Nouveaux – And This Is How I Feel: If only the wind would whisper words, then at least ONE streaming service would carry this album.

Artist: Nouveaux
Album: …And This Is How I Feel
Year: 1996
Grade: A-

In Brief: Call me a sentimental fool, but I still adore the transition to lush acoustic rock that this short-lived CCM band made on their second and final album back in the mid-90s. It’s absolutely baffling to me that the cheesy hair metal-lite sounds of their debut Beginnings can still be heard on a few modern streaming services, but all traces of their far superior follow-up seem to have been scrubbed from all but a few obscure corners of the internet. This one’ll take some effort to dig up, but I think the songwriting and musicianship are strong enough to make it worth your while.

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Folks who listen to music primarily on streaming services, I have a question for you: Do you ever get the itch to take a walk down memory lane, look up an old favorite album on your streaming service of choice, and wonder why it’s not there? This doesn’t happen to me very often, but it’s rather glaring when it does. I actually resisted signing up for Spotify for several years due to fears that they might not have a complete catalogue for some of my favorite artists – a fear which turned out to be largely unfounded, but when I do find that an album is missing, my heart sinks a little. In almost all cases I still own the album on CD, so what am I even complaining about here? It’s more about sharing my love of the music than actually listening to it myself – sure, I could just pop that old album into the CD-ROM device on my computer (yes, I actually still have one!), rip it to iTunes, and listen to it that way. But I can’t put the songs on playlists to share with others, and I can’t embed the album here on my blog when I’m writing up a nostalgic review of it. It’s got to be one of the lowest-priority first world problems in existence – but still, I’m guessing at least some of you out there have felt my pain. Usually there’s at least a halfway decent explanation for this. Maybe it’s a high-profile artist who has a bone to pick with a streaming service – Taylor Swift, Tool, and even The Beatles were famously not on Spotify for many years until legal arrangements were finally worked out, and this year saw the exodus of conscientious objectors like Joni Mitchell and Neil Young from the streaming service. Or maybe it’s something on the other end of the spectrum – an artist nobody’s ever heard of that only ever released their work independently, or on some long-defunct label, and thus it isn’t going to end up on any streaming service unless the artist themselves is still around and proactively interested in making it available. But what’s really weird is when it’s an artist who has stuff on Spotify, just not the album you want. And you can’t think of any reason why the one album wouldn’t be there when other stuff released on the same label, or that seemed to attain more or less the same level of popularity, is there for the taking.

I bring this up because the album I’ve chosen as my 1996 “nostalgia review” selection is one of those glaring omissions – probably the most glaring one for me, personally. Nouveaux‘s sophomore release …And This Is How I Feel is probably a record that nobody reading this has ever heard of, unless (like me) you were big into Christian rock in the mid-90s. It had some minor hits on Christian radio, but nothing that really translated to long-term success for the band, who split up not long after its release. It’s not the kind of thing I’d expect a modern-day streaming service to carry, except for the fact that you can go listen to the group’s 1994 debut, Beginnings, which was released on the very same now-defunct label Benson Records. I listened to a ton of stuff from that label back in the day – some fairly big name CCM acts like 4Him, DeGarmo & Key, and Carman (yikes!) were on their roster at one point or another, and that stuff’s all present and accounted for on Spotify. Listen to the only Nouveaux record available there, and you’d get the impression that they were some sort of wannabe Bible Belt version of Nelson, with fist-pumping hair metal anthems about winning the culture war for Jesus alongside a handful of melancholy arena rock ballads and so forth. Some of it was fun when I was a teenager, but this sound was already on its way out the door in mainstream rock at that point, and none of it has aged particularly well. It’s really not how I want this band to be remembered.

Album #2 was a drastic change that, for all intents and purposes, completely rebooted Nouveaux’s musical identity, and I think it’s a crying shame that probably very few people will ever stumble across it at this point. The group shifted more toward a melodic acoustic rock sound, which might have lost them some youth group appeal but which was definitely more lush and mature in its instrumental approach, and more thoughtful and less pulpit-pounding and guilt-slinging in its lyrics. With its reverb-heavy 90s production values (courtesy of production duo John and Dino Elefante, who had their names on tons of soft rock and adult contemporary CCM records released at around that time) and its openly religious lyrics, I’m not even going to pretend that this record isn’t showing its age or its niche appeal, but I wholeheartedly believe there’s an artistry to it that transcends those aspects of it. When the names of God and Jesus Christ were invoked here, it was less as a Gospel tract to get someone else to believe, and more as an expression of wonder and gratitude, coming from a place of admiration at the creativity expressed in the beautiful world around them, and in the fragile human hearts coming to terms with the fact that they were wonderfully made and deeply loved. Several of these songs were unabashedly romantic, which for Christian music at the time seemed like a rarity – sure, there were lots of virtue-signaling songs about the moral value of a healthy marriage, and of chaste relationships before reaching that point, but there seemed to be relatively few from the point of view of a single person who just wanted to know what the experience of being in a relationship was like (which was me at the time), or that just explored the ins and outs of being in love without having to self-consciously name-drop God to make the song “Christian”. Listening to a lot of the songs on this record just made my heart soar, and the band seemed comfortable in their new skin, not forcing any of the songs to be something they weren’t, either stylistically or for the sake of pandering to an audience preoccupied with counting religious references. While I can think of some soft rock or folk/rock acts who bore passing similarity to Nouveaux’s revamped sound (Jars of Clay, most notably), in a lot of ways this feels less like an attempt to shed their old hair metal-lite sound in favor of then-current 90s trends, and more of a throwback to rock sounds of the 70s and 80s, with gooey bass lines and crowd-pleasing key changes at climactic moments and stuff like that. (John Elefante having once been the lead singer of Kansas, with Dino as his songwriting partner, probably helped with that.) They just did it in more of an organic fashion, without throwing in all the synth and keyboard sounds that bands of those eras liked to play around with. Lead singer Paul Alan and guitarist/backing vocalist Steve Ashley bounced a lot of creative ideas off of each other in addition to locking into some pretty tight harmonies together, and my appreciation of this aspect of their sound might help explain why I got super into harmony-heavy bands like Eisley and Fleet Foxes in the 2000s.

I’ll admit that my very personal attachment to this obscure record has grown over the years – I actually only liked it for a handful of songs back in the 90s, and my appreciation for some of its less overtly catchy, but more instrumentally stunning tracks grew in later years, as I learned to play the acoustic guitar for myself. The band was long gone by the time I used their single “Maybe Tomorrow” as a prelude to proposing marriage to my wife. It’s the one song of theirs that you might have stood a chance of hearing if you heard anything from these guys back in the 90s, but I can almost guarantee that whenever I retell our proposal story to people now, they generally haven’t heard the song, and my only recourse is to point them to a terrible-quality YouTube “video” in order to understand the sentiments I was trying to convey. This band’s meek legacy hasn’t been completely scrubbed from the history books, I guess – Paul Alan went on to have a brief solo career, putting out a pair of more pop/rock-focused records in the 2000s (and of course those are on Spotify – go figure!), and while I had pretty much stopped paying attention to Christian radio by that point, it seems like he had some modest success there. What happened to the rest of the band, and whether they appreciate the small but meaningful impact this record had, I have no idea. It seems unlikely at this point that …And This Is How I Feel will ever be in print again, so I suppose I’d better hang on to that CD!

INDIVIDUAL TRACKS:

1. Nice
This is just ten seconds of the band flubbing the intro to “Maybe Tomorrow”, having a dorky laugh at their own expense, and then giving it another go.
Grade: N/A

2. Maybe Tomorrow
So this is it – the absolutely huge love song (at least in my mind) that kicked off a short-lived new era for Nouveaux. The tonal shift after Beginnings is immediately apparent from the get-go in this song – driving acoustic guitar leading the charge, the bass sprawling all over the place, electric guitar used more for accompaniment than for triumphant riffing, drums that click and tap and give the song a sort of lightness on its feet rather than a heavy groove, and more of a “live band all in the same room together” sort of feel in general (although there were probably some vocal overdubs done after the fact, because the harmonies are stacked on this one). Paul Alan has dropped whatever glam-rock affectations he had previously, and he’s singing more clearly and earnestly, yearning to meet that special someone he’s never met who he just knows deep down in his heart will be his soulmate. The song’s kind of a wishlist for that future mate in some senses, and we’ve certainly heard songs like this in which a hopeless romantic songwriter yearns for their every dream to come true as their single days come to an end, but this one’s really more about the appreciation and admiration he wants to lavish that person with, and his pre-emptive gratitude to God for making it happen. It pretty much checked every box on the list of things that young Christian kids like me wanted to express about an experience I hadn’t yet had, that I wasn’t used to hearing a lot of songs about on Christian radio, so you can see why I got attached to this one in no time flat. Is it corny? Oh, you better believe it’s corny. I don’t know what “I’ll kiss the air that covers you” even means, but it sounds so damn beautiful when they lead off the chorus with that line, and the promises that follow it are a bit more concrete: “I’ll watch the moonlight dance in your eyes/I’ll hold you safely in my arms/Maybe tomorrow, you’ll be mine”. I actually found it unusual at first that this was such an up-tempo song, but the slick guitar melodies and the swiftly moving chord changes gave it an effortless momentum that I really think helped to set it apart from the schmaltzy ballads you usually get on this topic. You can see why this one was a no-brainer for me when I finally found that special someone and it came time to put a ring on her finger. This one probably would have become the overplayed crossover hit wedding song of the late 90s, if only Nouveaux had a bit more exposure. But nooooooooo, that dubious honor had to go to Bob Carlisle‘s execrable “Butterfly Kisses”. The world is just so unfair sometimes, y’know?
Grade: A+

3. Simply Beautiful
The second song builds on a theme that is pretty common across this album: That the natural world, in and of itself, is a beautiful thing, and it’s evidence of God’s handiwork for those with the eyes to see it. While I don’t think this idea in any way constitutes hard scientific proof, it’s a thing I’ve always had faith in deep down, and I find being out in nature compelling for that very reason. So naturally I’m going to connect to a lot of songs on this topic, at least if they’re well-written. And I think this one gets the job done nicely. It’s a bit of an oddity on this album, as it’s the only track to feature a time signature change midway through, with the first verse being in a tense, mid-tempo 4/4, the chorus sticking to 3/4, and the song sticking with 3/4 for the rest of its duration. It puzzled me a bit that it didn’t go back to 4/4 for the second verse, but I came to appreciate how the moody, angular acoustic chords got reinterpreted to fit the new pattern. There’s definitely a change in mood from the contemplative to the celebratory, as any sense of angst or navel-gazing that might be present in its opening moments gets washed away by peaceful serenity once the song is in full swing. The lyrics, pleading with a person who seems to be willfully blind to the creative expression of beauty all around them, paint one heck of a compelling picture in the chorus: “Peace like a river runs Into the setting sun/Mercy painting the sky/Nothing to analyze, making the simple wise/Looking through humble eyes/It’s beautiful.” The one thing that I’ll admit is slightly distracting here is the accordion, which comes in rather prominently at the song’s climax and outro – combined with the 3/4 beat, it threatens to turn a serious moment of reflection into a hokey circus waltz. But I think it was easier to poke fun at this sort of thing in the 90s, when the most commonly heard use of the accordion in mainstream music was in one of Weird Al‘s polkas. Closer to the turn of the century, when bands like Jars of Clay and Caedmon’s Call brought more of a rootsy renaissance to Christian radio, and especially later in the 2000s when indie bands like Arcade Fire started making old-timey instruments sound hip again, I think this might have played a bit better. (And honestly, it’s not like Toad the Wet Sprocket didn’t dabble in this sort of thing from time to time.) I can respect the band for making a move like this, not caring if it might be perceived as uncool by then-current mainstream or alternative rock standards.
Grade: B+

4. Never See the Day
I can only describe this song’s main riff as “a waterfall of guitars”. Once again, the electric is playing more of a rhythm guitar role while the acoustic leads the charge, making this fantastic run down the fretboard that I’m just dying to be able to pull off on my own. (I mean, it’s not that complex, I’m just an eternal amateur at the instrument.) This another romantic song that I like simply for its ability to be about a guy missing a girl when she’s far away, without having to shoehorn a ton of heavy-handed God talk in there just to get it played on Christian radio – there’s some oblique reference to prayer, but you hear that in tons of mainstream rock and pop songs, too. (I think this one did have at least some minor success as a single.) The lyrics almost revert to child-like, fairy-tale language, since Paul Alan is basically wishing upon stars and feeling no desire whatsoever to hold back on the hyperbole: “If a star fell from the sky/Every time I thought of you/There would be none/And if the moon would shine/All the while you’re on my mind/We’d never see the day.” This… doesn’t exactly hold up to astronomical rigor, but it’s adorable nonetheless. Thankfully this happened a tad too early to draw unfavorable comparisons to the sorts of gushy lyrics heard during the boy band boom of the late 90s… but either way, I think the group flexes their musical muscles more than enough on this nimble performance to dodge accusations of having gone too soft. And Paul holds those soaring high notes like a boss. There should be more sentimental rock songs that are this joyously up-tempo and full of fancy fingerwork, gosh dangit!
Grade: A

5. You Breathe
The first ballad on the record is also its most openly religious song thus far – basically it’s a Psalm-like prayer offered up by a man at a low point, when he’s feeling very weak and vulnerable. But he also feels a great sense of security in talking to God, even using the word “Daddy” to denote familiarity, much like how some in the Bible used the word “Abba” for “Father”. The idea being conveyed is that he’s never at too dark or distant of a place in his life that he can’t hear the still, small voice of God whispering on the wind, and he expresses gratitude for that. I think this song is quite beautifully constructed, pulling off elegant key changes between its verse and chorus, and later segueing into an out of the bridge in such a way that it gives the expected “go up a key for the final chorus” twist a bit more finesse. (Which reminds me, oddly enough, of one of my favorite early 90s songs, “You’re in Love” by Wilson Phillips, which was quite different stylistically but which followed a very similar pattern, key change-wise.) Both the rhythm and lead guitars are acoustic here, with some excellent fingerpicking on the classical guitar here, and Paul also provides some lovely piano accompaniment. This was one of the “sleeper hits” on the album that took me longer to appreciate than some of the more riff-heavy up-tempo numbers. Over the holiday break between the fall ’96 and spring ’97 semesters, I had come down with a pretty horrible case of pneumonia, and I think it was the first time in my life that being sick truly scared me and prompted me to cry out to God, because I didn’t understand what was happening and why it was taking so long to heal. That idea of God breathing when I barely had the strength to breathe was a profound one, so I got pretty attached to this one during the recovery process.
Grade: A-

6. If Only…
So, I’ve talked up “Maybe Tomorrow” as the big song that had the best chance of getting people hooked on this album, but for me, this was actually the track that convinced me to buy it. I hadn’t even heard “Maybe Tomorrow” yet, but this one blew me away the first time I heard it on some Christian music magazine sampler. Once again, the lead guitar riff is absolutely exquisite, this time giving the song a bit of a folksy prog rock flair with its precise finger-picking in a repeating pattern, circling systematically up and down again, like a bird doing spirals in the sky. Steve Ashley actually provides the lead vocal on the verses here before handing off to Paul for the pre-chorus, with some huge group harmonies coming in on the chorus. There’s a string section in the mix that might be guilty of nudging the production values into adult contemporary territory – definitely John Elefante’s doing, but I have to say his work on this album has aged far better than on his own solo work from that era. The time signature – which I think is in either 9/8 or 12/8, possibly shifting back and forth – helps to keep things classy, as do the intertwining guitars and the elaborate vocal arrangement. The premise of this one, much like “Simply Beautiful”, is that creation serves as the quiet evidence of God, if only we would pay attention to it. It kind of plays off of a verse from the book of Revelation, which states that if humans don’t speak of God’s glory, then the rocks themselves will cry out and do it for us. Nouveaux has imagined here that the rocks, trees, oceans, wind, and so forth are already doing this and always have been. Those who are misguidedly more militant in their Christian beliefs might misconstrue a song like this as a call to go proselytize to the folks around you in as loud and obnoxious a manner as possible, whereas I see it more as a simple message of God saying “I made this, I made you, and I love you.” I figure God will say what God’s got to say whether we humans participate in it or not, so I’d sure love to have more Christian rock songs about that, and less about guilt tripping us into recruiting people like it’s some sort of holy pyramid scheme. Sorry, got on the soapbox a bit there, how can I get this review back on track… Oh yeah! The key changes. Of course there are key changes. And just like in the track preceding this one, they are exquisite and dramatic and I love them to death. I have a strong mental association between this song and a personal experience, too… I first heard it right around the time I took a trip to Joshua Tree with some friends in the fall of ’96. The mysterious and magically beautiful place left its mark on my soul as I scrambled to the top of its bizarre stacks of boulders and looked out at the endless red and orange hues of a desert sunset. I always get that image in my head whenever this song plays. (It’s the one song that really evokes the place for me that is not on the obvious U2 album.)
Grade: A+

7. Larisa
If you had this album on cassette like I did the first time around, Side B fades in on the sound of overlapping female voices speaking in what I’m assuming is French, or perhaps a smattering of different languages, before shifting to English to drop the album’s title as a lead-in to the next track. If you had it on CD, then “If Only…” bleeds seamlessly into this intro.
Grade: N/A

8. Listen
While leading off with stronger drums and a more noticeable electric riff makes this a pretty good way to get the energy back up in the second half of the album, there’s an air of sadness and desperation in its lyrics that makes it seem almost like it could have once been the lead-in to “You Breathe”. The chorus even mentions breathing as it expresses its thirst for the presence of God that it hasn’t yet been assured of: “Like the air that I breathe, I need you/This image is so surreal/I don’t want to live without you/And this is how I feel.” Truth be told, I always thought this was a bit of an awkward way to drop the album’s title into a song, though I can’t honestly say whether the song or the album title came first. Something about the syntax doesn’t feel quite right, but that’s a minor gripe. It’s interesting to hear the guitarists sort of switching roles, with the acoustic as rhythm and the electric as lead, and the piano is back again for this one as well. It doesn’t have quite as massive a hook as some of its predecessors on Side A, and the harmonies in its bridge seem a tad weak compared to what I know this band is capable of. Despite those complaints, it’s still a solid performance. Basically at this point, we’ve found the floor. Nothing on this album gets less than a B from me.
Grade: B

9. Through Heaven’s Fields
I always thought it was weird that Steve Ashley took the lead vocal at the beginning of this song, but only for the first line before handing it off to Paul Alan. I guess it’s because the lyrics overlap in a way that would be awkward for Paul to sing all on his own, but it gives the false expectation that they’ll trade back and forth a few more times, as they did on “If Only…”, and this never happens. Not that I’ve got anything less than kudos for another strong lead vocal from Paul, who this time around seems to be bringing together a personal love story with his wish that this person could come to know God the way he does. I’m not gonna lie, it’s one those “I’m a Christian and I wish my lover/crush was a Christian sorts of songs”, and sometimes my younger self adored these sorts of songs (see the CCM pop classic “Wishes” by Out of the Grey, still one of my favorite songs by anyone ever), but for my older self, this sentiment can be hit and miss. I’d honestly give Nouveaux a “miss” on this one if it weren’t, once again, for the musical sophistication on display – the moody tension in the verse’s chord progression, the sly reference to Sting‘s “Fields of Gold” in the chorus (and now that I think of it, the two songs have similarly melancholy DNA), and especially the jaw-dropping acoustic solo in the bridge and outro here. This was a couple years before Burlap to Cashmere debuted, but that solo section sounds like something they might have cooked up. I always liked, but never quite loved, this song – maybe because its hook wasn’t as big as some of the others, maybe because I didn’t find the lyrics quite as compelling. (Surprisingly, this was one of the follow-up singles, even though to me it’s always felt like a deep cut.) I still think there’s a lot to love about the performance, though.
Grade: B

10. I’ll Cry, Too
Nouveaux goes into peak coffeehouse mode on this track – dual acoustic guitars, tambourines and bongos, that sort of thing – and it’s the sort of thing that might be jarring when heavier rock bands suddenly do it without warning (you sealed your own fate with “More than Words”, Extreme!), but thanks to Nouveaux’s sensitive-guy makeover on this record, it’s a perfect fit. The key, once again, is that these guys didn’t just revert to simplistic strumming – once again you have a nice balance between predictable pop song chords and clever key changes, and more of the expressive acoustic soloing that I just can’t get enough of. This song seems to build off of the sentiment of “Never See the Day”, in terms of Paul wishing he could be closed to a loved one who is far away and give her comfort, but the focus is more on empathizing with how she feels this time around. The distance is more emotional in physical in this case. He can see the expression in her eyes and observe her body language, but she seems distant, reserved, like she’s holding back a great sadness that she doesn’t want to explain to anyone. Rather than pushing her to spill her secrets, this song is content to say a quiet prayer for her from afar, not handing out pat answers to problems he can’t even begin to imagine, just hoping she’s able to find some grace and solace to help her through it all. Is it a bit mushy to promise you’ll cry a tear form every tear the other person cries? Yeah, he goes there. But I like that, while this song is very romantic and heartfelt in its tone, it’s less about “Please notice me and how I feel about you!”, and more about just wanting to hold space for the way she’s feeling. I’ve always found that to be a lovely sentiment.
Grade: A-

11. Wonder
We’re back to the “electric lead, acoustic rhythm” configuration for the album’s penultimate song, which is its one bona fide rocker. While it’s definitely still a notch mellower than most of Beginnings, there are moments here when Paul approaches the raspy intensity of some of his more hair-metal leaning moments on that album, because the song’s coming from a place of urgency and perhaps a bit of frustration, being sung to a person who he hopes would just WAKE UP ALREADY. The trick is that this one’s written from the point of view of God, and it’s basically addressing the uncertain soul who feels lost and is desperate for something to believe in, the perspective from which “Listen” and “You Breathe” were written. This one seems like a response – not so much a critical one, but definitely one that asks why it’s so hard for a person to believe when the signs and wonders they’ve been beginning for have been right there around them all along. I love the cadence of his words when his excitement seems to boil over in the second verse, appealing to memories from when this person was younger and found it easier to believe: “Do you remember when the valley echoed a peaceful song/And the deepest part of you was crying out to sing along?” Writing songs from the point of view of God is, obviously, quite tricky, as it’s a bit presumptuous to imagine that any of us knows exactly what God would say in a given situation. But what’s written here is consistent with a characterization of love and grace that goes far beyond any judgment. God could feel angry at being ignored, I suppose, or at being told his voice is inaudible when he’s been practically screaming the entire time, but instead I get the image here of a father who’s ready to come running the minute a person turns back towards him. Also, this song is a total JAM. It takes a little time to build up to peak intensity, but when it gets there, it’s glorious. The call-and-response between the group backing vocals and Paul’s lead in the chorus is really great, it definitely helps to bring this song’s energy level to a boil. And there’s an actual electric solo (!) in its intense final minute. You’d never confuse this for anything approaching even the pop side of metal, but after eight songs where lushness has won out over edginess most of the time, it’s nice to hear the band let loose and show us their more refined idea of what it means to rock out.
Grade: A

12. Chasing Shadows
Confession time: Though I’ve owned and loved this album for a quarter century, I never realized that this closing track was a Kansas cover. Well, durrrrrr, the obvious signs were right there in front of me. John and Dino Elefante wrote this song back when John was the lead singer of Kansas, and it was recorded for their 1982 album Vinyl Confessions, which apparently I should go check out because it’s regarded as a CCM classic (and as luck would have it, I’m right in the middle of a year-long 80s binge right now). Slipping in a cover of a song that had probably been influential on Alan and Ashley as songwriters probably seemed like a no-brainer. I do remember a few critics slagging this one for sounding too much like Kansas, but I honestly thought the song had been newly written by Nouveaux. Anyway, I’m a dum-dum. This is a pretty good, sorta-melancholy note to close the album on, though it’s another one of those tracks that took me a while to appreciate. The use of drum programming threw me off a bit when it’s otherwise not a factor on this album, as did the random female backing vocal. It made the song feel a bit more manufactured in the studio, and less like a live band performance – though I’ll note that once again the acoustic soloing is top-notch. Thematically, this one’s a really good fit for a lot of the subject matter of Nouveaux’s original songs, basically asking if mankind is asleep at the wheel, denying God’s existence because we’re too blind to see the obvious signs all around us. Paul Alan has done such a good job throughout this album of both inhabiting the person who feels like he can’t see God, the person who wishes someone could see God, and even God wishing someone could see God. That makes this song an excellent summation as the album gradually fades off into the sunset.
Grade: B

WHAT’S IT WORTH TO ME?
Nice/Maybe Tomorrow $2
Simply Beautiful $1.25
Never See the Day $1.75
You Breathe $1.50
If Only… $2
Larisa/Listen $1
Through Heaven’s Fields $1
I’ll Cry, Too $1.50
Wonder $1.75
Chasing Shadows $1
TOTAL: $15.25

BAND MEMBERS:
Paul Alan: Lead and backing vocals, piano
Steve Ashley: Lead and backing vocals, guitars
K.C. Smothers: Guitars, backing vocals
Kurt Lehman: Bass, backing vocals
George Pirelli: Drums

LISTEN FOR YOURSELF:
(Haha, I wish! At least some of this album is up on YouTube, I guess, so here’s “If Only…”)

USEFUL LINK:
(Debatable how useful this is, as the band is too obscure to have an official site still up, a Wikipedia article, or a Facebook page, as far as I can tell. But here’s proof that I didn’t make this album up out of thin air.)
https://www.discogs.com/artist/3140894-Nouveaux