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Alela Diane & Ryan Francesconi – Tickets – Revolution Hall – Portland, OR – October 17th, 2015

Alela Diane & Ryan Francesconi

Revolution Hall & OPBMUSIC Present the “Cold Moon” album release show

Alela Diane & Ryan Francesconi

Damien Jurado

Sat, October 17, 2015

Doors: 8:00 pm / Show: 9:00 pm

$18 ADV / $20 DOS

This show is Fully Seated & General Admission 

Alela Diane & Ryan Francesconi
Alela Diane & Ryan Francesconi
Singer/songwriter Alela Diane and guitarist Ryan Francesconi have uniquely collaborated to create Cold Moon. The two musicians talked at a friend’s show in October 2014, chatting about how they were both experiencing creative standstills. Ryan was lacking inspiration to make more instrumental music, and Alela was at a loss for how to dive into writing a new record after the birth of her daughter. A few days later, Ryan asked Alela if she would be into collaborating and then sent her several recordings of intricate, beautiful guitar pieces. Alela listened on repeat while staring out the window at the changing leaves, initially unsure how to sing even a note over what she heard. Eventually, something clicked. Words came first, and with words, melody followed. Throughout the winter, Alela made trips across town to Ryan’s house to woodshed the songs over cups of tea. Before they knew it, they had a record--a collaboration of voice and guitar with intangible moods and resonances--a collection that calls you to reflect and be hopeful.

A wintry music born in December. And so rose the Cold Moon.

Alela Diane is a critically-acclaimed singer/songwriter from Nevada City, CA currently living in Portland, Oregon. She’s released four albums including “The Pirate’s Gospel” in 2007, “To Be Still” in 2009, “Wild Divine” in 2011 and “About Farewell” in 2013.

Ryan Francesconi is a composer, guitarist, balkan musician, programmer, and cyclist living in Portland, Oregon. Recent projects include arranging Joanna Newsom's "Have One On Me", a solo guitar record "Parables", and "Road To Palios" - his latest album of duets with Mirabai Peart released by Bella Union.
Damien Jurado
Damien Jurado
Spend any amount of time with Damien Jurado and he’s going to talk with you about movies. Speaking about the films that influenced his 14th album, the solitary masterwork In the Shape of a Storm, Jurado tosses out a list of favorites—American Graffiti, Paris, Texas, The Last Picture Show—films in which settings serve as silent, omniscient characters. But inquire about the curious way he writes songs, the hazy manner by which he seems to channel them from beyond the beyond, and the cinematic reference point he reaches for is a surprising one. “You ever see that movie Ghost? Whoopi Goldberg’s character, Oda Mae Brown—that’s who I am. These spirits are showing up at her door, jumping into her body. That’s how I feel. I don’t know what’s coming out of me…I just show up and deliver it.”

For more than two decades, Jurado has sung folk songs brimming with prophetic imagination. Whether singing ballads about killers, wounded lovers, UFO cults, or yes, the phantoms of departed friends, he’s populated his work with eerie foretelling, the sense that he’s divining something just on the verge of happening. He wrote his last record, 2018’s The Horizon Just Laughed as a goodbye letter to his home of Seattle, Washington, before he’d even decided to leave there for sunny Los Angeles. And while he recorded the ten songs featured on In the Shape of a Storm months before the passing of his longtime collaborator and close friend Richard Swift, it’s no coincidence that Swift’s death looms over the album. “His absence is very much felt on this record,” Jurado says.

Damien has always worked fast, but In the Shape of a Storm came together with unprecedented speed. Recorded over the course of two hours one California afternoon, it’s Jurado’s sparsest album to date. Gone are the thundering drums and psychedelic arrangements that defined the trilogy of concept albums he made with Swift. Gone even is the atmospheric air that hovered above his early albums for Sub Pop. Here, there’s only Jurado’s voice, acoustic guitar, and occasional accompaniment from Josh Gordon, playing a high-strung guitar tuned Nashville style, rendering its sound spooky and celestial. Though fans have long requested a solo acoustic album, the prospect never made sense to Jurado, until one day it simply did. “It just felt like it was time,” Jurado says. The idea of an unadorned album became its own medium in his mind, like a painter who sets down his brushes and instead opts for charcoal pencils instead.

“There is nothing left to hide,” Jurado sings on “Lincoln,” which opens the record. It’s something of a thesis statement for these songs. Everything here is clear and laid bare, two-tone, like the drawing Jurado crafted for the record’s cover. Originally written for 2000’s The Ghost of David, “Lincoln” was shelved and forgotten about until Damien came across it on an old cassette tape. The discovery inspired him to go about gathering up songs that had never found proper homes. As a result, In the Shape of a Storm is like an archive of previously abandoned songs. And yet, despite their disparate nature, Jurado’s visions hang together in curiously symmetrical ways: the moon shines in both the echo-drenched “Silver Ball” and closer “Hands on the Table”; rain ties the title song to the lilting “Oh Weather.” Jurado repeatedly returns to oceanic poetry—waves, tides, and shores—and to the theme of anchors, the metaphorical ones we use to tether ourselves to the sea floor and to each other. These are songs about the enormity of the unknown — the shape of storms that threaten to swallow us whole— and above all, they are songs about the connections that keep us from drifting away. “We are not meant to be on our own,” Jurado sings on “Throw Me Now Your Arms.”

Damien Jurado’s discography is filled with songs written as miniature movies, cinematic vignettes that capture people, the places they are from, and where they are going. In the Shape of a Storm is his first black and white picture. It’s both a snapshot of two hours in a California recording studio and a document spanning 19 years and a life of music. It is the sound of a singer pouring out possible futures and visions. “I believe songs have their own time and place,” Jurado says. For these ten, that time has finally come.