April

You’d think listening to the songs on The Riflebirds of Portland’s April would amount to a trip down what one song calls Memory Street. And for those of us lucky enough to have known them when the album emerged in 1989, these songs can bring back some fond memories of long-gone days. But what really matters here is how timeless it all sounds. The sweet, deceptively simple melodies, the complexity of feeling, the spare but effective production, all sound perfectly contemporary. Springtime, like youth, may be fleeting. But the joys of The Riflebirds of Portland’s April persist. Listen.

– Peter Ames Carlin, author of New York Times bestseller Tonight in Jungleland: The Making of Born to Run (January 2025)

The Riflebirds of Portland
Liner notes for the album April (1989)

The Story of April

Strange that the music on this 80s album doesn’t feel dated. The sounds are organic, the musicians acquit themselves well on their instruments, and the singer is in good voice. It’s the story of any musical group that gives a decent performance. Behind all that work and luck, music itself is infinitely greater than the most talented musician. The wonder of that first chord never fades. So to make an album that holds up passably well is a testimony to the basics, which may be said to require–and a child shall lead them–an openness to wonder.

The particulars in this instance are flattering to no one. The Riflebirds had played hundreds of local gigs and we were burnt out and low on funds. Drummer Kevin Jarvis had relocated to LA. His replacements didn’t love the band, and some of the early magic faded. Kevin Kraft was playing solo gigs. Lee and Kate were newly married and weighing their options.

Then along came Marvin, Marvin Etzioni of Lone Justice fame, L.A. Marvin with his self-confidence and his infectious energy, and he got us going again. Mike Danner joined us, bringing the cool insight that simpatico keyboard players bring to the proceedings, and soon we found ourselves in that strange, childlike place of wonder. Lee started writing. Kate couldn’t get a single day off from her job at Lewis & Clark College – she’d been honest with her boss about the album-in-progress – but she made the afternoon commute to Dogfish Studio in Newberg, Oregon and sang better than we understood at the time. Kevin Kraft honed new styles on his Les Paul Goldtop. Kevin Jarvis kept the beat while playing original and inventive parts.

We released the album on cassette in 1989 with the worst cover art I have ever seen. Shortly afterward, Kevin Jarvis went back to LA, Lee and Kate moved east, and Kevin Kraft stayed behind with a sad story to tell. The Riflebirds, a pretty good little band in their day, were no more. Only the master tapes sat on a shelf in Marvin’s house, where he would find them in 2025. If this story were a myth, we would say the band died and came back to life. That is our preferred version of the story.

– Lee Oser

Soon after the album’s release, “Pieces of Time” was included on the College Music Journal (CMJ), a coveted spot on their CD sampler. I had just produced Toad the Wet Sprocket’s Pale, which helped get them signed to Columbia Records. The label expressed interest in The Riflebirds but the band had no interest in staying together.

Not only does the sound of the band feel current, but the songwriting stands the test of time as well.

– Marvin Etzioni