With iconic garage-punk trio the Oblivians, with the Parting Gifts (his collaboration with the Ettes’ Coco Hames and Jem Cohen), with a legion of other one-offs and defunct projects, and, for the past 13 years with driving rock ‘n’ soul revue the Reigning Sound, Greg Cartwright has chased various traces of American rock and pop to arrive at something singularly his. Still, with his legacy perfectly well cemented among garage-rock aficionados and discerning vinyl-heads, Cartwright is still chasing the unexpected. The Reigning Sound’s latest album, Shattered, is the band’s sixth proper full-length, a follow-up to 2009’s Love And Curses, and its debut for Merge. Cartwright will be guest editing magnetmagazine.com all week. Read our brand new feature on him.
Cartwright: Growing up in Memphis, I spent a lot of time at my grandmother’s house. Summers were a double header of thrift stores and yard sales that lasted all week. I learned what a quarter was worth, what I liked and how to negotiate its price. Her house was full of the childhood possessions of my father and his siblings. Their toys, records, books and clothes were like my inheritance in a way. My grandmother was a great seamstress and did all the alterations in our family. She also made me fantastic costumes from patterns. For about eight years, I was the only grandchild, and it was great.
Rather than focusing on the musical trends of my peers, I laid on the molded carpet of her living room floor with my portable record player and listened to rock ‘n’ roll 45s while building model cars. I don’t know if it was the glue or the 45s, but it shaped my musical taste for the rest of my life. When I was about 13, my desire to play guitar was pretty well-known to everyone in my family, and pretty soon a guitar and amp that had belonged to one of my uncles came down from grandma’s attic. Then, a few years later, I made friends with a guy who played snare in the marching band. He said he could likely play a full kit if we could get one. She overheard our conversation, and the next thing I knew she was pulling a Slingerland drum kit out of the attic. Bam!, just like that we had a full drum kit. At this point I began to wonder what wasn’t in her attic and over the years it seemed more and more like a bottomless treasure chest. Slot cars, metal robots, rockets … Even at the age of eight, I knew that modern toys were absolute crap compared to what came out of her attic. All this stuff shaped me to a degree, and it occurred to me hat this may be a common experience for people of my generation. All of us falling under the spell of all those incredible hand-me-downs. Anyway, nothing will ever match the magic of your grandmother’s house in the summer. Thanks to all those grandmothers and especially mine.
