Category: News

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

Meet Welles, The Band That Tells It Like It Is

Why wouldn’t they?

The Welles era is only just beginning. Welles’ just-dropped, five-song EP sounds like the kind of stuff a kid raised solely on psychedelic rock would make after dipping their feet in experimental college radio. Codeine is rife with dreams, trips, and sober reflections all told through music you just don’t hear anymore. There’s an authenticity to frontman Jeh-sea singing, “Lost myself, found myself, killed myself / And brought myself to life” on the EP’s title track. It’s neither emo nor theatrical—just very matter-of-fact rock that fits nicely alongside the early works of Bob Dylan and The Flaming Lips. We’ve got a modern classic on our hands, friends. Just you wait.

Learn more about Welles in our interview with Jeh-sea, below.

What are you most proud of so far in terms of your career?

The album itself and making music that resembles all the music that we love, which is The Beatles, Sabbath, Zeppelin, T. Rex; good pop-rock music [is] an art that’s not quite as prevalent as it used to be. It’s still there, and it’s still very good, but I don’t think it’s really in the mainstream at the moment.

What famous person dead or living do most wish you could have as a roommate?

I’m sure we would just fight like dogs, anyone that I would want to, but I reckon John Lennon during the White Album era would be a good roommate, pretty dysfunctional and strung out.

What is your favorite driving music?

Depends on the mood. I like Jackson Browne’s “Doctor My Eyes.” That’s a really good one. King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard will take you on a trip, whether you’re going on one or not.

Whose career would you most like to emulate?

Beck’s. It’s just great. It’s great music, and it keeps getting put out in a new way. There are some different things I’d like to do, definitely. Maybe I don’t need to reinvent myself as drastically as he has. I think that guy’s had an incredible career, and he’s remained so independent through all of it. Or, at least, it appears that way.

What’s your favorite place to write music?

My bedroom. It’s where I write all of it. I don’t have the luxury of having a secret place.

Describe your aesthetic in three words.

Winter, liquor, dream.

If you had to wear one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be, and why?

A good pair of dungarees. Those’ll probably last you a lifetime if you don’t scoot around on your ass to walk.

Do you have any pre-show superstitions?

No, no, nothing. I don’t really participate in any kind of spiritual realm. I’m very material, you know? A kind of Hobbesian, Randian existence where the only real thing is that which is in front of me. No black cat is gonna put me on edge, you know? There’s other shit going on.

If you had to live in a past time, what do you think would be the most fun era and why?

I’d want to live in the freest era. So where’s the most freedom? Probably in the New World and in the Americas and the mid-19th century where you had the Wild West and stuff like that. If you could get way out West, maybe out in Albuquerque or somewhere out in New Mexico and build your own house and have all your own food and that sort of thing. Actually, you can’t really find that while in New Mexico; so maybe Arkansas. I’d like to be able to subside off myself.

What activities do you most enjoy doing alone?

I love to listen to a good album.

What’s the last good album you listened to alone?

Well, I was just listening to the new King Giz stuff and their new video that just came out. I think it’s great. I like going through Flightless Records’ roster and listening to the Murlocs, and ORB, and King Giz, and Babe Rainbow, and Pipe-eye. All the good stuff that’s coming out their way. It may just be that it’s the only source I found. I’m sure there are other sources of wonderful music, but they really… they compartmentalize and do a very good job of distributing it to me via YouTube. That’s how I consume it.

Are you on Spotify or any of those?

No, I don’t do Spotify or any other players. YouTube is how I’ve always done it. Whatever algorithm they have in there, I don’t think is really swayed by a number of plays. I think it really has to do with the subject matter, so it takes me to places that are very tiny and that no one else has listened to. Like, 470 people have liked this video or have even viewed it, and I’m sitting there enjoying the shit out of it. It bugs me anytime I’m on social media or listening to music when I get suggested something. I think a lot of people feel the same way. How could you possibly know my taste, you know? I like to find things on my own; at least YouTube lets me fake-find shit on my own.

When are you most relaxed?

Recording in the studio. That’s when it’s best.

What kind of person were you in high school?

Confused. You’re over in Arkansas, and you’re playing sports, playing football, baseball, track, the whole run of it. Lifting weights and running around with these meatheads, and you’re one of them. You really are. But at the same time, you’re thinking about being wintery and yellow and liquor-y, and you’ve got this kind of Lennon spook on your ass, and you want to be the horror and the terror, but at the same time, you are a high school boy. I had to get away from it in order to kind of find what I wanted to be.

Can you tell me a quality about yourself that you are genuinely proud of?

I’m proud of being creative. What I really love and what really gets me off is being handed just a shit show, a basket case, and then making something out of it. If it’s a shitty guitar off Craigslist and making it your own, or if these are the only chords I know, and I’m going to make a song with them—that’s where it’s at. If all I have is this small number of gear, we’re going to figure out a way to record. That’s where I thrive. That’s what I enjoy. It’s not always good. It’s not always easy to listen to or anything like that, but that’s really what gets me off.

What’s your next project?

I don’t know. I can’t quite tell if I’ve already got the next album written or if I need to write it. There are so many songs. We could just choose from those older ones and go with those and make the next album, or I could write all new shit, and we could do that. Or a combination? The EP’s a combination. It takes so long to release music because there’s a marketing aspect of building your fans and that sort of thing. If it were me, I’d be like, “Oh, I wrote this song today,” and then the next day, it’s, “Oh, I wrote another song.” You don’t enjoy albums, you enjoy eras of people and their creativity. I can think of Beatles albums versus Beatles eras, and it’s like, I love Lennon, and Revolver, Magical Mystery Tour, and Sgt. Pepper. Well, what do you love? Do you love those three albums, or do you love that era of that person’s music? Had they been releasing it day after day, you would’ve heard some of the best music they made, to you.

If there was one phrase that best sums up your approach to life, what might it be?

Finish it. See it to its end. It’s very important to finish, even if you only ever start one thing.

Meet Welles, The Band That Tells It Like It Is, By Hayden Manders June 7, 2017

Jesse Welles was previously in a band called Dead Indian.

There had been some concern, confusion and even controversy around the band name. The Resist release, included an insert with information on why they chose their name. Dead Indian was named not by Jesse, but by the drummer Simon Martin, who is the author of this note:

They used the name “Dead Indian” to provoke a reaction and make people think about the history of indigenous peoples. The name is intended as a form of art to address cultural bastardization and historical injustices. They used their platform to highlight issues people “don’t want to think about,” like the events at Standing Rock. The note further argues that art should make people uncomfortable to prompt reflection on societal responsibility for past and present issues.

A NOTE FROM THE ARTIST: RESIST

A lot of folks have asked, “why Dead Indian?” and it’s a fair question. It gives people some trouble, it can make you feel guilty or angry or sad. It’s heavy and it’s real and it’s rough around the edges, and you can be assured that people will take it on face value without listening to the message or asking about it. I was born on St. Regis Mohawk reservation, in upstate New York where my father’s fathers have lived for centuries. Jess and Dirk were raised just outside the heart of Cherokee country, in the south, surrounded by ignorance and racism. None of us grew up wealthy or well-off, no silver spoons or handouts. We all lived in the shit one way or another and we’ve all witnessed the bastardization and slow destruction of a culture, my culture, by various media outlets and consumerism and “SOCIETY.”

When you have a voice or some sort of privilege, you use it to reach out to the people who wouldn’t otherwise listen. We didn’t have much, but tried to use it to bring up things that people don’t want to think about, to make folks uncomfortable- that’s what art is for. People don’t like to consider the millions of indigenous peoples who were killed or marched or forced to assimilate just so great-great-granddad could get his 40 acres and a mule- it makes them feel like the bad guy. If we can invoke that feeling from music, or art, or even just a band name then I think we’re doing exactly what we’re meant to do. This is only more relevant now with recent happenings at Standing Rock, which you don’t see anything about on your TV because if they had their way you wouldn’t even know about it. It’s the same story over and over, salt the earth and re-write the narrative so you don’t have to be the monster. The upside of the modern-day social media face space opinion machine is that it’s finally giving some people a small glance into this world where they’re responsible for some of the bad shit that’s going on.