A Dime At A Time was the second solo CD from Lorrie Matheson; you can [url=https://lorriematheson.bandcamp.com/album/a-dime-at-a-time]get the download from his bandcamp[/url] and read more about it (courtesy of ffwd) below: [img width=662.484px]//7ca49eb9f67ba1319ef136f9d52cd8b8.cdn.bubble.io/f1765138210903x262607213591044220/richtext_content.jpeg[/img] [h2]For the record[/h2] [h2]Lorrie Matheson sold his albums to make one[/h2] It’s impossible to imagine Calgary iconoclast Lorrie Matheson with nary an Elvis Costello record on the abandoned shelves of his Inglewood home. But alas, the man who graced a Fast Forward cover two years back (looking, as always, like an eerie shadow of Costello in his youth), the man who once sang, “Your aim is still true” in a lyrical reference to his hero, the man whose musical allusions to Costello spike up in the form of jagged-toothed guitar riffs, industrial-strength melodies and that original punk heart has a house full of empty. No, he wasn’t robbed, although his empty record shelves are a crime. “I just took them all, threw them in a box and took them all to the store (Hot Wax, his workplace)and they put them all in the new-today bin,” says Matheson. Somebody comes in and goes ‘Holy fuck! Look at this! Who gave up this?’ and I’m like, ‘Yeah that was mine.’” But surely, Lorrie, you kept your beloved Costello vinyl? “I couldn’t keep any. You know, you start keeping stuff and then you end up with 500 records.” He shrugs when asked how it felt, but after some prodding admits, “It was brutal. I just decided I couldn’t have them both. Do you wanna make records or do you wanna listen to records? So that’s what I did.” Matheson’s first solo release,2002’s You Should Know, cost $20,000 to make. “I remember sitting with it in my hands saying, ‘What have I done?’ In a band, everyone is responsible. And luckily at the end of (Matheson’s last band) National Dust, we still had money and could split it up. We were debt free and made a few bucks at the end of the day — about $1,000 each.” In debt, but with his muse still pounding at the door, he sold the albums and raised enough money for a quality home studio. The result, A Dime at a Time, co-released this week by cool Calgary labels Saved By Radio and Western Famine, does much to salve Matheson’s sacrifice. He makes use of the unlimited takes and hours a home studio affords and of the talents of percussionist Chris Dadge of Bent Spoon Ensemble, who wandered into the songwriter’s life several years ago as a 14-year-old customer with impeccable musical taste. Layers of vocals, textures and instruments might make those more familiar with his other work sit back for a moment, but the melodic stories remain firmly Matheson’s. His goal was to play all the instruments so he could perform the songs live. “The thing that I found about some of the songs on my last record or on National Dust’s ones is I couldn’t play them,” says Matheson. He would tell the band members what he wanted and they would filter it their own instruments. “It got to the point where I couldn’t play them because I was physically incapable of it.” In spite of that experience, Dadge ended up doing most of the percussion work. “I guess I made a compromise in that Chris could play the drums the way I asked him to, and with his immense amount of talent he could put some things in that would complement my ideas,” says Matheson. What? Matheson actually using the word compromise? “It was a compromise between what I wanted the record to sound like and what my pigheadedness was. It’s not like I compromised the music. I can’t play everything because I’m basically not a good drummer.” With numerous years, bands and miles under his belt, Matheson leaves the interview to play a showcase for the Western Canadian Music Awards, still stoic about an industry that forced him to play Sophie’s Choice with his passion. “All this industry stuff and these conferences and all that, I’ve played a handful of them, and I know that nothing that furthers your career comes out of them,” he says. “There’s industry guys in the back that don’t give a fuck, just drinking on company credit cards, and that doesn’t matter because there’s going to be people there who love music. It’s a big show and it’s not a big show for any other reason other than that we get to go out and play.” His final piece of inspiration comes from filmmaker Dick Rude’s Let’s Rock Again!, the Joe Strummer documentary Matheson recently viewed. After 11 years away from the industry, Strummer’s 1999 album lost money for Hellcat/Epitaph Records.“(Here’s) Joe Strummer saying that he’s so grateful they let him do another one. He’s on the boardwalk (in Atlanta) passing out these handmade flyers for the gig, and nobody wants to talk to him. I can’t believe that this guy has to resort to standing on the street.” In that light, selling your records so you can make more records don’t seem so bad.
