Anyone who is or was a musician or knows those who have fought for a hard-won living in those desolate musical trenches will appreciate “Another Year in the Minors.” It has more to say about the realities of the indie music maker, about the process of grinding it out, the notion of self-belief, the idea that a break is just around the corner as long as you keep your musical nose to the sonic grindstone, than any rock biography or musical self-help guide ever could.
As the sideman to the likes of Dawes, Diane Coffee and Haerts, Wayne Whittaker the man behind Pigeon Club knows a thing or two about treading the boards and understands the reality of the grassroots of the music industry, the often unadorned, nowhere to hide, what you hear is what you get, naked truth of making your way as a performer.
He is the wonderfully self-deprecating link between Neil Young and the late-era Beatles, between folk finesse and pop infectiousness via an indie sense of adventure, between past singer-songwriter traditions and forward-thinking creativity, between mature music-making and unabashed fun.
With an album of the same name now out and a chance to sample even more of his quick-witted humor and deft songs, there has been no better time to fall for Whittaker’s sonic charms. I know I have.
