$8 in advance/$10 at the door
10:30pm doors/11pm showtime
Corey Palmer is a Minnesota-based singer/songwriter/producer known primarily for his time fronting These Modern Socks and Daykit. After taking an indefinite hiatus from music to raise a family, Corey was jolted back into music making after a near-fatal car accident in 2014 abruptly re-prioritized his life's intentions. He subsequently began writing and recording new material by himself, and eventually released his solo debut, the Love Trade EP. That collection's potent recipe of indelible melodies, beat-centric production, and unfeigned lyricism was warmly embraced by his patient fan base. Corey now continues to explore a similar musical vein on his new release, This Could Be About Anyone, while also sewing in numerous layers of analog synths, falsetto harmonies, and afrobeat percussion.
Corey now returns to live performance accompanied by 6 of his close friends, who also happen to be very accomplished musicians in their own rite: Adrian Suarez (Adam Meckler Orchestra, Vicious Vicious), Nick Tveitbakk (These Modern Socks, Pachyderm Studios), Jeff Marcovis (Al Church, Tyte Jeff ), Park Evans (Fireball, Enormous Quartet), Katie Marshall (Parts for All Makes, Katie Marshall Three-O), and Scott McVeigh (Mark Mallman, Speed’s the Name).
Peter Wolf Crier:
It had been a long while. I was in Canada, Brian was in California. I felt like I had to write songs for PWC to play in order to say it still existed. It was an honesty thing. So I started writing Plum Slump.
I wrote in my apartment in Toronto. I started by just playing guitar after teaching school everyday. I played to jazz albums on YouTube mostly. The first songs I wrote were like if Paul Westerberg was in his late twenties and was a little less jaded. That’s where “Don’t Leave,” “When Did I Decide to Be,” and “We Became Kids Again” came from. I didn’t even know these would be Peter Wolf Crier songs yet -- I was just getting back in the songwriting brain. I put together an EP under a pseudonym, only to be pseudo-shelved. Brian and I got together for a couple of shows and found PWC versions in these tunes, and it lit a fire.
When I put together enough other songs to get everyone excited, it was Christmas. Brian and I reserved 7 days to live together in his parents’ cabin an hour north of Minneapolis. Brian recorded the whole thing. It was amazing. He brought a bunch of microphones and compressors on the plane with him. We bought a mixing board for $20 off Craigslist in the Cities. I borrowed some preamps and mics from an old bandmate and an acoustic guitar from an old roommate. More gear came from April Base. We got lots of cereal and veggie burgers. We had a rule: a fire had to be going any time something was being recorded. I think we burned through ¾ of the cabin’s wood supply.
We jammed every night. It was cathartic. It was emotional. The album changed. It felt more like love letters between friends. The vibe got happy and fun. We were just glad to be together, eating Crunch Berries. We were two happy squares. That’s where “Big Fads,” “Hedgehog,” “Round and Round,” and “Monight” came from. That’s also where we found Plum Slump -- right on a recipe card in Grandma D’s recipe box. We had this thing about playing things “straight.” Making records is all about solving puzzles. You pick your puzzle. We wanted the “straight” kind of puzzle.
But we jammed, you know, for hours every night. Two dudes jamming LOUD in the woods lit by a raging fire. You know how it is when the lights go down. We couldn’t see each other. We explored the space, eyes closed. Things got proggy, I think. It was wild. This is where “Creepers” and “Fab 44” came from.
We met twice more, in the spring and summer. Wait, maybe three more times. I don’t remember. But we finished the thing. I mean, that sounds simpler than it was. There was a vocal session in Toronto in the fall, mostly in my basement laundry room after a botched cabin weekend. Then we slept on the floor of a vacant home in Minneapolis for three days over the holidays, pretty depressed, not keeping a thing we recorded from that trip.