Category: News

Welles Unveils Groovy Surprise EP ‘Non-Essential Business’

Knowing Jesse Wells, he probably didn’t realize how much he was making our week. Maybe our whole month, whatever month it is. Right when the world really needed a pick-me-up, Welles unveiled a funky new EP on Bandcamp entitled Non-Essential Business. There was seemingly no advance notice aside from a photo on the eve of its release: Jesse in his high school (Ozark, Arkansas) jersey and a polka-dot scarf tied like a cape, grinning with his guitar at the ready. “I’m puttin out an EP tomorrow,” he announced in the caption. “5 surreal jazz funk tracks are called NON-ESSENTIAL BUSINESS. I never do this shit cus well whatevs, but if we keep locked in like this, I’ll keep releasing the b.s. I normally make for me and my close ones. Get excited it BLOWS.” No surprise here: it does not blow. On the contrary, it’s that special kind of underground music that is so damn catchy, you want to make sure your friends hear it.

Being big fans, we had to ask Jesse for some more background on the five snazzy tracks that make up Non-Essential Business. “I am, like everyone else, bored,” he told P&W. “So I picked up harmonica and started listenin’ to Sly Stone and Bitches Brew [Miles Davis] and watched where it went.” When asked how long he’s been playing jazz/funk, he replied, “Got the Mothership Connection [Parliament] at a garage sale in the 9th grade. Grew up playing in jazz bands in high school through college. Quasi jazz. White boy jazz. Still don’t know how to improvise from that perspective. I’m feeling around in a dark room, but I found a wall to lean against.”

Getting surprise new music mid-pandemic is a unique treat, but this jazzy chill pill of an EP would be exciting anytime. We should have seen it coming – during our last interview backstage at Mercury Lounge last year, Jesse teased, “I want to put out more music – a tune a day is what I want to try for – while I’m at home.” Right after that, he happened to add, “I didn’t get to hear King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard until they had several albums out, and I finally caught ‘em with I’m In Your Mind Fuzz and I was just sucked in. I’d love to get on the road with ol’ Stu.” This made us wonder if we’d hear any Gizzard vibes sneaking into future Welles music, and Non-Essential Business has now answered that question (check out KGATLW’s Paper Mâché Dream Balloon and Sketches of Brunswick East). We wouldn’t change a thing about the pure classic rock sound Welles achieved on his 2018 debut album, Red Trees and White Trashes. Even so, it’s a thrill to hear him branch out wildly with such finesse, especially as he layers over himself in this D.I.Y. format.

Opening song “No Time to Pout” is a syncopated trip that stalls in all the sweet spots. The way he delivers the chorus, “So what are you crying about? Ain’t got no time to pout,” is motivating even in a time when tears are justifiable. The tough love turns into tender love with next track “Treat Your Self Well.” The well-timed reminder surfaces within a groove that goes with the getaway car in a foxy cult crime movie. Amid all the jazz funk attitude, he simultaneously finds that feel-good sixties-rock coolness that defines past Welles hits (listen to “Are You Feeling Like Me” and “Life Like Mine”). This is really noticeable in the extra-sticky “Don’t Go Changing,” a mood-altering hit that keeps building and resolving in satisfying ways. His self-harmonizing in the chorus sounds like the best part of another era, and the song also features a spoken-word taste of his easygoing personality. In a tone of voice reminiscent of Mitch Hedberg, Welles takes on the “bad people” who “love to just screw your head into the ground, man” with a timeless “fuck ‘em.” 

The positive energy carries on through “Everybody’s Got a Little Bit (Even If They Don’t Wanna Admit),” an unhurried jam with some serious lyrical flow. “From the bird in the sky / to the worm in the ground / Tell ‘em all what you heard at the fountain of sound / And tell ‘em all real loud / so they’ll hear it in the back / They can steal your sound / you just make another track” he sings. Beneath that smooth poetry, his titular line, “Everybody’s got a little bit / even if they don’t wanna admit” continues softly. Final song “Thankful” – which begins and ends with some old-school “ah, ah, ah, oww!”s right out of his soul – leaves a valuable message looping in your head. “Let’s be thankful for the things we’ve got / even if we ain’t got a lot” Welles urges over a glimmering bass line. And with tunes as fresh as these, thankful is exactly how we feel.

Welles Unveils Groovy Surprise EP ‘Non-Essential Business’, By Olivia Isenhart, April 13, 2020
https://www.pancakesandwhiskey.com/2020/04/13/welles-non-essential-business/

Wells has rock ’n’ roll history behind him

For a ride-or-die rocker like Jesse Wells, the prospect of his beloved genre no longer being the dominant one is hardly reason to worry. “I’ve got all of rock and roll history behind me,” the Arkansas-born singer-guitarist said of forces working on his behalf. “All of it. Us rock and rollers getting to live right now, we get to strive to be the culmination of everything that’s already happened and literally just be a walking jukebox of all these splendid tunes from yesteryear. I want every single gesture of mine to be pure rock and roll to the point where it’s as natural as breathing.”

The musician who performs as Welles, and headlines Schubas on Wednesday, is well on his way: from his equal-parts moody and melodic songs resembling a master class on the evolution of rock music in the 20th century — think poetic Bob Dylan-style lyrics, buzzing Zeppelin grooves, and gnarly Kurt Cobain vocal angst — to even the mellowed-out manner in which he speaks. It’s as if the 24-year old was born in a run-down rock club green room.

“I’m in it for the long haul,” he said without hesitation when calling from his adopted hometown of Nashville as he gazed out the window on a rainy day, sipped on a cup of coffee and observed “all the fat squirrels” scampering through his backyard. “Despite admitting the unstable nature of the profession, and more specifically the financial pressures of being an up-and-coming rock musician in 2019, has Wells “existing in a permanent state of vague uneasiness,” “what I definitely know is this is going to be my career. Because it compels me more than I compel it. I feel like this is what I must do.”

Wells says he made the decision to be a musician early on as a child growing up in his native, small-town Ozark, Ark. He remembers recording music off the radio straight to cassette tape, digging into Beatles albums like the copy of “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” his grandfather gifted him at age 10 and, as he got older and began writing his own songs, dreaming of playing gigs at roadside bars in nearby Fayetteville. In 2015, after being discovered by his now-manager, he made his first trip to Nashville and was quickly shuttled into recording sessions with acclaimed producer Dave Cobb (Chris Stapleton, Sturgill Simpson) at his Low Country Sound studio, formerly RCA’s famed Studio A, some of which tracks ended up comprising Welles’ breakout debut LP, last year’s “Red Trees and White Trashes.”

Back then, having yet to gain his confidence in the studio and fearing his musical dream might suddenly end, Wells admits he was hesitant to speak up on matters of creativity. “There was a lot of humility than went into it,” he said now. “Knowing it’s either this or Arkansas you do what they tell ya.” But having since recorded and released wise-beyond-his-years songs like “Seventeen,” a translation of a poem he wrote years before about gender fluidity, he’s gained a new found confidence. “Now when I write a tune and I send it to my manager or the record label it’s done,” Wells explained. “If anything my output may be a bit less but when there is a song and I do write a song it’s much more well-done than it used to be.”

Despite his lifelong affection for rock music, Wells doesn’t pretend to be naive about the genre’s current state of affairs. “Rock and roll is not on the radio. Very simple,” he said. “It’s just not. It’s like going to the dump and saying, “Where are the flowers?” You showed up to the wrong place.” It’s all the more reason, he added, for he and his band to be pounding the pavement and gigging as often as possible. “It’s a tale as old as time: you go from town to town and you make sure you put on the best rock and roll show you possibly can and maybe they’ll come back” he offered by way of explanation for why he’s begging his booking agents to get him on the road more often. “I’m just crying out loud for tours. ‘Cause I reckon the best way to break a rock and roll band would be 200 shows a year and then you stop and assess. I don’t think my fans are stuck in their phones. The real rock and roll fans go out to shows.”

Having opened for a wide array of bands in recent years, from Royal Blood to Greta Van Fleet and even those like the Regrettes who cater to a decidedly younger audience (“We show up and I’m in Dickeys and have a mustache and boots and we’ve got these 11-18 year’s old just sitting there staring at us like “Oh my god!””) Wells said he’s ecstatic to finally be headed out on a headlining tour.

“I feel like I can be myself a bit more,” he said.

Still, what Wells said makes him happiest is that intense creative satisfaction he receives whenever he straps on his guitar, summons the energy of his rock heroes and, with every new song he writes, charts his own musical course. “When you listen to my stuff I want you to go, “This is Lennon, this is Dylan, this is Bowie, this is Cobain,”” Welles said. “Rock and roll is very much alive.”

Wells has rock ’n’ roll history behind him, By Dan Hyman
https://digitaledition.chicagotribune.com/tribune/article_popover.aspx?guid=dbf1c9c9-22df-452c-bd98-17168aeb2f30

Backstage With Welles: ‘Any Kid Can Make Rock & Roll”

Jesse Wells is the coolest paradox. The music of Welles is an intense storm of sound and emotion that steals all your attention, and the guy behind it is almost exactly the opposite – quiet, supremely relaxed, always a few words away from a joke, but just as happy to blend into the crowd and disappear if he can. When we caught up at Mercury Lounge before his latest NYC tour stop, Jesse was all smiles, wearing a mechanic-type suit (that would later be swapped out for jeans and a plain shirt for the show), his hair like a fortress around his shoulders as he led me downstairs. It was still hours before their set, and the whole underground space was empty, but he spoke at such a whisper that the subtle hum of the city above was suddenly competing.

I asked him something I’d wondered the times I’d seen him tear up some stages: what exactly is going through his head when he’s on stage creating such powerful music? If you’ve ever witnessed the scorching, shred-heavy magic of Welles’ live presence, his answer is probably not what you’d expect. “Trying to keep it light,” Jesse said without hesitation. “Honestly. A lot of times we’ll get done with ‘Seventeen’ and I’ll just say, ‘Wow, that was dramatic. Thanks for hanging on!’” he laughed, “and we’ll do the next thing. The tunes are so heavy that there’s absolutely no sense in brooding around. We’ve had twenty, thirty years of brooding, angry white males with long hair looking all hungover onstage, and it’s boring. I used to do stand-up and stuff back in Arkansas and I prefer to keep it light and tell a few jokes, and see if they can’t laugh. Nice and dry and fun; lighthearted, yeah. That’s what’s running through my head is like, ‘How can I even this out?” That’s exactly what happened later on, his straight-faced one-liners – like “When I was a kid, I had a dirt bike until my dad washed it” – stirring up laughter between Welles’ satisfying doses of adrenalizing rock.

Jesse elaborated on his point-of-view from the stage. “Sometimes, the words flow without thinking, and you nail it; and then other times, honestly, depending on the energy of the crowd, it’s a grind to get through. I’m not very excitable, but I am nervous,” he said openly. “I just avoid showing it. I’m vulnerable enough with all these tunes and these lyrics – I don’t want to give up any more than that. So I’ll play it cool; tell a few jokes and stuff.” Given the impact of his hard-rocking debut album, Red Trees and White Trashes, on the music world last year, I was curious if he had been back to his hometown of Ozark, Arkansas – which inspired the record – since it had been released. He had, and the reaction he received was right up his alley. “I think the people that knew me from the scene down there – like the guys who run the old radio station over there, and the venue and production guys and stuff like that – they remember me. And I see a post every once in a while on Facebook or something that they’re proud or whatever. But I don’t come back to mass adulation or anything, and honestly, I’m thankful for that, because that would be incredibly awkward to come back to my hometown and be treated differently than I was in high school. I’m still just the weird kid in town,” Jesse said contentedly.

“Any kid can make rock and roll, and it’s just so important that everybody knows that. It’s very important. It’s just…I don’t think that the way we live at the moment, the way the majority of us live, is very conducive to it. We don’t live very analog. And so if I could champion anything, it’s a more analog existence; one that does not care what is going on on the phone, or online, or anything like that. I’m somebody who can live in the moment and show people that it’s perfectly fine, and in fact, you’ll find yourself a lot more satisfied if you do. And I think that rock and roll is something that’s very much in the moment. And it requires your friends,” he grinned. “To start a band.” In fact, when asked if he could pass along anything at all to his listeners, Jesse said simply, “Go start a band. Get on it. You’ve already waited too long.”

On that topic, it was interesting to hear how he and his bandmates like to burn time on the road. “Last tour, I picked up a little 8-track recorder in Houston, Texas, and recorded the rest of the tour just in the backseat,” recalled Jesse. “It ran on batteries, so I got to learn how to use an 8-track, and then also record a bunch of tunes on it. Those were just kind of sound experiments, sound projects and stuff like that. I don’t think that we would ever hear any of that on a record. I don’t write a lot of music on the road, just poems and little stanzas and things like that, here and there. Sometimes a joke or two, because it’s just the four of us guys always hanging out and stuff, and we just laugh every day. We laugh all damn day. But what we have been doing is supplementing the set with songs that I’ve written since the album. Songs that may not have been necessarily approved for the next album, but I really believe in them and I’ll play them until I’m asked not to.” As promised, we were later treated to four killer new songs that did not appear on his latest record.

“There for a little while on the last tour, we were actually recording songs in the van,” Jesse added, describing how they pieced things together with a laptop and his phone. “We were tracking. I was sitting in the backseat with a bass guitar, or you know, with an electric guitar and I would record that. Then I’d stick the headphones on and record voice memos with the tune, and then send him the voice memos, and then he would mix them into the track, and that’s all we would do. And we didn’t have a microphone on us, so we just used the iPhone one. So we get to be creative in that way… The way I try to look at it is, by the time it’s time to record the next record, hopefully I have ten new songs. But if I was able to record a new record tomorrow, I would. And if we could do one the next day, we’d do another the next day. And if there was a third day to do it, then we’d record a third album. I mean, that’s all I want to do is put out music. I’m sitting on a lot of stuff that’s not necessarily earth-shattering, but it’s music all the same. And I think that our attention spans have been vastly diminished by scrolling through our phones constantly. And folks are in luck; I can cater to that. There’s a lot of tunes. You can hit it and quit it and go to the next one for all I care, just so long as I’m proliferating music – just getting it out there.”

This took me back to a memorable moment from our last interview, when Jesse described all the suitcases full of notebooks and hard drives full of ideas he had lying dormant, having written songs constantly since he was 12. He’s still “just piling it on,” as he put it. “I was actually fortunate enough to pull the old computer out of the attic and save 11 gigabytes worth of MP3 files from the years before onto an external hard drive. It took about 11 hours to do it, the computer was so slow. And as soon as I did that, it blue-screened and crashed. So that’s gone, but I saved it – I got it all. It was like 339 tunes, I think,” he said, confirming that they’re all unreleased. “There’s a ton of trash in there, but it’s my trash. And I still have all my old notebooks too.” We dove into the mechanics of his songwriting process. “The melodies will compel me to record, but there are always poems written and lyrics ready and set aside, so that whenever I do catch a melody in it – and you literally catch it – it’s out of the blue and then you have it. Then you can go and apply some of your lyrics to it, or write brand new ones.

“The songs get written in all different ways; there are songs that I’ll sit down and write on an acoustic guitar, like ‘Summer.’ I sit down with an acoustic guitar, and just as naturally as breathing, there’s your tune. And then you write the first few stanzas, and then figure out the tune for it, and then write a couple more, and then boom: there’s the song. The idea for that one [came first]. It was all about a big house party that I had gone to that just went haywire, but it was beautiful, you know? Just trashy.” he reminisced. “Other tunes start with a riff or a chord progression; ‘Codeine,’ for instance. I had just come off of that crap, and woke up just hot to trot and had quite a bit of coffee, and recorded that progression and then stepped out on the porch and had a cigarette or two, and then” – he made a fast noise akin to bullets firing – “wrote the lyrics, and then went in and laid down the vocal track, out of necessity.”

Given how clearly and completely the songs tend to hit him, I wondered if the final versions pressed into wax ever differ from his original recordings. “The production definitely does. My personal production is very different than what goes on in the studio,” Jesse said. “But other than that, the structure of the tunes more or less stays the same; maybe a little change here or there, but more or less is the same. There are tunes like ‘Rock N Roll’ where I went out and had coffee with my mom, and [wrote it] on the way back home. It took about five minutes to get home; I bolted up the stairs, and it was already done in my head. I ran down the lyrics, and what had I been listening to lately? I’d gotten ahold of The Slider by T. Rex (1972), and it was the first time I’d heard it, so I was incredibly blown away by it. So I said, ‘I’m incredibly inspired by this tune. I’ll do my best Slider, and then I’ll toss these lyrics on top of it.”

That honesty had impressed me on several occasions; Jesse’s never afraid to disclose the origins of his ideas, even if they’re rooted in someone else’s material – unlike so many artists who conceal such details. “I think it’s so exciting…” he took a deep breath mid-sentence, real exhilaration seeping through, “…and just gets me out of bed. I live at the peak of the culmination of all rock and roll. We have 50-60 years of rock and roll behind us, and I get to draw from all of it. And why not say, ‘I got this from that, and this from that, and this from that’? Because I did. Whether I want to admit or not or whether anyone else wants to admit it or not. You did. So we live with all of it. We’re blessed. The thing is, Cobain only had like…Lennon, and Bowie, and Dylan, and then some ‘80s artists that I’m not as familiar with. I get Cobain and Lennon, you know?” he said excitedly. “Why not use everything?”

Jesse was equally forthright about other aspects of the production process. “‘Rock N Roll,’ you know, the entire original chorus for it got ripped out, and I put something a bit simpler and grungier in, because I was advised and steered in that direction. I was challenged to write a more digestible chorus. So I spitballed a couple out there and one stuck.” I couldn’t help but ask if that kind of guidance bothered him, and he responded pleasantly in his still-hushed voice. “I don’t really work with anybody else in the demoing process whenever I’m doing it. I really do prefer to be alone – very alone – to do those sorts of things. I prefer not to have anybody around. But I think it’s probably more difficult for the people who ask me to change it. It’s more difficult for them than it is for me, because it’s like pulling teeth, and I have a lot of retorts, and a lot of smartass remarks as to why it’s perfect the way I did it – but it’s not fuckin’ perfect, and it doesn’t matter. You can’t eat a song. I’m trying to make a penny if at all possible,” he said, dipping into a funny tone on the topic of surviving. “And what’s better than being highly adaptable? I think that makes for a lot better artist.”

“I want to put out more music – a tune a day is what I want to try for – while I’m at home,” he said, listing the other artists who inspire him without being prompted. “I didn’t get to hear Mac DeMarco until his album had already been out a year, and then I was his biggest fan. I didn’t get to hear King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard until they had several albums out, and I finally caught ‘em with I’m In Your Mind Fuzz and I was just sucked in. I’d love to get on the road with ol’ Stu,” Jesse said (the altered beast within me screaming), affirming that he enjoys the full spectrum of rock in his free time. “I listen to a lot of Ty Segall for production tricks and stuff like that. I think he’s a studio wizard, and I love his DIY approach. I love King Gizzard’s DIY approach and that definitely goes into my personal demos. As far as songwriting goes, it’s still candy pop from the ‘60s; it’s The Association, The Cowsills, The Beach Boys, The Beatles, and all that stuff. ‘Cause I just feel like, the art of the song; that’s really where it’s at. I think those are the peak forms of songs.”

Thinking of the way the music hits him, I asked where he felt most at peace to be able to write a song. “All around,” he said with a very relaxed expression. “A mix of both indoor and outdoor. I need to be able to step inside, of course, to record. But I’ll tell you what I need: I need the morning. I need the morning, because that’s when I work the best, between nine and eleven a.m. I’m just a cat that sits upright at like six am and is like ‘Christ! I’m still alive – now what?’ And I prefer my evenings to listen over whatever I’ve recorded and hang out with friends and stuff like that. But I need the morning. And a cup of coffee… The hardest part of touring is probably the anxiety; you’re just sitting in a van six to seven to eight to fourteen hours a day and you’re kind of stuck with your own thoughts, and you’re just bouncing between you and the screen and you know, you teach your mind to scroll, and then all of a sudden, you’re scrolling through your own thoughts – that’s no way to think.” Even with modern issues like these, Jesse greatly values how easy it is to put out music in this era. “I know there were a lot of brilliant bands in the ‘60s and ‘70s that simply didn’t have the means to record. I think of the people that I grew up around who taught me things on guitar and stuff back in Ozark, they were all in bands, and I can’t buy a single album of theirs, and they don’t even have a recording of their band, you know? And they played all through the ‘60s and ‘70s together in the bar scenes around there. Now – is it so inundated and saturated that your shit will inevitably probably not get listened to? Yuuup,” he said without a care in the world.

“We’re gonna jump in the studio here before too long, so ideally, there will be music released ASAP.” When I asked if that meant this year, Jesse said, “Hopefully, man! Hopefully. I had this idea for this Hell’s Welles, part one and part two – the first part is the softer and more Beatles-y tunes that I do, and then the second part is just a complete tear-down rip-out, just straight from the depths of hell; whatever I can summon up. And yeah, a freakin’ double LP is what I was shooting for. Now, is that gonna come to fruition? I don’t have high hopes for that. But that doesn’t mean I won’t try to die on that hill, because rock & roll belongs in albums. I know that singles make people more money and things like that, but rock & roll belongs in albums. I can’t think of my favorite rock & roll band’s EP.” Surprising me once more, he revealed another new concept that I never would have guessed.

“I’m also writing an album of ads for all the favorite things that I use. So I’ve written one for Sk8-Hi Pros Vans shoes; the label hooked me up with a couple pairs of those, and I hadn’t worn a tennis shoe in like seven years, and I put ‘em on and I was just like ‘Whoa…I’m quick. I’m agile,” he laughed. “And I’ve got one for this Casio Alarm Chrono watch,” he showed me the one on his wrist. “I like this watch. I’ve got one for Pall Mall cigarettes too.” When asked if he would ever pitch these songs as real ads and what he had planned, he replied matter-of-factly, “It’s a Lennon fetish. He garnered a lot of ideas and notions from the ads around him, and why would you not? They’re literally created to be earworms and to psychologically impact the public. So I’ll throw mine in – I’ll have a go at that. I enjoy it,” Jesse said, flashing another smile. “I enjoy making music and it takes the pressure off of it, because it’s not about me. It’s about the product, and it’s about making pop tunes; artfully-constructed pop tunes. I think, sometimes, people only like me when I’m bleeding, and I’m not always bleeding. Sometimes, I feel absolutely fantastic, and I want to tell people about my goddamned shoes.”

Backstage With Welles: ‘Any Kid Can Make Rock & Roll”, By Olivia Isenhart, February 25, 2019
https://www.pancakesandwhiskey.com/2019/02/25/backstage-with-welles-any-kid-can-make-rock-roll/

Jesse Wells Talks New Welles Album, ‘Red Trees and White Trashes’

“People pretty up the guitar too much.” Jesse Wells opens up about Welles’ superlative debut album.

“People pretty up the guitar too much,” says singer-songwriter-guitarist Jesse Wells. “I kind of fight when I play, and I want people to hear that struggle of my fingers getting gnawed up on the fretboard. I like to use amp overdrive to get a warm guitar buzz, and sometimes I’ll go straight into the board and crank it. When the guitar sounds big and fuzzy, I know it’s right.”

“Big and fuzzy” is an accurate description of the sound Wells and his band — simply called Welles — make on their superlative debut album, Red Trees and White Trashes. The guitarist, having been raised on a steady diet of early Led Zeppelin and stoner rock, played in a succession of outfits in his hometown of Fayetteville, Arkansas, but it wasn’t until he moved to Nashville that he found a group of players (guitarist Marshall Willard, bassist Davey Nelson and drummer Jordan Rochefort) who shared his gritty sonic vision. Even so, it took some effort. “Nashville is full of great musicians,” he says. “I had to look hard to find guys who wanted to play music that’s a little rough around the edges.”

In Nashville, Wells and his band recorded the bulk of Red Trees and White Trashes with producers Beau Boggs and Bobby Emmett, but he also worked with multiple Grammy award winner Dave Cobb on three tracks. One highlight of their creative collaboration is the heartbreaking grunge-rock anthem, “Seventeen.”

“Dave and I hit it off immediately,” Wells says. “He got the Nirvana and Melvins vibe I was going for, but we also bonded over the White Album and [John Lennon’s] Plastic Ono Band record. We were totally in sync the whole time.”

Wells admits he gets a little out-there and psychedelic when playing leads, and he credits Cobb with never putting the brakes on him. “Dave just let me roam free, which was cool,” he says. “I would love to be a better improviser, so that’s a goal of mine. Every time I pick up the guitar is another chance to play something awesome. Whether or not it makes sense is another matter altogether.”

What Fans of Welles Should Know: ‘You Don’t Have To Worry’

It wasn’t a rap at first,” he joked. “When I wrote it, it was about twenty clicks slower, so all those words were just real smooth and easygoing, you know?” Then something special happened; Jesse Wells started singing. It’s rare that a phone interview turns into a private concert, but there they were, the opening words to “Life Like Mine” – “I caught a sermon on the mount of Fairy Hill, in a Mercury or a Lincoln, I can’t see it” – warmly, at half the tempo, resonating even on our fuzzy connection between Nashville and NYC. The demonstration came unexpectedly while Wells was explaining the story behind the lyrics; the very first thing we discussed, since the verses and stories that make up Welles’ pure-rock debut album, Red Trees and White Trashes, are so compelling and primed for dissection.

Given the intensity of Welles’ music, it’s no surprise that their eponymous (minus an e) frontman is a thoughtful and no-nonsense storyteller. Wells’ description of the song’s meaning went from funny retelling to deep self-analysis at an amazing pace. “There is actually a location in Fayetteville, Arkansas called Fairy Hill. I got into a fight with a very good friend of mine on Fairy Hill. It was about 2am and he came to pick me up from my band’s house. We had just played a show that evening, so adrenaline was still high, and we were out having fun, but I just kept thinking, ‘Man, he piled me into a Mercury, or a Lincoln, I can’t see it!’ I remember just sitting in a big bench seat and then, ‘I caught a sermon’: That’s me trying to remember everything I heard from my buddy that evening. ‘I was heaving on a handful of bitter pills’: that’s just the truth, and that’s just kind of where I was when I was 19 or 20. I was just incredibly angry, and heaving on it. I would not accept truth, and that life isn’t fair, and things like that. I still don’t. Like, I threw a huge fit at Walmart earlier today,” Wells recalled with a laugh, “‘cause it was taking too long. When things aren’t fair and when justice isn’t happening, it’s always torn me down, since I was a little kid. Sometimes, just the little lessons, I learned the hard way – the really hard way. Just wait in line, and stuff like that. Wait your turn. Bitter pills; life isn’t fair. So, I’ve been heaving on those my whole life.” Somehow, we’d skipped all the basics and gone straight into his soul, as was often the experience when speaking with Jesse Wells.

Just like when we first interviewed Welles at Governors Ball last summer – back when the band was only four weeks old – his answers were incisive and extremely down-to-earth. And while some songwriters are more reticent about the origins of their lyrics, Wells was more than comfortable quantifying how much of his music is based upon his real life. “I would say…most of it,” he said after a thoughtful pause. “Most of it is just, straight up, my experiences. If we really think about it,” he said, listing off examples. “‘Codeine’ – definitely autobiographical. ‘Life Like Mine’ – definitely autobiographical. ‘Are You Feeling Like Me’ – oh for sure. ‘Hold Me Like I’m Leaving’ too.” Even as the lyrics of Red Trees and White Trashes shed so much light on his background, there are still small misconceptions about him perpetuated by the media – some that he’s found somewhat mystifying, including the backstory of him writing music in an art commune. “Commune’s a bit of a strong word, but people have adopted that and are using it quite a lot,” Wells said bemusedly. “Honestly, it was a derelict apartment complex. If we just look at it objectively, it was just a real run-down, torn-up apartment complex that we all lived in. And that’s what I always thought of it as. I never thought of it as a freaking art compound. That’s what people assume; they love it! But me and my friends are just laughing about it. It wasn’t like some fucking warehouse or anything. We had an entire apartment building to ourselves. And there were only two rooms that had been renovated and were considered actually livable. Those were the two rooms we paid for, but we had access to the entire building. So yeah, we had some squatters. We set up art galleries and had some rock and roll shows and stuff like that. But ‘compound’ makes it sound like there’s some literature that goes with that…you know?” Wells laughed. “Like, I was a shaman who was only sexually active on Wednesdays, and I could write rock and roll tunes; that was my job,” he joked. “Yeah seriously, we all had fucking jobs, we were all broke as hell, and we were just trying to make stuff work. We were just living amongst one another and together, which is just called ‘community.’”

Having fallen in love with people like David Bowie, Marc Bolan, John Lennon, Lou Reed, and Bob Dylan at a young age, Wells acknowledged how growing up isolated from a real music scene made him study the craft more fervently. “You had to dig harder, and you appreciated what you dug up a lot more. So, maybe you only had one Velvet Underground album and it didn’t even have the tunes you knew… but you knew you really liked ‘em, you’d heard ‘em somewhere… so you rent it from the library, you take it home, and you put it on a cassette tape. And that is your Velvet Underground album. Guaranteed, no one else in the fucking school has one, you know?” He had the tone of an archaeologist describing a treasured artifact. “And the internet was kind of fresh in Ozark,” Wells laughed. “Especially for me – I didn’t grow up wealthy at all. To call it middle class might make some middle class people call themselves high class. We got the internet in like 2011.” Conversely, later on – as tactfully as possible – he also noted some music that doesn’t agree with him. “The synthetic stuff; even the production of 80s music has always kind of wound me up and ground me out,” he revealed. “I can’t listen to it. Or, I don’t like to. But there’s a lot of rap and hip-hop that I’ve found later on in my life.”

Wells’ strong affinity for unprocessed rock surely played a role in the raw studio sound he achieved on Red Trees and White Trashes – all the more impressive, given the background he shared about the record. “When we made the album, I had not met any of those fellas yet. So I hadn’t met anybody in the band at that point. All I had was the demos that were recorded up there at the mountain. And they hired studio musicians that I’d never met before. But it was just like, ‘Hey. Jesse. These guys are gonna be the best of the best, so don’t you worry,’” he remembered happily. “I really wasn’t incredibly involved in that part. And listen, when I met [producer] Dave Cobb, I went home and wrote a country album! And then I came back, and they were like ‘No no no no no, you can just do rock and roll, like you were doing,’ and I was like ‘Ohh okay.’” Wells laughed. “I’m about the music. I saw an opportunity and I was gonna seize it. Luckily, I was able to be myself. But I would have found myself, you know? I’m confident that I can find myself in whatever I gotta do,” he said. “But I went in with session musicians – you know, they only need to listen to the demo once. These are incredible players, and they have a very sharp wit. I just went in and played guitar and those guys played on my tracks.” As expected, he would have preferred it if his current lineup had played on the first album, but that’s not how the timeline worked out. “That would be ideal for most people. But I didn’t meet Davey [Nelson] or Marshall [Willard] or Jordan [Rochefort, his live band] until I went ahead and moved up to Nashville a couple months later, and started living here and hanging out,” Jesse explained, mentioning the guys we’d first met and witnessed again earlier this summer in Jersey City. “The Weeks are a band here in Nashville, and I sat on their couch for about a year, until people started talking to me. After we got on Carson Daly… yeah, after we got on the television show, people would be like ‘Hey! What’s up Jess?’” Wells recalled. “They’re the best of the best,” he said of his bandmates. “I mean, if you want the best, you come to Nashville – if you want players, you know. People who actually walk the road.”

Thanks to songs like “Seventeen” (from which the name, Red Trees and White Trashes, was derived), it’s a bit easier to picture the world of “Ar-kansas,” as Wells sings with affection, “Where there’s beer and molasses // We’ll let the times fly on past us // The whole world, kiss our asses // through red trees and white trashes.” He explained why the album’s title had been sourced from this particular line when we spoke. “If you were to walk with me through my life, it would be through the red trees that I just grew up all around, and white trash – which I feel like I belong to,” said the Ozark, Arkansas native. “I lived in a town that many people in the country would drive through and go, ‘Wow, it’s a cute little town. A lot of white trash.’ And then they’d just keep driving. There are entire states that are like that. So I’m self-aware of that perception. And I just felt like this entire album, with all the words I put in, was about all the wild shit I did back in Arkansas. If you’re going to be listening to it, you’re going to be stepping through my life…so why not name it after the place you’re stepping into? It’s a journey; you’re listening through red trees and white trashes. Because that’s me; I’m red trees and white trashes.”

Wells painted other scenes of his hometown – and even his childhood – as he answered the ol’ P&W whiskey question. “When I drink whiskey…” he said in smiling tone, “I drink Kentucky Deluxe. It is just a blended, bottom-shelf bourbon. I drink it hot and by the pint. But I haven’t done that since college; I can’t even touch that anymore. I went through a liquor store drive-thru and asked them if I could have some Kentucky Deluxe, and they told me no. And I think that’s ‘pry the last evening I had any. But that was like…senior year,” he realized, amused. “They should have called the cops on my ass.” A quick digression about the novelty of drive-thru liquor stores suddenly had Jesse laughing more and reminiscing far back. “I have memories sitting in the bucket seat next to my dad with a Pepsi between my knees, and we would go through the liquor store drive-thru, and he would order a twelver of Busch Light, and put it in the passenger seat. And he’d give me a Pepsi, ‘cause it was kind of about the same color as a Busch Light can. And we’d both crack ‘em open and drive around. I had no idea what was going on, you know? ‘Cause you wanna be just like your dad when you’re a kid,” he said nostalgically. “But yeah, it’s insane. There’s drive-thru liquor stores here [in Nashville] too. I could ride my bicycle to one right now.”

“I don’t really have any grand statements,” he said as we wrapped up our long call. “I would just beg people to keep their eyes peeled, because I’m going to be here, and I’m just crazy about this. We’re doing this for folks, you know? The people who are working like 9-5 who’ve got it all boring. We are the people that fucking said, ‘Fuck it, we’re going for it.’ The kids in rock & roll bands, that’s who we are: the kids who said ‘Fuck it.’ And everyone else wants to do that – they really do. But instead, they just buy a ticket, and they come and watch us do it, and that’s fine. That’s who we’re there for. Get your rocks off, goddamnit,” Wells laughed. “This is what the people that are fans of Welles should know,” he added decisively. “The music’s written. Albums are coming. I’m writing constantly. I’ve been writing constantly since I was 12. I’ve got suitcases and suitcases and suitcases full of notebooks and computer hard drives full of stuff I can’t even access anymore because it’s too old, you know? I’ve got tunes on floppy drives and stuff,” he laughed, having dipped into a whisper that sounded more humble than secretive. Still addressing his fans, in a genuinely caring tone, he concluded, “I’ve been doing this forever, and this is what I do, so you don’t have to worry. This is not a phase. I’m going to be around as long as I am alive.”

What Fans of Welles Should Know: ‘You Don’t Have To Worry’, By Olivia Isenhart, July 27, 2018
https://www.pancakesandwhiskey.com/2018/07/27/welles-interview/

Wells’ Debut Album ‘Red Trees and White Trashes’ Is A Rock Lover’s Dream

“Dust me off like a jar of fire, declare me as your friend. It’s been done before, and we’re doing it now, and I’m sure it’s not the end.” It’s a small remark in the song, but out of context, it defines Welles’ entire approach to rock and roll – and searing debut record – to a tee. Due for official release tomorrow (June 15), Red Trees and White Trashes is one of the purest and most promising rock albums we’ve encountered in recent years…and best of all, you can tell it was never trying to be. Jesse Wells, the mind behind the music, doesn’t deem himself a visionary or “the new” anything, and shrugs off such superlatives from recent press with disgusted amusement. Against his wishes, though, the intense musicality packed into his 13-track debut might make it difficult to avoid being placed on a pedestal. What we’ve got here is truly a jar of fire. If you dust it off, as he suggests, and peer into the flames, you’ll be amazed at what you find.

There’s something strikingly raw about Red Trees and White Trashes; no part of it even feels planned or constructed. His ruthless guitar work and pulse-resetting progressions are closer in spirit to a howl at the moon than a series of notes and chords. It’s an album whose brutally-honest lyrics sound familiar the first time you hear them, like feelings ripped from your own subconscious. It’s a research-with-no-results kind of album, with material that’s so strong, you assume he must be covering some classic rock song – only to find again and again that it’s his own. It’s an album that makes you race to pre-order the vinyl, realizing it might be difficult to find if you don’t jump on it before the rest of the rock-loving populous does. It’s a fast injection of medicine you didn’t know you needed. It’s daunting to decide which parts to analyze first. It’s not even accurate to describe certain songs as highlights when all of them are so compelling. It’s that good.

When we first interviewed Welles last year, the band was only four weeks old, and their message was impenetrably simple: “We just make rock and roll music.” Having caught up with Jesse again this week (full in-depth interview coming soon to P&W), it’s unsurprising and refreshing that nothing at all has changed – even as the new songs are being excavated and handled like diamonds by critics and fans. Early-released singles like “Life Like Mine,” “Seventeen,” and “Rock N Roll,” as well as “Codeine,” “Hold Me Like I’m Leaving,” “Into Ashes,” and “Are You Feeling Like Me” from last year’s EP, already feel like staples of a proper rock playlist, each dripping with his husky yet tender vocals and velvety, vintage-rock riffs. Album opener “How Sweet It Is to Love” and other fresh cuts “Do You Know How to Fuck,” “Seasons,” “Crush 19,” “Summer” and “9.8” (plus a vital and shreddy “Interlude”) are overwhelmingly good additions, tying all the rest together like tightly-knotted twine. The album’s title, Red Trees and White Trashes, comes from the end of “Seventeen,” but it runs a bit deeper than that, as Jesse explained when we spoke.

“If you were to walk with me through my life, it would be through the red trees that I just grew up all around, and white trash – which I feel like I belong to,” said the Ozark, Arkansas native. “I lived in a town that many people in the country would drive through and go, ‘Wow, it’s a cute little town. A lot of white trash.’ And then they’d just keep driving. There are entire states that are like that. So I’m self-aware of that perception. And I just felt like this entire album, with all the words I put in, was about all the wild shit I did back in Arkansas. If you’re going to be listening to it, you’re going to be stepping through my life…so why not name it after the place you’re stepping into? It’s a journey; you’re listening through red trees and white trashes. Because that’s me; I’m red trees and white trashes.”

Wells’ Debut Album ‘Red Trees and White Trashes’ Is A Rock Lover’s Dream, By Olivia Isenhart, June 14, 2018
https://www.pancakesandwhiskey.com/2018/06/14/welles-debut-album/

Kallao: You’re listening to the World Cafe. Hi, I’m Kallao. Wells has the look, The Voice, the licks, the hooks, and the attitude of a real rock star. His classic rock meets grunge debut, red trees and white trashes. His alternatively big, chunky, bombastic and driving yet intimate, sensitive, quiet and reserved. There’s no shortage of ballads and barn burners. Jesse Wells grew up in rural Arkansas. Started filling up journals of lyrics at an early age and played music in barns, turkey houses, to be specific. Yes, that’s where turkeys hang out. He also played football for his high schools team, the Ozark Hillbillies.

After graduating from college, Wells moved to Nashville and connected with producer extraordinaire Dave Cobb. If that name sounds familiar, it’s because Dave’s worked with everyone in Nashville, like Jason Isbell and Chris Stapleton, and if he hasn’t worked with you, give him a week. Wells talks about what it’s like to make the journey to Nashville and recording the single Seventeen.

He’s not afraid to call it like he sees it, even if that means appreciating and experiencing the trials and tribulations of drug use. All so that you might have a better workout, he’ll explain. But first, let’s get started with, Hold me like, I’m leaving.

~ Hold me like I’m Leaving ~

Kallao: Our guest in studio live performance of Hold me like I’m leaving. The debut album is called Red Trees and White Trashes. My name is Kallao. Thanks for joining us today, and thank you Jesse for joining us.

Jesse: Thanks for having me.

Kallao: So Jesse, you grew up in, um. Ozark, Arkansas, yeah, what is the coolest thing to do there?

Jesse: Oh, probably all the fishing. There’s plenty of fishing to do.

Kallao: Were you a fisher growing up?

Jesse: Yeah, yeah, so like boat or stand off the side. Yeah, I was just on on the side until when I was a junior in high school. I bought a canoe and that. Um, kind of that way. I could go and explore on my own, you know, and then I started fishing from the canoe

Kallao: Because it’s better when there’s nobody around. You said, growing up in Arkansas that, you’re playing sports, playing football, track, and that you could, you could end up becoming a meathead just by running with that crowd. I don’t see you as a meathead. Were you a meathead in high school?

Jesse: Maybe a bit. Yeah, I weighed a bit more, you know, just because they had us on school lunches, which are garbage. And then a very strict football regiment, you know, keep you strong.

Kallao: Man, did you play football?

Jesse: Yeah,

Kallao: Oh, goodness, gracious! So what? What changed? Not that there’s anything wrong with playing football

Jesse: Ozark Hillbilly Football! That was our mascot

Kallao: You were the Hillbillies?

Jesse: HPRD Hillbilly Pride runs deep.

Kallao: Um, what changed and and you put down? You put down the shin pass, and you picked up a guitar.

Jesse: Yeah, nothing ever changed. I’ve been playing guitar that whole time and stuff. I just really enjoyed Sports the camaraderie, the the.. you were kind of on a stage on Friday nights. Yeah, it’s just cool. It’s a cool thing to do

Kallao: So while you were on the stage on Friday, Friday nights in the Friday Night Lights. Yeah, I also read that you were playing turkey houses.

Jesse: Yeah, well.

Kallao: So, so you had a different kind of stage? What is a turkey house for those who have never?

Jesse: Yeah, it’s just, it’s a. It’s a big, long building, um. That is open air. Kind of like a like a barn or something in an edge. It’s where you would house turkeys and feed them, develop them, grow them. That sort of thing, but they were emptied out on on my buddy’s land. There’s dirt floor, you know, and you go out. And we plug all our stuff into the wall and jam out there, you know.

Kallao: And I imagine, on a Friday night in Ozark or Saturday night. A lot of people would come to the turkey houses to watch some music.

Jesse: I know that we played some parties and we played like some gazebos, and that sort of thing around in the small, where people would actually combat in the instance of the turkey houses. It was mostly just us. A close group of folks, you know, just playing music?

Kallao: That’s really cool. We’re here with Wells at the new album is called red trees and white trash. As you’re listening to the World Cafe. My name is Kaleo, um, the next song that we’re going to listen to. Is is the debut single from your debut album, 17? Do you remember what bit of lyrics was the spark for this song.

Jesse: Oh. Probably, I think I wrote it chronologically. White skin underwater, you know? She’s somebody’s daughter. I’m pretty sure that’s how it went about. I was on the front porch. I had just gotten back from the pool where I have witnessed some white skin beneath the water.

Kallao: So it started there. Yeah, that’s incredible. I mean, I, and I have, I have the lyric sheet in front of me. It’s, it’s an absolutely gorgeous written song, but the thing that I enjoy the thing that I enjoyed the most about it is, I listened to it first and then caught some of the lyrics and thought I had an idea of what the song was about, and then I went back to the lyric sheet and read the lyrics several times over, and I thought I had a different idea of what the song was about. Um, can you? Can you pull back some of the layers so, uh, to help him help someone who might want to interpret it, because in particular, the line, “When I was young, I was far out. We can hold hands, we can make out, sit silent, or cry out. You’re pretty when you cop out transgendered and washed out, and I can see Pastor’s short hair telling me that you don’t care.” And it goes on from. Yeah, and it’s a very beautiful sentiment, but I, I’m not sure. Are you? The narrator is, is someone else the narrator? What’s what’s going on here in 17?

Jesse: Yeah. I am that narrator of this tune. Um, I just encountered for the first time. Um, my first transgender person, so, and it just blew it, blew my mind, and I was, uh, I was. It was a, you know, formative age. And um, I was just very impressed with it, with the notion of being born wrong. But there’s this bold move

Kallao: But there’s also no judgment, which I like about this.

Jesse: No, no, and of course not.

Kallao: I think there’s something very innocent and cool about it. Would you be willing to play it for us?

Jesse: Of course, of course.

Kallao: Wells is our guest on World Cafe. Let’s listen to a live performance right now of 17 on the World Cafe.

~ Seventeen ~

Kallao: Seventeen, live in studio live performance from Wells on the World Cafe, uh, the album is Red Trees and White Trashes here with Jessie Wells, so you, you leave Ozark, Arkansas, which is pretty small place, um? I mean, what is the population?

Jesse: It’s, I think it’s right around 3, 600, at the moment.

Kallao: Wow, going to Fayetteville, yeah, which is college town, and uh Walmart, Bentonville?

Jesse: Yeah, it’s all this. What is it? NWA Northwest, Arkansas.

Kallao: So, what were you going to school for?

Jesse: Uh, I was going to school for music

Kallao: You, oh, so you were planning. At that point, you knew you wanted to do music when you were getting into college?

Jesse: Yeah, yeah, there’s no, I, I was, just like if I was going to have to study something. Um, I might as well, you know, do the thing. I, like, you know.

Kallao: Did you end up graduating from?

Jesse: Yeah, I went to, I graduated from John Brown University. It’s a little private, Christian institution in Siloam Springs, Arkansas. So, they gave me a tremendous scholarship, and so, you know, you go.

Kallao: Was it based on your music stuff?

Jesse: Yeah, yeah, they need guitar players, I think, or something.

Kallao: Wells is joining us today on the World Cafe. Off to Nashville, from from Fayetteville? It’s been a recent relocation hotbed for several years. Were you ever concerned about, well, this is a great place for access to music and recording, but it’s also incredibly competitive. So sometimes it’s like I’d rather be the big fish in a small pond, as opposed to being one of a million fishes in a big pond.

Jesse: Sure, I didn’t really think of it like that.

Kallao: You just saw it as an opportunity.

Jesse: It’s yeah, and that’s all. That’s all it is, cuz I just knew that, no matter what. Whenever I got there, I’m gonna be the only one doing what I’m doing, and so. You know, because only you do you? And so I’ll just get there and keep my thought process, I think, was out. So I’ll move to Nashville. I keep doing me, do what I’m doing, you know, and we’ll see what happens.

Kallao: What’d your parents think when you said I’m going to go to Nashville and I’m going to go do a music career?

Jesse: They, they kind of looked at me like they had figured I was going to leave at some point. And so they just didn’t know when it was going to be. And they let let me go. You know,

Kallao: We’re here with Wells, Jesse Wells, on World Cafe, and uh, hanging out with him. It’s just been a really enjoyable conversation. There’s there is one thing that I wanted to ask. There’s something I read in an interview that kind of messed with me. And in an interview, you described the themes of your songwriting as poverty, substance abuse, and the party that ensues. The guy asked the question he goes, “Most people view Substance abuse as an altogether bad thing. Do you?” and your response was most people view substance ab? An altogether bad thing, and they ought to if it weren’t. For those of us making the art getting out there on the edges, those folks wouldn’t have a decent soundtrack for the gym.

Jesse: I bet you I didn’t have to work that day. I bet you, that’s what it was I did. I didn’t go into work, so I was feeling like an artist sitting at home doing some writing, drinking some coffee, whatever. And I thought, well, if it weren’t for us artists you guys at the gym wouldn’t have anything to listen to? Which is just ridiculous.

Kallao: Actually, this brings it back to a better question, which is to say how much your music do you, it doesn’t. How much your music needs that inspiration.

Jesse: I don’t ever write anything down, inebriated. I don’t get a whole lot done in that case, so most of my stuff is done in the morning time, uh, with some coffee after the evening. You know, we we all on imbibe and have good old times, and that sort of thing, but um. You gotta take care of yourself.

Kallao: That’s a good point.

Jesse: It’s a long road.

Kallao: Long road, and you were only 23. So please take care of yourself.

Jesse: I shall.

Kallao: Excellent, uh, you want to take us out with little rock and roll?

Jesse: Of course!

Kallao: It’s Wells on the World Cafe.

~ Rock N Roll ~

Kallao: Wells, live in studio here on the World Cafe rock and roll from the debut album, Red Trees, and White Trashes. Jesse, who’s been rocking with you today? Give a shout out to you guys

Jesse: Dude, uh, we got Davey over here on the bass that is Davey of Vid Nelson. We have Jordan roach for playing the kit like a madman, and Marshall, Willard ride, or die on the ax.

Kallao: Love it, Jesse! Thank you so much for coming in and playing some great songs. Sharing some stories with us, we’re really stoked about your debut album. Congratulations on it!

Jesse: Thank you, thank you!

Kallao: And come back to the come back and see us.

Jesse: Oh please, yeah, have me back. I’d love to see you again.

Kallao: Wells, our guest in studio, I’m Kallao, We’ll be back in a moment on the World Cafe.

Welles On World Cafe, NPR, June 15, 2018, Stephen Kallao
https://www.npr.org/sections/world-cafe/2018/06/15/619242146/welles-on-world-cafe

On His Debut Album, Welles Pretties Up Dirty Rock And Roll

First rule of rock and roll: Make sure the music knows how much you love it. The music is something people make, of course, but it can feel like its own life form when you put your fingers on a guitar or some drums and play it, or feel it run through you as you’re pushed up against the stage by a sweaty crowd, or sink deep into it huddled in your room with your giant headphones affixed to your noggin. So, since the beginning, rockers have praised, named, and given thanks to rock and roll in song. Chuck Berry did it. So did Lou Reed and Joan Jett and Led Zeppelin and David Bowie. Laying his claim, Jesse Wells does it too, in one of the fuzz-fed brush fires he and his band – simply called Welles – light on this debut album.

“Rock and roll is a gas,” Wells sings in a chewy tenor that’s part Beatle, part burnout. “Rock and roll slithers past. Rock and roll knows your heart, it will tear you apart. Rock and roll is a blast.” Those sample lines show how this young devotee has absorbed the basic language of his beloved tradition and is now devoted to refreshing it. The sound of Red Trees and White Trashes is confrontational and fun, marked by psychedelia and grunge (in 2015, Wells released a cover of Nirvana’s “Heart Shaped Box”) but with a little bit of Southern pastoralism in the mix. Wells grew up in Arkansas and, until recently, lived in an art commune in the gorgeous mountain lands around Fayetteville. In his gently drifting power ballad “Seventeen” – which may be a bit of a tribute to Big Star’s great song about the same kind of angst, “Thirteen” – Wells tells his messed-up love he’d like to bring them to “Ar-Kansas, where there’s beer and molasses” and a certain immunity to time and those titular “red trees and white trashes” dot the psychedelic landscape. The feel of this album recalls other 21st-century Southern rock survivalists like Cage the Elephant and All Them Witches – artists who’ve found inspiration in the region’s woodsy cover and nighttime heat, and are keeping feedback-fed rock alive by not worrying about anybody else’s idea of what’s cool.

At only 23, Wells is already writing hooks that any of his heroes would envy. In Nashville he’s found bandmates who can take his vision past what he could do in Fayetteville’s coffee houses and backyards. The sound on this album is huge, putting Welles in the same league as the smart bands reviving rock’s mainstream right now, like Royal Blood and Greta Van Fleet. Produced by Beau Boggs (who’s known for his work with Nashville mavericks from Jamey Johnson to Natalie Prass) and Bobby Emmett, with three tracks helmed by Dave Cobb (reminding the world here that he started his ascent as a producer in a rock band of his own), Red Trees and White Trashes has the heft and complexity to likely earn a few Grammy nominations; but it’s also obvious that Wells will always be comfortable in some dirty rock and roll kitchen where, as he says in one song, “everyone’s kinda ugly in that way that looks pretty,” girls in blue bobs are smoking something illegal, and somebody’s turned the amp up to 10 on the other side of the screen door. “It’s just summer again,” Wells cries as the bass line creeps like a snake in the grass. “Giving it away to the night life trend all again.” Giving it away to the thing that gives it all to you: rock and roll.

On His Debut Album, Welles Pretties Up Dirty Rock And Roll, By Ann Powers, June 7, 2018
https://www.npr.org/2018/06/07/615551402/first-listen-welles-red-trees-and-white-trashes