Mount Wilson Writers

A deep Dionysian echo quivers down the mythical halls of time and sound. A bellow from the gut of chaos unleashed. This is the resonance of rock n roll—a tenuous handle on a powerful beast. And this is Tea Leaf Green the most recent incarnation of rock n roll divinity, the bottle that contains the bolt, the ancient mystery of controlling chaos with stick, string and drum. Meet Trevor Garrod, the traveling bard, his grand piano slung across his shoulder like a burlap sack. He brings images fantastic, pictures painted in the mind’s eye, restless romantic phantoms that recall the forging of the American West. Like an Icelandic berserker, Josh Clark sweeps up the sweet pastoral musings of his piano playing counterpart and unleashes a hammer-throw of thunderous guitar. His frenetic fingers send his onlookers into otherworldly dimensions. His hell-raising riffs are juxtaposed with the earthy vibrations of Trevor’s song cycle. Meet Scott Rager, the heartbeat, pulsating, pushing the caravan further toward the edge of meaning and discovery, a steady stake in a bungalow of bedlam. His beats a paradox; both primal and machine-like that seem to send the band careening toward the darkness in quest of revelation. Enter Ben Chambers. The only thing more epic that his collection of self-proclaimed nicknames, is the thump of funk that thunders from out his speakers. Direct from the Planet of Green Love, he is the asphalt foundation of the house. His finger taps and thumb slaps craft the contours of the band’s distinctive sound.

Tea Leaf Green possesses a quality that is sought after but remains unformulated, the ability to sound recognizable and inimitable in the same swoop. The astute songwriting of Trevor is magnified and framed by the other three players who interpret the nuances of his lyricism. However, what many songwriters do not have is a flamboyant front-man whose soloing is able to catapult a nice ditty into an epic rock n roll adventure. Yet the band begins with Scott and Ben, college classmates who spent months jamming together before Josh and, ultimately, Trevor joined the fray. From Ben’s backhouse bedroom on Church Street to the sold out confines of the legendary Fillmore, the music has never strayed far from the original vision: organic but ambitious, confident but never cocky, ebullient but thoughtful, soulful and exploratory. The steadily growing, coast to coast, fan base is indicative of the progression that the band has made, each new fan realizing that TLG has “that thing”- a sensation indefinable that hits you in the gut and shudders up your spine. Tea Leaf Green itself is a group that defies definition, the label of jamband, though complementary, fails to adequately capture the complexity of the band’s vision. Though certainly indebted to bands such as the Grateful Dead and Phish, TLG represents the multifaceted fabric of rock music- the raw power of a Chuck Berry riff, the melodic mastery of a Beatles’ tune, the bombastic majesty of a Led Zeppelin groove, and the lineage of Americana embodied by groups like The Band and songwriters like Neil Young. The music of Tea Leaf Green contains a timeless quality, a reverberating pluck on Pythagoras’ eternal strings.

The growth of the band can be measured in part by the mature, newly released third album “Taught To Be Proud,” a record that appeals for entrance into the pantheon of original rock recordings. Just as from one album to the next TLG’s songwriting capabilities expand, each live show exemplifies the movement from apprentice to master craftsmen that the quartet has become. Based on both word of mouth and the plethora of recordings traded by fans, a live performance is an event of epic proportion. It is mystical and maddening, challenging, experimental, and ultimately satisfying. The band now finds itself at a crossroads. After years of constant gigging establishing a steadily growing fanbase TLG finds itself on the brink of larger national exposure—this is an exciting proposition for those who have watched the evolution of this entity. But perhaps more exhilarating still is the untapped potential as the band attempts to carve an indelible mark into the marble edifice of rock n roll music.

I would feel somewhat remiss if the 25th anniversary of John Lennon’s untimely death passed without a thought or two on my end. After all, in highschool I grew my hair long and sported specs to emulate the White Album persona of the late Beatle. As I’ve grown older, a deeper appreciation for the other three members of the fab four has developed. In fact, I must admit, Paul McCartney’s songmanship, his ear for music, and his pop aesthetic surpasses his more rebellious writing partner. I have also come to admire the thoughtful introspection and spiritual acquiescence that the “Dark Horse” of the band, George Harrison, embodies. In addition, over the years, I have come to recognize Ringo Starr as a truly groundbreaking rock drummer, pounding and propelling the music that can only be described as the earliest form of hard rock. The eminence of the Beatles is measured both by the individual vision that each member brought to the group as well as what the four (with help from George Martin) were able to do as a unit. But there is something about Lennon that always resonates at a deeper level than the other three. For all the polished pop of a Hey Jude or Let it Be, give me Happiness is a Warm Gun. In the midst of the squeaky clean early candy coated hits I’ll take Lennon’s dark, cry for Help. For all of the disjointed galloping strangeness of Ringo’s Don’t Pass Me By- give me the lyrical surreality of Come Together or the groundbreaking, dis-understood pastiche that is Revolution 9.Despite the beauty of George Harrison’s later Beatles’ work like Something, I’m still partial to Lennon’s anthemic Imagine. But it’s more than the songs.

It is more than the melodies and wry glimpses toward the camera. I suppose as a person who puts the utmost stock in the creative power of words it is Lennon’s message that resonates. When I say the creative power of words I honestly mean that, like man and woman come together to create a new and individual entity, words (language), strung together with the right friction, create a tangible presence out of that which had previously been mere sounds in cacophonous disarray. Lennon did not create simply little ditties to which we can tap our toes- though that is part of what he did. He expressed what others knew-what settled at the base of the unconscious- but couldn’t conceptualize. As I have grown older I have cared less about his personal life, in fact I find little in it that I would condone. Finding he was a heroin user and an adulterer tarnished his image, in my estimation, long ago. More importantly and more to the point, at some point in everyone’s life, one must be let down by (another JL plea) and cast aside their idol and realize the fallibility that resides within the human form. One must experiment with and create one’s own meaning and purpose. In this context it is quite easy to separate the man from the message. Hell, Lennon was only ten years older than me when he was murdered. He wrote, arguably, all of his best material before the age of 31. For all the violence and turmoil of his existence, shot in cold blood on a cold night, he was a man who called for peace. And isn’t this the measure of an enlightened man? Not the ability to overcome the earthly obstacles but to recognize, firstly, the imperfection in us all, and secondly the potential for perfection, the quest for the ideal. Perhaps his most symbolic act, laying with his wife in an Amsterdam bed, is the memory that we should take with us. It is misguided action that gets the human species in trouble. The quick temper, the volitionless leap into the abyss, as well as the belief that our rationality will always result in what is right. As exiled Vietnamese Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh said “first you must learn to still the mind. Then you don’t take action; action takes you.” Lennon showed the world in this one “act,” this peaceful and heavily publicized protest, that it is inaction- meditation, contemplation, listening in order to understand- that charts the progress of mankind. I do not mean progress in terms of high rise buildings and plasma screens. I mean spiritual progress. In this regard, for all the ambivalence his life represented, Lennon’s core message is quite Christ like- the recognition of the imbalance of life and a life’s quest to find the equilibrium.

“Better recognize you’re brother- everyone you meet,” said Lennon in Instant Karma. Perhaps his profundity is in his simplicity. This line is merely the golden rule, that which, regardless of religious, political, or philosophical belief, we are taught at a young age. Perhaps my own attraction to the Lennon legacy, and the reason why his songs have remained so close to my heart is the fact that he was able to plot both the depths of despair and the highest idealism. This is something that we as humans experience everyday. Does it seem contradictory that my favorite Lennon song contains the lyric- “Yes, I’m lonely, wanna die”- yet every time I hear Imagine my eyes mist? This is the genius of Lennon. The one song, Yer Blues, is both an expression of his own deep despondency as well as a satirical dig at the blues genre in general. It is dirty, gritty, Rolling Stones swagger, and made even suicide seem right. The other song is polished, sparse, poignant. In this way Lennon lived the archetype of the artist, patrolling the hinterlands of the frail human psyche and stripping away the vizard of invincibility to reveal the vulnerability inherent in the human condition, while at the same time hoping, having faith in, the possibility of the human spirit. This is something that his partner was unable to do- and that is no dig at McCartney, a brilliant musician and one of the greatest composers of the 20th century. But this is the thing about Lennon that gets me- an average musician, a decent singer, a good song writer- and yet a true visionary, an embodiment of the conflicts and chaos of the human animal.
Rest in Peace

The genesis of Tea Leaf Green is entrenched in the environment in which
the band members were raised. From the pastoral vineyard blanketed
surroundings of the hills of San Jose in the north to the glittering dreams
of the Sunset Strip in the southland, the origins embody California,
the land of hard fought progression as well as lazy days in the eternal
sun.

Guitarist Joshua Clark and drummer Scott Rager were childhood chums,
brought along in the positive and enriching environment of a Los Angeles
suburb. The two first began playing together in 1995 in a classic rock
inspired outfit by the name of Parmalot. Rager brought to the fold the
experience of playing to sold out audiences at both the Whiskey A-go-go
and the Roxy Theatre in Hollywood, with his then band, Salty Onion.

After high school, Scott packed up his leaving trunk and headed for the
lights of San Francisco, where the grass is much greener. It didn’t
take long for him to encounter bassist Benjamin Chambers on the campus of
San Francisco State University. It was a chance meeting at best, but in
hindsight, the destiny of both players. Chambers was also a
transplanted Los Angelino, thus the roots ran deep.

The two musicians, spurred by a mutual desire to start a band, met
casually for instrumental jam sessions in Ben’s tiny bedroom in a back
house off Church Street. This period together allowed both to get to know
each other personally and artistically and the foundation of a stellar
rhythm section was solidified. The musical interests were similar, yet
diverse enough, to spark interest at both ends. Scott introduced his
crisp rock drumming to Ben’s funk inspired basslines.

Not long after, Josh also made the move from the San Gabriel Valley to
The City. Clark brought to the table lightning fast fingers and an
intrinsic ear for his art. A trio was instantly formed. The group, though
each adequete songwriters, still lacked a true tune-smith. A handful of
singers, guitarists, and hanger’s-on made their way through the
threshold at Church Street, but none were able to supply what the three
desired so badly, a fourth, and equally potent, wheel to get the car motoring
down the highway.

One night, at a warehouse party, a young, blond, bomber-jacket clad,
keyboard virtuoso named Trevor Garrod caught the boy’s performance. He
asked if he could play with them. After hearing what Trevor had to offer,
quick hands and melodic chord progressions, they readily agreed to
allow him to join the band.

Trevor delivered an instant jolt to the outfit. Songs poured from his
banks like an endless pitcher of beer. He presented his own musical
numbers and helped complete the solid, though unfinished, arsenal of songs
the band already possesed. The foursome soon cut a rough demo that,
while antiquated now, was a glimpse into the greatness and complexity
currently associated with the group.

As any musician will tell you the only way to improve and progress is,
simply, constant gigging. This is what the lads set out to do. They
provided entertainment at studio parties, art shows, small clubs,
backyards, and anywhere else that would allow them to plug in and jam.

Before they knew it, they had a small, but extremely dedicated,
following. A fanbase developed in San Francisco, on the campus of UC
Davis, and in the Los Angeles basin. Soon the band was performing at clubs
like the Paradise Lounge, Boomerang, and the Hotel Utah. As the fan base grew TLG held down a weekly spot at the famed Elbo Room in the City’s Mission District. Over the next half decade ceaseless exploration musically and a vault of original
material help propel them to a more visible plateau. National recognition began to take shape with the band’s initiatory performance at the 2001 High Sierra Music Festival, where the boys have been a mainstay ever since with performances on the mainstage. Four years into life on the road, Tea Leaf Green has compiled an impressive resume of performances from the Knitting Factory in both Los Angeles and New York to the massified fields of Tennessee that is the Bonnaroo Festival, from a string of sold out shows at San Francisco’s Great American Music Hall to a slot on The Gorge Side Stage in Washington State in support of the Dave Matthews Band.

The band continues to improve with each performance, showcasing a
stunning array of sophisticated material that explores the sonic landscape
of progressive, experimental rock music. From the Doors to the Grateful
Dead, from Steely Dan to Yes, from the Jayhawks to Frank Zappa, from
The Allman Brothers to Phish, The Band to the Black Crowes, the list of influences is endless. But more importantly, the music is distinctly their own definitive vision. Such songs as “Warm Up Jam,” “Taught to Be Proud,” “Freedom,” “Deathcake,” “Precious Stone,” “Sex in the Seventies,” “Professor’s Blues,” and “Las Vegas” reveal each member’s individual brilliance as well as a cohesive understandinding painfully absent from today’s music scene. Currently the band is putting the finishing touches on their third official release preceded by the albums “Midnight on the Reservoir” and “Living In Between.”

There is no limit to the band’s future. As new fans discover the awe inspiring quartet, as old fans shake their heads in understanding, as girls whirl beneath the psychedelic overtures, one aspect can be confirmed and agreed upon- THIS BAND ROCKS!
originally written in September of 2000, updated in 2005
originally published on tealeafgreen.com