Album Notes

From Paris,Texas to Paris,France

Old Cowtown to the Barbary Coast

The Street Corner to the Cabaret

Altman's Nashville to Bogart's Casablanca...



THE TAMI SHOW

"No artifice, just art; no pretense, just perfect."

-Ron Curran, Bang Magazine

Founded in San Francisco in 1999 by Texas native Tami Means, The Tami Show inspired by the '60s variety show of the same name), began as a solo act, and has gradually morphed through various incarnations into a five-piece band, which includes Tony Watts on harmonica, Luis Moran on trumpet and vocals (both of whom appeared on the self-titled first LP), Todd Gleason on accompanying guitar and vocals, Matt Stromberg on drums, and Ms. Means on guitar, lead vocals, and everything else. With the current arrangement, there is a fuller sound, which still manages to be stark and melodic. Each instrument contributes just enough to make it's point, creating delicate harmonies with the others, while the whole thing moves along with the forcefulness and purpose of a steam engine. The songs are meticulously arranged, leaving some room for improvised inspiration, and ending up somewhere between a movie score, a bossa nova cabaret, and a rock n' roll hootenanny. The effect is dark, folky, mournful, uplifting, tough and sweet, part Chet Baker, part Kris Kristofferson, part Ennio Morricone, and a lot in between. All of these elements come together to produce a highly original and satisfying sound, making The Tami Show a musical experience not to be missed. While currently working on the follow-up to their self-titled cd which includes the gender bender romance of Bender to the gothic lust of Annabelle Lee, ( featured on NPR's All Songs Considered,) The Tami Show took a detour to record a couple of side projects; Grind My Nails, a live cd released by the French label Hinah, and Blue In Green, a collection of mostly early recordings enhanced by the addition of some recent improvised overdubs. Both the Self-titled and Blue In Green are available on CdBaby.com.


So, here's to the new old times

We could own this town, get everybody jumping until the floor caves in, have them clawing at the door-- mirrors, models, limos and cocaine--you know what I'm talking about. We could do it. But really we'd prefer to close down the dance hall amidst old streamers and a few lonely spinning bodies, courting their partners with nervous hands and tight smiles, in the fallen crepe paper shadows in a barn by the beach, on some dying, drizzling Sunday afternoon...

-T.S.