Altered Statesman and Lone Official are easily two of the hardest-working bands in Nashville. Between them, they share members with Lambchop, Hands Off Cuba and Taiwan Deth, to name but a few.

Steve Poulton, the brains behind Altered Statesman, recently returned from playing a handful of Northern gigs with saxophonist Steve Mackay, best known for his work with The Stooges. Not long before that, Altered Statesman opened a series of shows for Wilco.

Poulton's plan for the coming weeks is an ambitious one: He hopes to release 12 singles in as many months. "Stolen Steaks"/"Horseapple Junction," a 7-inch split with Lone Official and the first in Poulton's series, is a 500-copy pressing complete with digital downloads and an alleged surprise included with each record.

Altered Statesman's "Stolen Steaks" was recorded at WaterWorks in East Nashville and Joe McMahan's Wow and Flutter. Lone Official tracked "Horseapple Junction"—along with two other songs slated for later release—at House of David, a Music Row studio that has hosted the talents of Justin Townes Earle, among others.

The entire recordings were done in the time-tested tradition of off-the-clock sessions—the type of recording that has long powered the tireless (and increasingly incestuous) indie community behind the scenes of Nashville's more notorious country scene. But unlike many recordings hashed out after hours at the studios of friends and acquaintances, these shine with quality and professionalism.

Poulton demonstrates on "Stolen Steaks" that his years of touring, writing and improvising with a stable of skilled musicians have made him a master of dynamics. The track drifts between jazzy, diverse interludes and emotive moments as violinist Jennifer Halenar saws away at her graceful, heart-wrenching parts. Vocals and subtle, layers-deep instrumentation give the song breadth as drummer Scott Martin's ride cymbal forms the spine of the track.

"Horseapple Junction," which, at three-and-a-half minutes, is just seconds shorter than "Stolen Steaks," feels like the perfect follow-up to Lone Official's 2006 release Tuckasee Take.

That album's songs are arranged immaculately, and frontman Matt Button's conversational inflection and thoughtful lyrics bear more than a passing resemblance to Jim O'Rourke and Stephen Malkmus. Tuckasee was one of the most noteworthy local efforts in the past five years, and "Horseapple Junction" retains its creativity with a healthy shot of up-tempo energy. "The songs we recorded harken back a little more to that [Tuckasee Take] sound," says Button. "But we definitely picked the most rocking song for the split."

Both Button and Poulton are family men deeply rooted in Nashville. That's admittedly a dynamic that shapes their bands' existence both logistically and creatively. "The unreleased songs from our session have to do with that homey thing," says Button, a father of three. "You know, singing about dishes. Dishes in the sink."

Being part of a local band that hones its sound carefully and strives for longevity can often feel like a fruitless endeavor—especially when there are bills to pay and dishes in the sink. But everything both Lone Official and Altered Statesman produce is a labor of love, and their passion shines through on each track.

Poulton, who was once a fellow Springwater bartender with Button, admits that "Stolen Steaks"/"Horseapple Junction" was inspired and made possible by his longstanding relationship with Music City. "[The split] is kind of a West Nashville shot," says Poulton, who goes on to explain the code of his community: "We don't beat our women and we don't steal shit from each other."

Altered Statesman, Altered
Statesman, 2008 (Self-released, Indie)


(5 of 5 stars)

Altered Statesman is the brainchild of
Nashville-based singer/songwriter Steve Poulton. For this debut full-length
self-titled CD, Poulton teamed with producer and multi-instrumentalist Joe
McMahan. This combination proved incredibly fruitful on this record, as
Poulton's desperately soulful vocals are supported by a lo-fi vintage
experimental blues band reminiscent of early Elvis Costello, Van Morrison, and
at times The Velvet Underground.

Poulton's tone is soulful and bluesy with
a touch of lounge--think Elvis Costello when he teamed with Burt Bacharach for
their brilliant Painted From Memory, only where Bacharach might have
added some top-shelf background jazz singers to fill pockets, Poulton and
McMahan opted for loops, vibes, and lap steel, giving the record an experimental
edge similar to early M Ward. Poulton tells hard-luck stories in a way that
places him (simultaneously) inside and outside the scenes — it's as if he
knows all the characters, but remains emotionally distant when reporting the
events. The lyrics are poetic, unpredictable, and poignant. Poulton's vocals,
however, are sometimes strained as he has the same sense of melody as Elvis
Costello, never hesitating to reach for the note he hears in his head.
Nevertheless, as unpolished as Poulton's vocals might be at times, his songs are
so authentic that it always works.

This is not the record you want to drive
around town listening to in your car. If you do, you might not appreciate its
brilliance. Rather, put this one on at night when you have time to let it play
all the way through. Let it work on you, and you'll find yourself reminiscing
about the past, wondering how you made it through the bad times, wondering
whatever happened to that guy, that girl. Altered Statesman is the most
uniquely brilliant record to emerge from the Nashville indie scene in 2008. — Vincent
Wynne, June 1, 2008

"It is soul music, but that's the kind of thing you say when somebody asks you what kind of music it is," Poulton says of Altered Statesman. He talks about soul like an aficionado, so a conversation with the songwriter comes complete with discursions on Chicago singers such as Major Lance and Otis Leavill. Poulton goes deep with the genre—he can quote the lyrics to George Clinton's 1967 "All Your Goodies Are Gone," which he says the group are doing in their live sets.

Poulton formed Altered Statesman in Dayton, Ohio, a decade ago. "You see [Guided by Voices singer] Bob Pollard every day, and you think, 'Yeah, I can call my band whatever I want, call it whatever I want,' " he says. "In those days we never had a bass player. But I remember, one of the first shows we did outside Dayton was at the Hideaway, an old cop bar in Chicago. It was a benefit for the school band at [Chicago housing project] Cabrini-Green. Otis Clay came, and they showed all these great old films of Curtis [Mayfield] playing."

On Altered Statesman Poulton sings like Mayfield, and like Smokey Robinson and Boz Scaggs. It's white soul with a bohemian edge. Poulton plays vibes and a little piano, but pianist Tony Crow—whose work graced Lone Official's 2006 Tuckassee Take—helps define nearly every song. If Poulton's compositions suggest a steady diet of Chi-Lites albums, the production on "Evidence" recalls Arto Lindsay's The Subtle Body, on which Ryuichi Sakamoto's piano and Lindsay's feel for atmosphere gave samba a catchy post-modernist twist.

Altered Statesman is allusive and sounds oddly familiar—nowhere more so than on "Bobby Rose," for which Poulton contrives a classic '50s chord progression and a set of lyrics about a doomed woman who is "dressed in last summer's fashion." Poulton sings it exquisitely, and blithe vibes color a tale that's about a real person. Actually, the song isn't funny.

"Last time I saw her, man, she was involved with some trumpet player named Curtis," Poulton says of the song's subject—a cousin of his. "She'd disappear for a few years at a time, and then you'd get a call—oh, she's in the hospital with a broken arm. You can't go back and take a photograph of it, so you write a song."

Cut mostly at Nashville's House of David, Altered combines the trailer-park skronk of Poulton and McMahan's guitars with organ, synth and Paul Griffith's weightless drumming. Richard McLaurin and Adam Bednarik engineered; every spooky section of dead space has its rightful place in the band's aural universe. "The Ghost of Charlie Feathers" and "'92 Astro" lope along, while the beautiful "Viola Street" wanders down half-forgotten avenues in a slow, sad shuffle.

"The Ghost of Charlie Feathers" is about another person from Poulton's past. "I'm from Salt Lake City originally, and it's about one of the guys I knew growing up," he says. "It was my mom's sister's husband—one of her many husbands—Big Eddie, as opposed to my cousin Little Eddie. He always had this slicked-back hair, like [rockabilly singer] Charlie Feathers, and Big Eddie really liked that rockabilly stuff. I don't know exactly what he was into, but he was a pervert."

Whatever the context, the song communicates loss, nostalgia and a bemused sense of tragedy. Throughout Altered Statesman Poulton displays the eye and ear of a true writer, and gets the details just right. "Charlie Feathers" mentions a " '61 Imperial with the top cut down," and the opening lines of " '92 Astro" are perfectly timed even as the words themselves arise out of situations only Poulton could be expected to fully understand. "Whatever happened to that kid Che Zastro / Rode off in his '92 Astro," Poulton sings.

"C Cruise" casts the singer as a supplicant alone at a pay phone on a day unrelieved by love or drugs. "I've been calling since a quarter to five / Marking off the minutes on my arm with this knife," he sings. The only thing he's got left is this crummy memory, so he takes refuge in music: "The jukebox plays Huey Smith and the Clowns / Oo-wee, oo-wee baby." It's no sea cruise, and Altered Statesman is a work of art that sounds like it could turn out to be an uplifting experience for almost everyone involved.