Shivaree Unleashes a
Killer Shot in the Head

by Ed Yashinsky

Most bands tend to have highly stylized (although sometimes inaccurate) stories about how they formed. Usually it involves a chance meeting — like bumping into an old friend busking on a city street or grabbing the same obscure album in a record store or answering a cheesy classified ad. Wherever the meeting, the stories usually end with these people spending the whole night playing guitar and talking, and in the morning making a pact to become rock stars.

Sometimes, as in the case of Shivaree, the truth is a lot more amusing.

Ambrosia Parsley, a southern California native with deep West Virginia roots, found herself at a Los Angeles party one night listening to her demo material when Danny McGough (his real name) entered the room. "Danny is one of the coolest people I know, so when he hung out to listen it made me very nervous," explains Parsley. "The next day he called and left me a message saying, ‘Your music doesn’t suck as much as most stuff, so if you want to record sometime let me know.’"

Parsley and keyboardist McGough got together and recorded two songs in their friend’s studio. At that same time, Duke McVinnie (his real name) was driving from Oregon to San Diego for a gig. He stopped in L.A. and called the venue to find out the show had been cancelled; McVinnie was trapped in Los Angeles with $20 in his pocket, a car that wasn’t running very well and an acoustic guitar. He decided to crash at his friend’s house (where Parsley and McGough recorded), and later that night listened to their songs. While McVinnie liked what he heard, he thought he could do better, so he erased the guitar and bass parts, re-recorded them and went to bed. "When I arrived the next morning and I was so ticked off," says Parsley, "I wanted to scream at him, but then I started listening and realized what wasn’t working the day before sounded great. I waited for him to wake up, we talked a bit and Duke never left."

That alone would make a great band story, but the Shivaree saga goes a bit further. "A manager friend of ours asked to hear the demo and he sent it to a few people," says Parsley. "The next day we got an offer, and the next day we got another one, and then another one and several more that week. It was pretty hilarious. We just sort of said, well, I guess we’re a band, and this guy will be our manager."

While it took five years for Shivaree (the name is taken from a Wild West expression for raucous, drunken revelry) to release their debut CD, I Oughtta Give You a Shot in the Head for Making Me Live in This Dump, the band has kept busy. McGough toured with Tom Waits and the band recorded the entire CD once before scrapping the project. "We are such losers. We worked on it for a long time, and we went pretty crazy," explains Parsley. "Now none of us can listen to it. Next time I want to record the entire thing in two days."

Losers or not, I Oughtta Give You a Shot in the Head, is a complex record that thrives on Parsley’s intimate and extreme vocals, and McGough’s and McVinnie’s ability to coax unlikely guitar and keyboard wails out of their instruments. While critics have been comparing Parsley to everyone from Patsy Cline meets Marilyn Monroe to Gwen Stefani to Liz Phair to Sheryl Crow to Juliana Hatfield, Parsley remains ambiguous about specific influences. "Based on what’s been written about us in the past, I seem to be influenced by every woman who has ever taken a breath," jokes Parsley. "But honestly, I listen to so much music that I’m sure I’ve taken things from hundreds of people and turned them into something that sounds really confusing."

But truth be told, I Oughtta Give You a Shot in the Head, works well because it is so unconventional. While the CD has been picked up nationally on the strength of the stellar single, "Goodnight Moon," every song stands out as unique and otherworldly. Released quietly in October 1999, Shivaree did a series of residencies in Boston, New York, Baltimore, and Philadelphia, playing each city weekly for four straight weeks. "We wanted it to build real slow, if it was going to build at all," explains Parsley. "The residencies have given us the opportunity to recognize people as we go back through towns. And that is nice."

It has also given Parsley a chance to get over her dread of performing in front of people. "When we were first signed we hardly played out at all because I was so terrified of it," says Parsley. "Now I just go out on stage and act like a dick most of the time."