before I die…” is not relevant only to New Orleans, however. Because the work re-centers viewers and creates a forum for local conversation ‒ two things sorely lacking in our plugged-in global network ‒ it seems it would be relevant almost anywhere.  Earlier this month, the piece was installed in Chicago. The space (pictured above) was quickly filled beyond the sanctioned blank lines, reports Christopher Jobson of Colossal. And since Chang created a toolkit allowing installation anywhere, “Before I die…” has popped up in countries such as Mexico, Kazakhstan, and Portugal.  

Radiation City
Cool Nightmare EP
Available April 10, 2012 on Tender Loving Empire

Think about the cold sweat and sinister feeling you have upon waking from a bad dream you can barely recall. It is not the dream itself that terrifies, but the unsettling aura that lingers by the bed. Cool Nightmare, the follow-up EP to the debut album of Portland-based quintet Radiation City, captures the oddities and eeriness of this nighttime gloom with infectious pop hooks and impressive production.

Lizzy Ellison and Cameron Spies, the group’s founders, softly harmonize over light acoustic guitar strums on the opening track, “I Would Hide.” The vulnerable combination could not be more apt, as the two sing, “I would die/ I would hide from the night,” as if resisting sleep is worth not risking an encounter with the demons lurking in the basement of one’s mind. Despite their attempt to avoid the uncertainty that sleep may bring, the band drops into a strange dreamland on the second track, “Hide From The Night.” Drummer Randy Bemrose and bassist Matt Rafferty lay down a smooth bossa nova-esque groove, upon which sparse guitar, twinkling piano and a creeping synth form a landscape of mysterious adventure. Here, the band succeeds in piecing together a quilt of distinct and pleasant pop sections.

“Find It Of Use,” the third track and first single, stands out among the rest, as it seems to capture the essence of Cool Nightmare. Swirling harp plucks and a low-toned guitar doused in reverb give a sense of freewheeling flight over potentially dark grounds. Ellison wastes little time confirming dread when she sings, “Find it of use/ a fine little noose.” The band then dives into a slowed section reminiscent of a subdued and much less soaring “The Great Gig In The Sky.” “Find It Of Use” continues with sensual grooves and vocal hooks that demand multiple listens.

The muse for the sounds on Cool Nightmare, a decrepit and sorry piano, had been collecting dust in Bemrose’s basement for ages. When it came time to record the EP, the band lifted the piano out of retirement for one last hurrah - not only recording the keys, but the knocking and rattling of its entire anatomy. The conclusion of recording left the group with only one logical thing to do: sacrifice the piano to the gods of pop with hammers and baseball bats. Footage of the glorious destruction can be found in the video for “Find It Of Use.” Salvaged piano keys were sold with USB flash drives of the EP on their recent tour.

Radiation City have crafted a fine pop EP, impressive for such a young group. While their instrumentation is commonly found in today’s indie-pop scene, the band manages to make it all their own through recurring, yet interesting chord progressions. Cool Nightmare, however, finishes all too soon. As the bells chime on the closing track, “Hacienda,” you’ll wish the night could hold off the morning just a little bit longer.

Justin Townes Earle
Nothing's Gonna Change the Way You Feel About Me Now
Available now on Bloodshot Records (March 27, 2012)

Whether it’s fair or not, Justin Townes Earle will likely always be compared to his dad. Such is the price when following in the footsteps of a well-respected musician, in this case troubadour Steve Earle.

“Hear my father on the radio/singing take me home again” Earle intones with the first line of “Am I that Lonely Tonight?” his new album’s first song. Not trying to ignore his bloodline, Earle addresses it without leaning on genetics as a crutch on Nothing’s Gonna Change the Way You Feel About Me Now.

Earle sings the lyrics of a world-wise, yet still young man. Over mostly sparse accompaniment, namely his acoustic guitar, an organ here and there and subdued drums, he delivers an album that is straight to the point with no gimmickry or studio tricks. Recorded completely live over four days with no overdubs in a converted Asheville, NC church, the album lets Earle’s voice and writing be star of the show.

 

Co-produced with long with longtime collaborator Skylar Wilson, who puts subtle shades of organ on several numbers, “Change” moves at an unhurried pace, telling tales of longing and heartbreak and the painful realization that impressions made can’t be unmade. But where a song with painful undertones such as the title track could turn into a pity party in the hands of a lesser writer, Earle begins to tell his story, but realizes decisions have been made final.

A piercing steel guitar sets up “It Won’t Be the Last Time,” the disc’s most melancholy number, in which Earle unflinchingly addresses shortcomings and mistakes made as a young man under the influence. The album is not without joy, however. “Baby’s Got a Bad Idea” and “Memphis in the Rain” move right along, propelled by steady drum beats and palpably jaunty vocal deliveries.

Fathers, mothers, cousins, friends and jilted lovers all pass through Earle’s lyrics. He knows as well as anybody it’s easy to disappoint those you love. His 30 years of ramblin’ have “left him wonderin’ if he’s ever learned a thing at all.” But there’s no time to worry he sings in the closer, he’s tryin’ to move on.