Red Meat
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Red Meat

Oakland, California, United States

Oakland, California, United States
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"We Never Close"

Red Meat - We Never Close
Review By: George Peden, CSO Staff Journalist

They come hailed as California’s finest honky tonk band. Is it well generated hype or do the claims have musical merit? Here at CSO, we’re pleased to say the merit is obvious: these guys (and gal) rock. Yep! Let them claim the title.

The band: Smelley Kelley - vocalist, Lea James - drums, Scott Young - acoustic guitar, Jill Olson - bass and Michael Montalto on guitar – is back with their fourth outing, their first in five years, called We Never Close. It’s out on the band’s own Ranchero label.

With 12 tunes – 9 originals and three covers – the album is definitely made for disturbin’ the peace and hotwiring any Saturday night party. My suggestions? Move the furniture and push the faders high, as this is music made for playing loud. The rug moving two-steppin’ will follow as a natural.

Produced by master Blaster Dave Alvin, the album is a mix, a solid mix, of honky tonk and balladry. The package comes wrapped in crafted playing and lived-in vocals from the band that formed in a Mission District garage in ‘93.

“Honky Tonk Habit”, one of five Scott Young tunes on the album, opens the set. Spirited with the band pushin’ the throttle hard, the tune is vintage honky tonk. The drumming drives, the guitars are loud and twangy, all riding keenly on a tune made for a corner jukebox.

“Pretty Little Lights Of Town”, the harmony-rich and karaoke-inducing “Go On Home, Mr Johnson,” and the gospel-inspired, Dottie Rambo-penned, “I’m Gonna Leave Here Shoutin’ are personal favorites. The polished instrumental, “Moonrock,” proves there’s practiced versatility in the variety.

Jill Olson shows in addition to a voice made for the genre, she capable of pulling some of the album weight by offering 3 tunes. ‘I’m Not The Girl For You” is a tear-soaked tale of lovin’ and leavin’ – a perfect heartache for Olson’s sensitive and honest sharing. Her other cuts, “Thrift Store Cowgirl” a tune of hoped-for day dreaming and “Queen Of King City,” with Olson’s ambition of making a geographical mark, all prove that a gal in the band, when she’s as talented as Olsen, is a recording plus.

My take on We Never Close? I loved it. Two weeks on high rotation in my car gives you the clue. It’s a fun outing. It shuffles along with a steady presence, pulling you towards the floor with every tune. Musically, there’s not a dud in the pack. For an album of honed and lyrically satisfying tunes, this is one band not to miss when they hit your local bar; and this is one album you need for the collection…after all, they are California’s finest. - Country Stars Online


"Forget Fashion – Red Meat Gets Fans Laughing, Drinking, and Dancing"



“Country” has attracted several shifting meanings and taken some well-deserved beatings over the past few decades. The current kings and queens of Nashville's favorite export — Keith Urban, Kenny Chesney, Tim McGraw and Faith Hill, Sara Evans, Toby Keith, Sugarland, et al. — have more in common with post-outlaw country 1970s rockers and romantic MOR pop than with harder-edged country icons like Hank Williams, George Jones, Patsy Cline, Johnny Cash and Bakersfield honky-tonkers Buck Owens and Merle Haggard.

But while honky-tonk may be currently marginalized by mainstream country, it lives on in club land, nurtured by the passion of musicians and fans who like to drink and dance. LA has a long history of hosting honky-tonk, whether nurturing new bands in its multicultural midst or welcoming travelers from out of town. In recent years the trend has been toward Western-shirted, bellbottom-wearing fans of Gram Parsons, the visionary and sadly doomed artist who, in tandem with Byrds and Flying Burrito Brothers bandmate Chris Hillman, began twining country with rock, R&B, soul, gospel, folk and bluegrass in the late 1960s. Parsons' open-minded melding of glamour and traditional American music plays well with Hollywood hipsters.

Elsewhere, however, a staunchly traditional contingent favors grittier honky-tonk by the likes of the Hacienda Brothers and Red Meat over hippified, cosmic Americana. This week, Oakland quintet Red Meat makes a mini-tour of LA.

Red Meat is promoting a new CD, “We Never Close,” produced by Dave Alvin (who also helmed the band's well-received 2001 album “Alameda County Line”) and engineered and mixed by Mark Linett at his studio in Glendale. It's packed with chicken- pickin'-studded invitations to the dance floor like “Honky Tonk Habit,” “Pretty Little Lights of Town,” “Queen of King City” and “City Slicker,” steel-washed weepers such as “Sunday” and “I'm Not the Girl for You,” an electric instrumental showcase for lead guitarist Michael Montalto (“Moonrock”) and even a lighthearted gospel track (“I'm Gonna Leave Here Shoutin'”).

Comprised of transplanted Midwesterners with a penchant for retro thrift-shop wear, Red Meat's doubtless not pretty or hip enough for Hollywood or CMT. But they're a kick in the pants live; wisecracking frontman Smelley Kelley is particularly notorious for his ribald humor onstage, and he and harmony-singing bassist Jill Olson tease out double entendres from between the lines of classic two-steppers. By old-school standards, country or otherwise, the truest test of a club band is the dance floor, where fashion's trumped by a steady shuffle. Red Meat knows how to deliver the goods.
- Pasadena Weekly


"Spirit of Midwest Hasn't Left these West Coast Rockers"

Spirit of Midwest hasn't left West Coast rockers

Sometimes it pays to be slightly out of place, to stand out from your surroundings just enough to get noticed.

Take the case of Red Meat, a traditional country band comprised of transplanted Midwesterners living in San Francisco.

The group has come up through the indie ranks to achieve some national notoriety by bringing country music of the B.G. Era (that's Before Garth) to the home of psychedelic rock, dot-com bubbles and lefty politics.

Its songs can be heard in the critically acclaimed movie "Monster's Ball" and on a compilation album of songs from popular NPR program "Car Talk."

Red Meat comes to Springfield at 8 p.m. Saturday to open the Big Smith and Barbecue show at Juanita K. Hammons Hall for the Performing Arts.

But the best place to catch Red Meat's music is in barrooms across the country, especially the West Coast.

"You wouldn't think it would be popular here, but it is," says guitarist and singer Scott Young, a somewhat shy fellow who was born in Springfield and is first cousin to the five members of Big Smith.

"... A lot of people that live (in San Francisco) are from somewhere else, like the Midwest," he says. "They come out here and they need to get their country fix somewhere. That's where we come in."

The band looks forward to its Springfield stop.

"Every time we pass through the Midwest we play Springfield because we gotta see the cousins," says singer Smelley Kelley, whose real first name is David. He adopted his stage name because a moniker so plain doesn't do justice to his gregarious personality.

"Anybody who knows Big Smith always enjoys us once they hear us," Kelley says. "There's definitely a connection in the songwriting, what with Scott being first cousins with those boys."

Young possesses the same talent for clever word play as his Missouri kin, Kelley says, except "it comes off a little bit more city and honky tonk rather than hillbilly and bluegrass."

Take the bridge of Young's song "That's What I'm Here For" from the band's third and newest album, 2001's "Alameda County Line":

"That's what I'm here for, and therefore don't hesitate to call / I'll be right there for to care for you anytime at all / I'll stick to you like Krazy Glue and give you love sincere / I'll make it my career, that's what I'm here for."

Young lived in Springfield until he was 6 years old, when his family moved to Keokuk, a Mississippi River town in southeast Iowa where he met Kelley.

The two connected in junior college when Kelley says they started bonding through music, "hangin' out in bars, sittin' on the hoods of cars down by the Mississippi River listening to Hank Williams songs — doin' the Midwestern thing."

Meanwhile, future Red Meat member Jill Olson was growing up in Ottumwa, learning bass and singing in her school choir.

The three moved to the Bay Area for different reasons in the late 1970s and early 1980s. Young and Kelley eventually became roommates and joined a band called the Genuine Diamelles, which they describe as sounding like a "psychedelic glee club."

They met Olson, who was in a pop-folk band called the Movie Stars, at a pickin' party.

They sensed "some familiar Midwestern thing about her," Young says, and started talking about their hometowns.

"We said 'Ottumwa? Like Iowa?'" Kelley recalls. "Like there's an Ottumwa anywhere else."

When the Movie Stars and the Genuine Diamelles broke up at the same time in 1993, Young and Kelley asked Olson and Movie Stars guitarist Michael Montalto (an Ohio native) to join their new country band. Drummer Les James was recruited and Max Butler replaced original steel pedal player Steve Cornell in 1998.

Influenced by the Bakersfield, Calif., sound of Buck Owens and Merle Haggard, the Western swing of Bob Wills, Ozarks bluegrass and the classic songs of Loretta Lynn and Johnny Cash, Red Meat brought San Franciscans real country music.

The band released an indie album, "Meet Red Meat," in 1997. It reached No. 18 on Gavin's Americana chart and spawned a Top 5 single in France.

Using that modest success and near stalker-like phone calls as leverage, Olson managed to convince Grammy-winning roots-rock guru Dave Alvin to produce the band's next album, "Thirteen."

Alvin was drawn to Young's songwriting and the band's traditional sound akin to The Derailers (which he produced) and BR549.

"I think our music got a little big more complex when we started working with him," Kelley says. "He made everybody feel like, 'Yea, this is valid. This isn't just bedroom music.'"

Alvin, too, has connections to Springfield: Local drummer Bobby Lloyd Hicks and keyboardist Joe Terry record and tour with him, and he was partly responsible for the Hightone label signing local bluesman Clarence Brewer.

The band stood out among its California peers and attracted an array of fans, including a film school student named Matt Chesse, whose recent credits include film editor of "Monster's Ball." Chesse had input on the movie's soundtrack and remembered Olson's song "Broken Up and Blue."

"I knew we were in that (movie), but it still caught me off guard when that juke box came on in that scene," Young says. "The first thing that came to my mind was, 'Those people are totally ripping off our sound.'"

The pit orchestra played the song when Halle Berry came to the stage to accept her Academy Award for best actress.

Young's own "Under the Wrench" — a tribute to a '64 Dodge Dart that's "had the same starter ever since Jimmy Carter" — appears on the "Car Talk" program's "Car Tunes Vol. 1" album.

Red Meat's success has allowed it to tour nationally under its own name and share bills with the likes of Buck Owens, Alabama and BR549.

When not on tour, Red Meat's members hold day jobs in the Bay Area and work on new songs for the next album.

Playing the heartland, especially Springfield and Texas, occasionally stirs up a longing for home in Kelley and Young.

"It crosses my mind," Young says. "But ... it's hard to make music connections (in the Midwest). ... It took us a long time to build up a network of music friends."

Besides, Kelley wouldn't want to mess with a good thing.

"The great beauty of this band is we still like talking to each other; still like making music together," he says. "That's a real difficult thing to obtain. It's like being in a relationship." - Springfield (MO) Press-Democrat


"Red Meat"

ELKO — It was a toe-tapping, finger-snapping good time at the mystery show Thursday night at the Western Folklife Center.

Country music group Red Meat played an eclectic set of bluegrass, western, fiddle and gospel tunes for a full house at the G Three Bar Theater.

“I guess now that the mystery’s over, we’re not the ‘mystery meat’ anymore,” lead singer Smelley Kelley told the audience.

The five-member Northern California group has released four albums and performed around the world.

Song topics ranged from vocalist and bass player Jill Olson’s hometown of Ottumwa, Iowa, to what it’s like to work in an office all day.

Southern California surfer-style music quickly changed to Midwest blues.

“I think this is the first time the word ‘gnarly’ has even been used at this festival,” Olson said.

During songs, Kelley often danced on stage as his fellow band members took turns soloing. Western Folklife Center staff members joined in the fun by dancing in the aisle.

The upbeat mood quickly changed to the blues with a song about the “highway of heartaches.”

“I got two lanes of loneliness and a long way to go,” the band sang.

Before Red Meat performed, Montana poet and rancher D.W. Groethe kicked off the show.

One of Groethe’s poems was about the frustrations of working on a beat-up old truck in freezing cold weather.

“I swear I’d sell my soul for one good heater,” said one line of the poem.

Groethe’s recited poems about a variety of topics, from pest control to cowboy culture.

Through his poems, he poked fun at certain aspects of cowboy culture, such as a free bar or fatty foods.

“If it looks like it’s headed for the arteries, it’s my meal,” Groethe recited.

Groethe’s last poem took a more serious tone, as he reflected on his grandfather’s life. - Elko (NV) Daily Free Press


"A Country Band from the Mission"

"What's a nice country band like you doing in a town like this?" Red Meat, a San Francisco band that plays hard-core country music, has gotten used to the question since it started playing in a Mission District garage seven years ago.

"I'd been in folk-rock-punk bands most of my adult life," said Red Meat spokesperson and bass player Jill Olson. "I thought it'd be nice to have a band without hyphens, just pure country music, without the Kenny G influence" that dominates today's country mainstream.

Red Meat arose from the ashes of the Movie Stars, a hyphenated folk-pop band Olson founded in the '80s. "I put most of my adult life into (the Movie Stars,) but the pop music grind wore me down. Toward the end of the band, we did more and more country stuff. I'd already met (guitarist and songwriter) Scott Young and (singer) Smelly Kelly, who were from Iowa like me. They were in the Genuine Diamelles and their band mates were complaining that they were too country, so we decided to pool resources."

Red Meat -- which includes Michael Montalto on guitar, Les Jones on drums and Max Butler on pedal steel guitar -- started gigging in 1993. Soon after, the band created Ranchero Records and released its debut, "Meet Red Meat." The album's solid songwriting and exuberant musicality moved it to No. 18 on Gavin's Americana chart, won the band an S.F. Weekly "Wammie" as best roots band and produced a top-five single in France with "Texas Texas."

But for its second project, the band wanted an outside producer. Enter ex- Blaster and roots rock demigod Dave Alvin.

"I kind of stalked him until he agreed to produce the album," Olson said. 'I was a big Blasters fan in college and liked what he did (as producer) with Big Sandy and Rosie Flores, so I got his phone number from a friend and started calling him. Finally he said, 'You're really buggin' me. Send me the damn CD and I'll see if I like it.' "

Alvin liked it, and produced "13," Red Meat's second album, as well as the band's latest, "Alameda County Line." "Dave made us work hard. He has us rewrite lyrics and melodies and pushes to get a sharper, better sound out of us."

And while the band steadfastly clings to its country roots, it's also brought a bit of protest music into the mix. The title track of "Alameda County Line" tells the not uncommon story of a San Francisco band that can't afford to live in the city because of the booming dot-com economy. "We'd gotten evicted from Downtown Rehearsal Studios and had to find a place in Oakland," Olson said. "Several band members live in the East Bay now, and we always write about the things that happen to us, so it was a natural."

Olson's day job is still in San Francisco, and while she's excited about Friday's CD-release party at the Great American Music Hall with the Blazers and Deke Dickerson, reality does intrude now and again.

"How long can we keep (playing music and working day jobs)? I don't know. There's no financial reward, but we love doing it, none of us has kids and it's more rewarding than watching TV."

Dickerson says he just likes good music. "I don't stop to think if it's roots or alt country," the guitar ace and singer said. "I gravitate to the stuff I dig, which tends to be from the '60s and '50s -- the playing was better and the feeling was more soulful. I'm not old enough to have known it the first time around, so it's not nostalgia. It's just that 99 percent of the world only listens to what's popular at this current moment, so I get lumped into the retro gang. I just call it good music."

DEKE DICKERSON

Deke Dickerson, like Olson, Young and Kelly, grew up in the Midwest -- Missouri in his case -- and credits his dad's record collection for his good taste. "My dad loved Duke, Elvis and Hank and took me to my first concerts, which were Willie Dixon and Bill Monroe. You couldn't ask for a better introduction to live music."

Dickerson's first band, Untamed Youth, played post-punk surf music. "When we got to California, I said this is it. You can't make it big in Missouri, so like those other hillbillies, I packed it up and moved to Bev-er-ly, although I only made it as far as Burbank."

Dickerson became half of Dave and Deke, an acclaimed roots-flavored band, before going solo and signing with Oakland's High Tone label. "Rhyme, Rhythm and Truth" is his third album for the logo. "I wouldn't say I'm making a living at this," Dickerson joked. "But I don't have a day job."

THE BLAZERS

The Blazers, like their compadres in Los Lobos, grew up in East Los Angeles and play a blistering mix of rock, blues, country and Mexican folk music. "We grew up with those (Lobos) guys," said Blazer Rubon Guaderrama, who plays guitar and writes songs with the band's other founding member, Manuel Gonzales.

"We all played in different bands together, so we have a common approach, but each band has its own style. People like definitions -- if you serve stew, they want to know if it's beef or pork. That carries over to music: Is this rock or Mexican or blues? It would be nice if they'd take a bite before they decide if they like it."

Guaderrama and Gonzales met in 1971 at Roosevelt High School, but didn't team up until the early '90s when they began writing together. "The best bands,

going back to the Beatles, write their own stuff, so we decided to try it." When the duo had an arsenal of good tunes, they recruited a rhythm section and started the Blazers, playing first at weddings and parties.

""We grew up with rock 'n' roll, blues and cumbias (a Colombian rhythm that's also pop ular in Mexico) so that's what we played. (In our neighborhood), if you can play one Chuck Berry tune (for the kids) and one cumbia (for the parents) you'll get a lot of gigs.'' - San Francisco Chronicle


"Best Country Band"

Don't dare label Red Meat altcountry or Americana. It is, first and foremost, a country band, drawing primarily from the sparkling, twang-laden, whiskey-spiked well of the Bakersfield sound (cf Buck Owens, Merle Haggard), as well as from iconic honky-tonker George Jones. But neither is it retro or purist: Pop/rock and bluegrass influences are evident, and the songs' subjects cover everything from answering machines to S/M to the terminal gentrification of San Francisco. The act has three fine, distinctive lead singers in Smelly Kelley (suave and salty), Scott Young (also on guitar, fiddle, and trombone, and the primary songwriter), and Jill Olson (bass). Their harmonies recall the genetic harmonies of the Louvin Brothers and the yearning duets of Loretta Lynn and Conway Twitty. Guitarist Michael Montalto provides snap-cracklin' string-bending, and drummer Les James supplies jet-age propulsion. (Pedal steel guitarist Max Butler often joins the group onstage.) Unlike some "roots" bands, Red Meat doesn't attempt to convince you how "down home" it is: Since its members are expatriates from Iowa and Oklahoma, all they got to do is act naturally. - SF Weekly


"Honky Tonk Tour"

They stood in the back room of the El Rio, a bar on Mission this side of 29th Street, sunshine splashing through the plate-glass window facing the patio, glistening the bottles in their hands, winking gold in the half-light. They were telling road stories, one tumbling after another, about Nashville and Hollywood and that place out in Anaheim.

"Linda's Doll Hut, I think it was called - a card-club place," said Jill Olson. Scott Young said, "Cars parked out front were the kind you see in old Archie comic books."

Smelley Kelley nodded. "They'd been told we were a rockabilly band . . . weren't too happy when we first started playing. Big guys, gave us a good scare. But then they realized we were honky-tonk and they warmed right to it. Had us do an encore, told us, "This is real good.' "

Olson talked about setting up in a bar, taking time to tune guitars, when a man called out, "Just play something!" And she remembered a crowd so dead to country music that the band played surf tunes until someone yelled, "Play something with lyrics, dammit!"

There were those jumping youngsters in Jack's Sugar Shack at Hollywood and Vine, and all those strangers in smoky bars who were talking through a drink before turning to hear the band, getting caught up in the country of it all.

"You give us a room of 15 to 20 people, start them out saying, "Aw, this band can't be no good, they've got cowboy hats on,' and we can get 'em," said Kelley. "You give us enough time, we can do that."

Red Meat, born in a Mission garage in April of '93, "plays country music - no hyphenated descriptions, no disclaimers," with some swingabilly on the side. It's been doing that for more than five years now.

On Saturday the band will celebrate the release of its second CD - "Thirteen" - with Johnny Dilks and the Visitacion Valley Boys and Jeff Bright and the Sunshine Boys at the Transmission Theatre, 11th and Folsom streets. Before the 10 p.m. Transmission show, Red Meat will make an afternoon appearance at Amoeba Records on Haight, and on July 30 the band will dive head-first into its second CD at Fuel in San Jose.

" "Red Meat' was out of vogue for a while, but now it's bigger'n all get-out," said Kelley, who hails from Keokuk, Iowa. So does Young, the band's songwriter. Olson, who sings and plays bass, is from Ottumwa, Iowa, drummer Les James from Oklahoma, guitarist Michael Montalto from Ohio and steel-pedal player Steve Cornell from New York.

They share a love of country and honky-tonk, western swing and twanging heartbreak. For Olson it started with her first listen-to of Patsy Cline's "Greatest Hits" - " "Crazy,' "So Wrong for So Long,' I loved it," she said. For Montalto it was Buck Owens and "Act Naturally" - Ringo Starr's version. For Kelley, it was Hank Williams doing "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry."

" "Hear that lonesome whistle blow . . .' " said Kelley.

"It just gives you chills, that does. You can hear a junkie die in that one. A skinny, hillbilly junkie at that."

Kelley talked of Ralph Stanley and the Carter Family and bowed from the waist to George Jones, saying, "He's a traditionalist out the ass!" Country music hasn't been the same since "they started taking the banjos and pedal-steel out in the '60s," said Kelley. "Thought they were too good for all that."

For Scott, the music came through Owens and Johnny Cash and Cole Porter, who showed him the way to fine rhyming. He laughed, remembering his first attempts at song-writing, when he was 12 years old, growing up in the Ozarks. "I wanted to write something about Nashville," Scott said as he broke into a snatch of song that ended with, "I didn't have much luck, 'cause I only had a buck."

Scott's fun with words comes through in the band's first CD, "Meet Red Meat." "Highway of Heartaches" offers

"a trail of tragedy and woe-ho-ho . . . I've got two lanes of loneliness and a long, long way to go." There's

"Inner Redneck" ( "I'm gettin' in touch with the redneck side of me . . ." ) and "Nashville Fantasy" ( "I want to walk down that street where Hank Williams staggered, maybe even get to meet Merle Haggard" ).

Scott can't stop smiling, stanza to stanza. He rhymes Austin and Boston, jukebox and Luckenbach, Willie Nelson and "everybody els'n." In "One Glass at a Time" he writes, "I still remember how the loving of my honey was, I only hope her memory leaves before my money does. . . ."

He ends a line with, "We'll sing a song about a beautiful love, and make love like a beautiful song." One of his tunes is about "a 12-inch, 3-speed oscillating fan, sittin' on the floor in front of the divan." And then there's "Lolita," the song of a man who tattoos his lover's name on his arm before a break-up, then searches for another Lolita so the tattoo won't go to waste.

That one has the lines, "First I met Lolita Martinez, but I can't understand a word she says," and "Then I met Lolita Cabrillo, but it turned out she didn't care for me-oh. . . ."

It's kind of become the band's anthem, said Kelley -

"They probably wouldn't let us out of the building if we didn't play "Lolita.' "

The band is pretty happy with its songs on "Thirteen" and the CD's producer, Dave Alvin. "Knows his poop," said Kelley. "He'd tell you, "You sucked!' Got to where I was so tight you could've bounced a penny off any part of me. But he sure knows his stuff."

Red Meat is looking to go on the road again to spread the word about "Thirteen," as soon as the band can get its vacations together. Each member has another job - desktop publishing, advertising, security guard - and looks forward to each playing day. "None of us has kids or anything. This is like our family," said Olson.

They nodded to each other, starting another round of road stories, talking about the best things that've been shouted from below the stage. Scott, dressed in a black double-breasted suit, red tie and white cowboy hat, grinned and said, "Had a lesbian, one time, yell at us from the floor, "That s- - goes straight for me!' "

That brought some laughs, which followed the band from the back room to a patio peopled with Rhonda Flemings in silk jackets, Christopher Walkens in jackboots. Red Meat tuned up for "Highway to Heartache" in front of a crowd brought to life by Starlene and rolled to Moses by the Kountry K's. Kelley scrunched his eyes and pointed through the barbecue smoke to shout, "I knowed you was out there, Jaybird! God bless your little heart!"

As the band started in on another song the crowd, feeling great, leaned toward Kelley at the front of the stage. And Kelley, feeling great, leaned right back. - San Francisco Chronicle


"Honky Tonk from the Home of the Hippies"

Honky Tonk From the Home of the Hippies
San Francisco's Red Meat specializes in a rootsy sound that has won fans like Dave Alvin.


The California roots-country flavor of Red Meat's music recalls the style of Buck Owens and Merle Haggard, or even the sounds of the Maddox Brothers and Sister Rose.

But this brand of West Coast honky-tonk emanates not from those artists' respective hometowns of Bakersfield or Modesto, but from an unlikely place: San Francisco.

It surprises some fans to learn that this group of transplanted Midwesterners, which plays Sunday at the Cinema Bar in Culver City, was formed seven years ago in a Mission District garage.

"People have said they thought it was strange that we didn't move to Nashville or Texas, but we kind of like it here," said singer Smelley Kelley, 43. "I've lived here for 20 years now, and it's home. It's an open place, one that's accepting of weirdos. . . . And you're definitely a weirdo if you're a hillbilly living in San Francisco.

"But when you move to a larger city, you can lose some of your identity. Sometimes you even become something that isn't quite as good as what you came from . . . and in my case, I had to get back in touch with who I was. Forming Red Meat was the perfect way for me to do that."

Raw but promising, the group's 1997 debut, "Meet Red Meat," reached No. 18 on Gavin's Americana chart and launched the sextet on its first national tour.

The album also caught the ear of roots music guru Dave Alvin, who agreed to produce Red Meat's sophomore effort, "13," in 1998. The group earned praise while opening for Owens, Big Sandy & His Fly-Rite Boys, the Derailers, Asleep at the Wheel and the Blasters, among other roots-music notables.

With Alvin returning to the production chair, Red Meat's "Alameda County Line," which came out this week on Ranchero Records, not only fine-tunes the band's classic country sound, but also adds a new wrinkle or two.

*

Singer-guitarist Scott Young has emerged as the main songwriter among four in the band, and often sprinkles color and humor in with unusual rhyming schemes, as in "Nashville Fantasy": "I want to walk down the street where Hank Williams staggered / Maybe I'll even get to meet Merle Haggard."

"What struck me the most at first about the band was Scott Young," Alvin said. "I thought, 'Here's a guy who's a great songwriter, but he doesn't even know it yet.' I rarely made any suggestions, but when I felt a song could be better if we had a different verse, Scott--whether it was his song or another band member's--would leave the studio and return five minutes later with an amazing new verse."

With the exception of Steve Cornell--the band's pedal steel guitarist from New York--each member's roots touch small-town America. Kelley (born David Kelley) and Young come from Keokuk, Iowa, bassist Jill Olson is from nearby Ottumwa, electric guitarist Michael Montalto is from Ohio, and drummer Les James is an Oklahoma native.

They all grew up immersed in classic country music. Olson, Kelley and Young made separate treks to San Francisco in search of adventure, and in the early '90s, Young and Kelley were singing in an a cappella group while Olson and Montalto were members of a folk-pop band.

The two acts occasionally shared the same bill, and when each simultaneously split up--and with the four principals looking to return to their musical roots--the nucleus of Red Meat was born.

What are the group's chances in a pop-dominated country-music climate?

"All I know is that the most familiar scene after a Red Meat show is hearing someone who's been dragged to the show by a friend say, 'I didn't realize this is country music,' " Kelley said. "So I tell them, 'The next time somebody plays something awful for you and calls it country, you have my permission to tell them, 'No it ain't.' "

Alvin is convinced that classic honky-tonk will always have an audience.

"Like the Chicago blues, it's a style that will go in and out of vogue, but the Ray Price kind of shuffle, or the Buck Owens-Merle Haggard thing, will never go away," he said. "Whenever you go into a country bar, on the jukebox between Shania and Faith, you're gonna hear one of those songs--sooner or later." - Los Angeles Times


Discography

"Meet Red Meat -- 1996

"Thirteen" -- 1999

"Alameda County Line" -- 2001

"We Never Close" -- 2007

"Live from the World's Smallest Honky Tonk" -- 2010

"Girl with the Biggest Hair" b/w "Lolita" (single -- 1995)

OTHER
"Monster's Ball" (Lions Gate Films soundtrack)

"Rollergirls" (A&E soundtrack)

"Click & Clack's Compendium of Disrespectful Car Songs" (NPR compliation)

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Bio

Red Meat began in a Mission District garage in 1993. But they trace their musical roots much farther back – to the hard honky tonk songs of their youths in Iowa, Missouri, Oklahoma, and Ohio, as well as the rock music of the 60s and 70s that they grew up with. Throw in the Ozark gospel harmonies from Scott Young's childhood, and you have the basic backbone of the Red Meat sound. It was this sound that they unleashed on an unsuspecting San Francisco still reeling from the demise of a strong 80s punk rock scene. And in a city known for its unusual music and its off-kilter bands, Red Meat did the craziest thing yet: they returned to their roots, writing and performing hard Bakersfield-style country music to sometimes dumbfounded early audiences.

"Back when we started, nobody was playing this kind of music at all", explains Smelley Kelley, "We'd go into a bar, play our set, and win over these rockers and punk kids. Now it's become a lot more normal to see a country band in a Bay Area bar." And San Francisco now boasts one of the most vibrant twang scenes in America. After hundreds of gigs, five albums (three produced by Dave Alvin), national tours, European dates, sharing the stage with their idol Buck Owens and many other national acts, backing rockabilly legend Wanda Jackson on a tour of California, and movie and television soundtracks, Red Meat has found its place as one of the pre-eminent honky tonk bands in California. It's a lot of progress for five expatriate Midwesterners who found their muse in San Francisco so long ago. And with the recent release of their fifth album, "Live at the World's Smallest Honky Tonk", don't look for the progress to end anytime soon.