Recording review: Lavender Country, Lavender Country (1973 reissue)

Landmark country music act may be raw, but broke down walls 

Important does not necessarily equal good. There’s no argument that the band Lavender Country was important. As the first openly gay country band, they were defacto activists, challenging both stereotypes and their audiences. They made a big regional impact with performances in their home town of Seattle and their eponymous 1973 album, but they didn’t receive national recognition at the time. When their work was rediscovered in 2000, Lavender Country found a home in the Country Hall of Fame archives in recognition of their significance.

The band’s frontman Patrick Haggerty was just the kind of interesting character to pull off this kind of groundbreaking step. He had a supportive father who advised him not to sneak around, and later he became active with the Gay Liberation Front. Politics aside, Haggerty was driven to catalogue his version of the gay experience with a simple, down-home country style. Speaking directly to his gay audience, he blended twang with a sweetly camp attitude on songs like “Come Out Singin’”, “Cryin’ These Cocksucking Tears”, and “Back In The Closet Again”. In the wake of the Stonewall Riots, but well before Gay Pride made national waves, Lavender Country provided a new voice that was all the more remarkable for being rooted in a traditional country sound.

The album opens with Haggerty’s chipper tone on “Come Out Singin’”, “Wakin’ up to say/ Hip hip hooray, I’m glad I’m gay,” but he bounces around from the minutia of sharing a life with another man to dealing with self-hatred and repression. It’s impressive that he sings so plainly about these issues, especially on the more serious songs like “Waltzing Will Trilogy”. Recounting the horrors of an era where homosexuality was listed as a pathology in the DSM to be treated with electro-shock, medication and institutionalization, Haggerty decries the injustices committed by the medical establishment, “They call it mental hygiene but I call it psychic rape.” His verses present a series of case studies to make his point and, from a purely rhetorical point of view, Haggerty accomplishes his mission. But there’s a fair amount of cognitive dissonance on display, too, and that’s one half of Lavender Country’s Achilles heel. The uptempo “picking and grinning” music sets a rollicking soundtrack for the brutal subject matter. The darker themes on this album rarely find suitable musical accompaniment.

The project’s execution is flawed, even though this kind of raw hillbilly country music is not technically demanding. Performers like the Carter Family have created great beauty within the context of simple melodies and arrangements. Unfortunately, Lavender Country comes across as amateurish. The rough piano work is out of tune honky-tonk, and the keyboard-driven rhythms can be stiff. On top of that, the fiddle player often meanders in search of the right pitch. Haggerty’s reedy voice hits the right notes, and his lyrics can offer a surprising turn of phrase, but those are rare gems. With the bulk of his attention on his message, he seems willing to live with awkward scans and trite rhymes. I can’t blame the band for their priorities, because more polish would not have made these songs any more of a mainstream success at the time, but the rough production makes this a hard album to sink into.

The two best tracks are the mournful folk of “Georgie Pie” and the odd-duck song “To A Woman”. This latter is not really country at all. Instead, fiddle player Eve Morris does a phenomenal job singing a progressive folk love song. Her rich, warm voice caresses the lines and she captures the art rock sound on which Renaissance would later build their career. It’s a remarkable track that doesn’t belong with the rest of the material. I’m guessing that it was the band’s consolation to Morris in recognition of her vocal talents.

Like the rest of American society, the ‘70s were a period of upheaval and falling walls for country music. Around this time, Kinky Friedman and his band the Texas Jewboys recorded Sold American, a humorous Jewish-slanted version of country music. Pot smoking hippies also found their way into the country tent, but it’s interesting to note that it would take another 20 years before another band would directly follow Lavender Country’s trailblazing path. Doug Stevens and the Outband made their own splash in the early ‘90s, with Stevens eventually forming the Lesbian and Gay Country Music Association. Since then, there have only been a few travelers along this rocky path, with Chely Wright and Steve Grand as the latest out country performers. For that reason, Lavender Country deserves our attention, and people should check out this significant reissue recording despite its technical weaknesses.

(This review first appeared on Spectrum Culture)

Recording review - Uncle Tupelo, No Depression (Legacy Edition, 2014)

Spawning a genre and mining musical truth

It’s a bittersweet pleasure to listen to Uncle Tupelo’s debut album No Depression with 24 years of hindsight. You can hear the band discovering themselves and developing their sound. It’s a snapshot from before the rancor set in. Their label, Rockville Records, hadn’t screwed them yet and the power struggle between Jay Farrar and Jeff Tweedy still lay ahead. Even though the acrimony and split would lead to Farrar’s Son Volt and Tweedy’s Wilco, each of which have made some great music, it’s painful to listen to the band bare themselves in these raw songs and think of what would follow. Their simple sincerity and naïveté made this big impact that the band itself could not outlast and their debut remains fresh and relevant. No Depression captures the beginning of a groundswell that had its roots in the cow punk sounds of X, the Blasters and the Beat Farmers. Tempered by firmer leanings toward folk rock and country, this album has been largely credited with spawning a new genre that never came up with a good enough name; alt-country, Americana or the eponymous “No Depression” have all sat in as labels, but none quite satisfy. Less than a name, it all comes down to the music and attitude.

This is not the first time the album has been reissued. In 2003, after the band had recovered their rights to their albums from Rockville, Uncle Tupelo re-released them with Columbia/Sony Legacy. The 2003 version tacked on some covers and alternate recordings along with liner notes from drummer Mike Heidorn. This Legacy Edition is geared for the completest fan. It includes two CDs loaded with 35 tracks. In addition to all of the songs on the last reissue, it includes the full set of songs from their 1989 demo, Not Forever, Just for Now, along with several songs from their 1987 cassette demo, Colorblind and Rhymeless. Although that seems like a lot, most of the demo material consists of earlier versions of the same set of songs. Although No Depression benefited from production work by Sean Slade and Paul Q. Kolderie, there wasn’t a lot of record label interference to reshape the tunes from the band’s demo. Not Forever, But for Now made such a strong impression, that most of the changes were in the mixing and engineering, with a few instrumentation tweaks. The downside is that these demos don’t generally shed a lot of light on the group’s development. Still, Slade and Kolderie did tone down some of the rootsy elements and give many of the songs a heavier drive.

In particular, they did a fine job of capturing Farrar’s weathered voice and fattening the songs with a stronger bass response. Comparing the opening track, “Graveyard Shift”, with its 1989 demo version, the two follow the same arrangement, but Farrar’s performance has more emotional depth on the album recording and Tweedy’s bass line jumps out. The title cut shows a bigger difference. The album take is a simple folk rendition, with Farrar slurring his way through the words like Shane MacGowan of the Pogues. By contrast, their demo digs down into a front-parlor bluegrass feel, with banjo and crowd harmonies.

But it’s “Whiskey Bottle” that shows the producers’ heaviest influence. The song opens with the sweet lowing of pedal steel guitar following the acoustic progression. It’s the strongest track on the album, belying the title completely. No depression? Hardly. This is a song about hitting bottom and dealing with the damage. Farrar wearily lays out his situation, “Persuaded, paraded, inebriated, in doubt.” But the chorus is defiant with cathartic distortion as he growls, “A long way from happiness/ In a three-hour-away town/ Whiskey bottle over Jesus/ Not forever, just for now.” The dynamic drop from overdriven chorus to singing steel guitar verses is perfect. The 1989 demo is also powerful, but doesn’t hit as hard. On the album, Slade and Kolderie chose to swap out Farrar’s harmonica for pedal steel, which was an interesting choice. The silky smoothness adds a patina of distance where the harp is more wistful and overtly maudlin. The tempo on the demo is also a bit more hesitant. On their own, Uncle Tupelo evokes some of Bruce Springsteen’s respect for a lowly, everyman character. The album take sharpens the emotional load by tightening the arrangement and coaxing a stronger performance. The live acoustic version, which was included on the 2003 release, leans towards the demo, so this isn’t a completely new revelation. But hearing the difference between the demo and album shows how, even though both are playing the hard chorus against the vulnerable verses, the album production nails that dynamic punch.

Aside from all the alternate versions filling out the second disc, there are a pair of tracks that haven’t been associated with No Depression before. The first is the raucous “I Got Drunk”, presented here in three flavors: the 1990 single, the 1989 demo take and the 1987 cassette version. The bigger surprise is the psychedelic instrumental, “Pickle River”, from Colorblind and Rhymeless. It’s an odd outlier from Uncle Tupelo’s canon. As a part of that earliest demo, it was probably intended to indicate a greater range of what the band could do.

Listen to the two CDs in order or playlist them together to hear the songs evolve over the three years of recording. Either way, No Depression still stands as an iconic album. But it’s not so important what came out of it – the alt-country genre, inspiration for other acts or spin-off bands – instead, it’s all about what Uncle Tupelo sought out and accomplished. They blended the grounded sound of country and folk with restless rock energy to find a musical truth. Not forever, just for now.

(This review first appeared in Spectrum Culture)

Recording review - Robbie Fulks, Gone Away Backward (2013)

American roots music, but never primitive

"If you've ever heard Hank Williams sing/ Well, you know the whole blessed thing." Robbie Fulks gets right to the heart of it on "That's Where I'm From", which could have easily served as the title of his new release because Gone Away Backward takes him back to his true love of American roots music. On this song, indeed on the whole album, Fulks aspires to Hank Williams' plain simplicity, but he can't hide his own polish. While Williams drew on a raw power, virtually inventing country music from its folk origins, Fulks has built on this foundation to become an eloquent voice for his musical ideal. Given the shoulders that he stands upon, the last lines of "That's where I'm From" call it right: "A long way down a hard road, that's where I've come/ Someplace I can't go home to, that's where I'm from."

From the beginning of his career, Fulks has idolized that early vision of country music. After failing to fit into the Nashville machine, he turned his back on modern country. But although his writing has shown a great sense of character and phrasing, his records as a whole have seldom connected directly to the traditional purity he touts. A couple of albums have each offered a piece of the puzzle. 13 Hillbilly Giants (2001) gets at that old sound with his interpretation of some lesser known country songs, while 2005's Georgia Hard focused on a late '60s/early /'70s version of the genre. Gone Away Backward bridges the gap to explore a mix of moody folk, raw country, and vibrant bluegrass, without a hint of alt-country irony or self-consciousness. As the song fall like dominoes, Fulks celebrates this old time feel, showing that clarity and sincerity don't have to be simplistic.

The opening track, "I'll Trade You Money For Wine", leads off with restless folk guitar and a fiddle that adds a patina of despair. Fulks' gentle drawl is simultaneously mournful and judgmental. The tune relies on a dark, relentless murder-ballad sound but the lyrical theme is complex and contradictory as he celebrates a surrender into dissolution from a seemingly morally superior perspective. So, "It's a short life and a long time underground/ I'll trade you money for wine" vies with philosophical dissections of industry and his lack of envy for the local banker. The ambiguity proves to be a potent gateway into the album. Despite this scattershot description, the song flows naturally, carrying you deeper into the mood.

After a John Prine style folk tune and a rollicking bluegrass number, the album finds its essence on the aforementioned "That's Where I'm From". Fulks matches the lyrical depth with a beautiful arrangement. His simple guitar part is gradually joined by the other other instruments -- bass, fiddle, mandolin, and banjo -- adding their voices like ghosts of the past standing behind him. As he raises his voice, forthright and unaffected, he captures a mix of poignancy and pride. The closing solos crown the piece perfectly, emotionally sincere without a trace of schmaltz.

The rich acoustic ambiance of Gone Away Backward is only compromised twice, with the subtle slide distortion on the rambling instrumental, "Snake Chapman's Tune", and the odd-bird track, "The Many Disguises of God". This latter song starts with an old British folk feel, with a waltz rhythm and fingerstyle guitar. Arty and sparse, the arrangement uses fiddle and the wicked sizzle of electric guitar fuzz to add an ominous haze that builds into a miasma of dread. Although at first listen it might clash with the folk-based approach on the rest of the album, the allegorical narrative does suggest an earlier time.

As much as I've enjoyed Fulks' earlier work, from the wry self-delusion of "You Wouldn't Do That To Me" (SouthMouth - 1997) to the dark cynicism of "God Isn't Real" (Let's Kill Saturday Night - 1998), this set of songs may well be the best that he's written. I wouldn't mind a little more of his sarcastic wit, but I appreciate the way Gone Again Backward commits to its theme and delivers so consistently.

Recording review: Merle Haggard and the Strangers, Swinging Doors reissue (1966/2013)

Haggard at his honky-tonk best in a classic reissue

"Cui bono?” When a record label dredges old albums out of the vault, it’s pretty obvious who benefits. Merle Haggard’s Swinging Doors (1966) is one of four new vinyl reissues from Capitol Records, and it doesn’t take a cynic to figure that it’s an easy investment on their part. The album marked his first time at the top of the Billboard country album charts and it featured a couple of strong singles. But even while I question the label’s motives, I can appreciate that the record showcases Haggard at his honky-tonk best. His later songs, like the anti-counterculture “Okie From Muskogee”, may have helped define his persona, but these simple, heartfelt offerings stand on the bedrock of classic country music.

The mastering on this release is crystal clear, but I still hear these tunes with the record hiss of my grandmother’s old Magnavox stereo. Her country albums were old and out of step with the rock music I loved, but a few artists like Haggard and Johnny Cash sounded nothing like hick caricatures. Instead, they were men who had lived and dealt with real problems. Listening to “If I Could Be Him” today, I relish in Haggard’s stoic tone at being the short side in a lovers’ triangle. His acceptance is tinged with pain, but sidesteps self-pity:

I know that you could never trade his love for mine
And I know my dreams can never be
Cause no way can wrong be right
But I’d give the world tonight
If I could just be him instead of me 

The brief guitar solo matches his phrasing, almost sighing in the pauses.

He visits this theme again later on the album with “No More You And Me”, summing up his situation with a painful economy: “There’s you and him/ Me and loneliness/ But no more you and me.” This track comes closest to Nashville polish but still avoids the saccharine strings favored by those studios. In fact, Haggard helped mainstream the classic Bakersfield sound, which rejected syrupy Nashville production for a rawer, guitar-centric approach. Swinging Doors is filled with great examples of this sub-genre, from the riff-driven Telecaster on “The Longer You Wait” to the smooth lead trade-offs between the guitar and the steel on the title track. Following in Buck Owens’ footsteps, “I Can’t Stand Me” even toys with rock ‘n’ roll, letting the twangy vocals and double-stop fills provide the country credibility. Swinging Doors also tosses in a novelty tune, “The Girl Turned Ripe”, which features a rollicking tempo and gleeful vocals. Although it probably worked in its time, it hasn’t aged well. The pre-feminist chauvinism is dated and ‘ripe’ has a different connotation these days.

Leading off the second side, “The Bottle Let Me Down”, is probably the most well-known song on the album. “Couldn’t drink enough to keep you off my mind”; these songs are a staple in country music, but this one is a perfect storm. It has a good narrative arc, clever lines and Ralph Mooney’s singing steel guitar. Haggard’s wife, Bonnie Owens, sweetens his rueful tale with understated harmonies that round out the tune.

This range of material, from tales of quiet suffering to the gospel country of “High On A Hilltop”, shows off the versatility of the backing band. That shouldn’t be surprising; the Strangers’ line up serves as a Who’s Who of the great studio and touring players of the day: James Burton, Roy Nichols, Glen Campbell, and Glen Hardin to name a few. If Campbell is the only one you recognize, you’ve heard the others playing with Elvis Presley, Ricky Nelson, Gram Parsons, John Denver and more.

Capitol may be looking for some easy money on an old album that’s already paid for itself, but it’s a treat to revisit Haggard’s early days. Forget the pop-flavored twang of today’s country music and go back to the source.

(This review first appeared on Spectrum Culture)

Recording review - The Gromet, Barren (2012)

Colorado country rockers make retro tones their own

It's been two years since I last heard the Gromet when they opened for Tumbledown. The Golden, Colorado band has spent that time honing their sound as they play the Front Range and touring around the West. Last month, I caught their CD release show here in Ft. Collins and picked up a copy of their new album, Barren. I enjoyed their set, but I finally found the time to settle in and give the album a listen. While the band still plays a country rock/Americana mix, they've traded out Wilco influences for the folk rock feel of the Eagles and The Band.

The album name serves as fair warning that the Gromet has also matured their sound from their more direct, feel-good roots. While Barren is hardly moping, bringing some darker themes allows for a wider range of emotional nuances. The title track has a simple, folky sparseness with a clear acoustic guitar and sincere vocal. With a wistful sense of loss, "Barren" is reminiscent of "Where Do They Go" by the Beat Farmers.

Barren love shows its age
I'm wonderin' what you feel now
Barren love shows its age
The more you give, the more it takes

The only ornamentation is a poignant bit of melody worked in with the guitar chords. The track gains even more weight from the contrast with the previous track, "Whiskey and Pills", a soulful country rocker that would feel at home in the Marshall Tucker back catalog. The slightly hoarse lead vocals stand up well to the warmly distorted guitar tone. The lazy melody is familiar, wrapped in an aura of early '70s rock. The solo kicks in, accompanied by retro falsetto harmonies that shift the vibe from "Can't You See" to a twangy Rolling Stones sound. The repetition of the title line sets up a perfect sing-along tag to take the tune home. This has the hallmarks of a great live song and the band captures that energy here.

The Gromet proves adept at mining the Western rock space to tip their hats to a host of influences, from the rootsy John Hiatt Americana of "Skip Your Stone" to the folky tone of The Band on "Stalemate" and the Eagles flavored harmony vocals on "Empty Space". Despite the inspiring list of sonic references, the band manage to stake their own claim with catchy lyrics, boot tapping rhythms, and a clear, honest band persona.

Recording review - Andrew Bird, Hands of Glory (2012)

Revisiting and reworking in a traditional vein

Andrew Bird is one of those intense musicians who merges classically trained technical chops, confident cross-genre improvisation and an intuitive feel for processing sounds through loopers and other toys. Whether whistling, singing, or playing violin or guitar, Bird effortlessly creates music of tasteful complexity. He’s also quite prolific. Like Prince or Robert Pollard, he seems to constantly record himself, releasing a range of studio and live albums, companion albums, and numerous singles. So far, his high level of quality hasn’t diluted his impact.

Earlier this year, he released Break It Yourself, performing a series of indie pop jams with his band. This album had a more relaxed feel than some of his solo material. His latest offering, Hands of Glory, is a follow-up/companion EP that roots itself in a simpler country folk sound. With a clearer vision, it’s much more consistent than Break It Yourself. While a couple of tunes were recorded in between tour dates, the bulk of the album came from looser acoustic jams, captured with a single microphone. This deliberate move back to folkier roots feels like he’s seeking comfort and a firmer foundation compared to some of his more experimental arrangements and equipment. The focus on cover songs and reworked versions adds to the feel of looking back more than forward.

Bird eases us into the album with the two studio pieces. Three White Horses begins with a meditative sparseness: a measured bass line, then the barest touch of cymbal and guitar. When Bird’s voice joins in to sing the first line, the warm reverb production lays a beautifully retro patina across the guitar line and vocals. This spare start sets a film noir mood. Then the second line blossoms as the backing harmonies splash color into the monochrome palette of the song. At its heart, it’s a simple indie folk song, but the heat shimmer of notes welling up add an ethereal touch. That smooth, haunting tone could be a slide guitar or the singing of a processed violin; either way, the spiritual touch matches the memento mori lyrical theme. “You will need somebody when you come to die.” The track builds into gospel intensity as the accompaniment grows wilder, but Bird’s voice and the acoustic guitar stay clean even as the thick haze of layered instrumentation crowds the other channel. The tune returns to simplicity to finish as a benediction.

The other studio track is a cover of When That Helicopter Comes. Where the Handsome Family’s original had a more traditional bluegrass/country rock sound, Bird speeds it up and polishes the edges down. Like Three White Horses, the slapback echo production on the vocals and guitar has an old school sound. He’s manipulated the chords on the refrain to briefly hint at a jazzy Western swing and his violin fills here have a wistful sophistication. But darkness is never too far and the apocalyptic lyrics inexorably spell out a modern vision of Revelations. The track ends with an echo feedback tone that suggests that the helicopter might be closer than we think.

After these two studio pieces, Hands of Glory transitions to a rawer, old time folk style. Long ago, radio and stage shows often featured bands sharing a single mic and many bluegrass groups today maintain the tradition. Each song becomes a dance as players step forward and back to adjust their place in the mix. Bird has used this technique during performances to create an intimate roots feel and it’s a natural fit for these songs. Another key element in the band’s approach is based on a history of less directed playing. They’ve have been having summer jam sessions for the last three years. They spend several days just relaxing and seeing where the songs take them. The first track of this section is a radical reworking of Alpa Consumer’s Spirograph. The indie pop original has none of the grace captured here. Bird’s version is clear and beautiful in its sadness. The verses remind me of Paul Simon or maybe Joni Mitchell’s A Case of You. The guitar work is fine in its subtlety: echoes, scratches and swells color in the emotional nuances of the song.

The next few songs are well executed, starting with a self-satisfied version of the old song, Railroad Bill. This is followed by the stately, stripped down Something Biblical and a cover of Townes Van Zandt’s If I Needed You. While these are nice tunes, the next peak is Bird’s reinvention of his song Orpheo Looks Back from Break It Yourself. Orpheo jettisons the syncopated gypsy feel of the original, slowing it down to create a more reflective mood. The pacing and folky integrity give the lyrics more depth and color them with regret and experience.

Hands of Glory stays true to the idea of revisiting and reworking as it wraps up with the nine minute Beyond the Valley of the Three White Horses, an instrumental version of the opening track. Fully acoustic, it deconstructs Three White Horses into constituent parts. The violin begins against the background sound of crickets; then the staccato chord progression comes in. Bird’s violin has a nostalgic feel. The wordless vocals are full of longing and the harmonies sweeten the sound as they echo the slide line from Three White Horses. A little over a third of the way through, the song transforms as the choppy chords fade to make room for chamber sound, lush with bowed strings and a delicate whistle. This evolves into a Phillip Glass minimalism before it closes on a reprise of the vocal section.

Bird comes back to these pieces, not to repair them or to correct a mistake, but to find another jumping off point and see where it leads. This constant seeking is one of his core tenets. In this case, as he digs through his own musical roots, he shows how common ground can yield beautiful results.

(This review originally appeared on Spectrum Culture)

Recording review - Johnny Hickman, Tilting (2012)

Folky roots rock with country twang and new wave punch

Tilting is Johnny Hickman's second solo album. Plenty of people know the Cracker co-founder's rock side, but Hickman also has strong country-folk influences that he's shown with the Hickman-Dalton Gang. Tilting plays like Hickman's eclectic history. It's a melting pot of folky roots rock with moments of country twang and new wave punch, plus a few other surprises.

Cracker fans might prefer the rocking numbers, like the snide Elvis Costello post punk of Sick Cynthia Thing or the indie rock sneer of Takin' Me Back. This latter track could turn up on a Cracker album, but it really nails a Beat Farmers country rock groove. The lyrics are clever and clueless as Hickman sings from the perspective of someone who doesn't realize "she's just not that into you":

She needs a break for our relationship's sake
Takin' me back, takin' me back, she will be
So, I give her space, but I call her in case
She's takin' me back, takin' me back, she will be

Someone says she's missing me
Lost in her regret
Feels more like she misses me
Every chance she gets

Sharp and punchy, it's a strong contrast to Tilting's rootsier tracks that lean towards folk rock. Those songs lay down a simple sound to support Hickman's lyrical message, from calling out the greedy and venal on Measure of a Man to the his philosophical musings on Destiny Misspent. Hickman is comfortable with this stripped down approach and he gives the songs room to breathe.

One track, though, is a complete outlier. The jazzy blues of Papa Johnny's Arms has some great guitar work and it could easily fit on a Leon Redbone disc. It's a fun song, with a polished sound and smooth flow. The guitar solo is particularly nice - not quite Django, but with a taste of gypsy jazz. But as much as I like the laid back vamp, it breaks up the album's flow.

Even so, Johnny Hickman is confident in his choices and Tilting is anything but a single niche album.

(As a contrast from the link above, here's another track, Another Road.)

Recording review - Kelli Scarr, Dangling Teeth (2012)

Kelli Scarr is still hauntingly beautiful as she creates her own version of country

Sophomore albums are the bane of the recording industry. Band or performers spend years developing their sound and then use up their best material on their debut album. Then they're rushed into the studio to follow up. If their second effort doesn't click, the industry spits them out. There are plenty of performers who overcome, often with the help of the industry, but they're the lucky ones. The indie scene is a little kinder because there's less money at stake, but sophomore albums are often a muddle that doesn't deliver on the freshman hype.

Kelli Scarr defies that by taking the haunting indie folk sound she showcased in Piece (review) and migrating west. On its surface, Dangling Teeth is largely a country album with folk and rock moments. But Scarr's sparse, hand-joined arrangements, her retro-soaked, echoed voice, and her instinctive feel for late night solitude permeate the album. The pedal steel textures and heavier rhythms expand her style and her underlying strengths bloom into fuller expression.

In the stronger country moments, Scarr's voice evokes Emmy Lou Harris while the rest of the album reminds me of the Cowboy Junkies. But Kelli Scarr is no Margo Timmins wannabe. Instead, it's her sense of pacing that draws the comparison -- subtle timing that can suggest weariness, surrender, or languor depending on the context.

Take the moody sound of It Ain't Me. Tremolo guitar chords, echoed vocals, and a bluesy, single coil guitar line shimmer together in a lazy groove. Before Scarr starts singing, the feeling is introspective, but the lyrics quickly shift the song into a sense of checked anger and frustration. The chorus takes that inward energy and turns it towards its deserving target. Scarr's voice picks up some of Tori Amos' mocking tone in the second verse. The key, though, is the bridge that takes over the last third of the song. It channels an undercurrent of dark rage. Noisy, chaotic energy builds into a thunderhead, raising the question of whether the darkness will conquer.

The last track, I'll Always Wait, counters that mood. The atmospheric intro fades in and falls into a dreamy groove with a hesitant beat. Scarr's expressive voice lazily toys with the rhythm:

Lost days away
I wait and wait
Forgetting not
I found a place

She gives the song room to build. The chorus blooms into a new set of changes:

Please don't ever change
Oh, I am here and I will stay the same
Please don't ever change
Cause I will always wait...
Oh, I will wait for you

I love the way her soulful voice soars on that first "wait" with a hint of Great Gig In The Sky. The sweet, tasteful solo sets up the song's evolution, laying the groundwork for a shift from Pink Floyd's Breathe to Neil Young's Down By The River. The repetition of the chorus lyrics is becomes a desperate prayer.

Neither of those songs fall into the country feel that Scarr explores in the rest of the album. The first several tracks cover this well, from the country rock twang of You Could Be So Great to the traditional country shuffle of Our Joy. I especially enjoy the steel guitar drenched folk of Dangling Teeth, where the simple parts come together to create a sparse completeness. This reminds me of some of My Morning Jacket's slower material, especially how the rhythm guitar and steel offset each other.

Dangling Teeth is a worthy second album. As much as I enjoyed Piece, Kelli Scarr's musical development shows through. With genuine country sounds, she still keeps her essential style.

Recording review - Scott Lucas & the Married Men, Blood Half Moon (2012)

Thoughtful arrangements as the music ranges from alt-country to heavy rock jams

Scott Lucas was half of the alternative rock duo Local H, whose Bound For the Floor was a staple in 1996. Despite their bare bones drum and guitar line up, Local H's hard punching songs captured a perfect sense of undirected anger and frustration.

On Blood Half Moon, Lucas seems determined to push that history aside and make grown up music. Like Roger Clyne after the Refreshments, Lucas expands beyond his simple rock chops to bring in alt-country and Americana elements. He still has a straight-ahead rock sensibility and fuzzed out edges, but his backing band, the Married Men add a lot of sonic detail that Local H never mustered. In particular, the pervasive violin flavors the whole album.

Blood Half Moon opens with an epic piece, Lover, The Lullaby. The moody intro evokes Enrico Morricone's Western work with a drone organ and a reverbed guitar melody accompanied by a mournful whistle and touch of violin. After the first verse, the music kicks in with a vengeance. Crunched rhythm, pounding drums, and fluid violin drive the song forward with a Western/Americana feel, like The Ballad of Serenity from Firefly.

The bridge shatters that mood by punching into an acid rock jam complete with psychedelic guitar shred. Even here, the violin hangs in, adding a banshee wail. The music finally drops back to recap the main theme before calling it quits.

This resolution sets up the beautiful, sparse intro to Blood Half Moons. Its pensive expectancy showcases Lucas' surprisingly lush voice. The U2 influence is strong, from the echoed vocal to the subtle tonal textures.

Musical shifts like this, along with much more thoughtful arrangements make Blood Half Moon a huge departure from Local H. Later songs range further afield. Old Worries wanders into Beat Farmers' alt-country territory while Out of the Boat starts with a reworking of the theme from You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin' (Righteous Brothers) but shows influences from the Indigo Girls and Roger Clyne.

While Scott Lucas uses his work with the Married Men to express some richer musical ideas, Local H is still active. They have a new album coming out soon, which I'm sure will hit their old sweet spot of cathartic and clever alt rock. My advice is to balance perspectives and get both albums.

Drop by the band's website to stream Blood Half Moons.

Recording review - Alone at 3AM, Midwest Mess (2012)

Refreshingly direct Americana rock

Like broken in boots or comfortably worn jeans, Alone at 3AM fits my speakers like they've always lived there. After a host of bands trying to be different, just like everyone else, it's a comfort to relax into the familiar sounds of Midwest Mess. Call it country rock or Americana, Alone at 3AM's music carries the echoes of John Hiatt, John Mellencamp, and Bob Seger.

While the playing is tight and songwriting is solid, Max Fender's raw sandpaper vocals are the centerpiece. Rough but vulnerable, Fender's matter-of-fact delivery gives the songs room to breathe. On Weekends at the Cape, he takes a John Hiatt turn over a simple open verse. As the fill guitar adds its decoration to lead in to the chorus, the song picks up. In the vein of Eric Clapton's Wonderful Tonight, the lyrics are just trying to capture a moment of feeling:

You're just helpin' the stars to shine
You're just givin' that moon a show, so it can rise
Oh, tonight...

This transitions to the darker, steady pace of Grown an Ocean. With a more assertive rock sound, the music is more complex to support the ambivalent mood:

Down, down is where I am
Holdin' you just ain't enough
It's good enough for friends

Sarah Davis' backing vocals are a nice touch, but should have been a more forward in the mix.

The Americana rocker Burn This Town seems to reach towards Bruce Springsteen. Stronger keys or a horn might have tipped the balance. But even missing that mark, the solid arrangement and rhythm changes give drummer Chaz Stitler room to open up.

Between the easy flowing country-tinged rock style and simple production, Midwest Mess has a timeless sound. Despite feeling so familiar, it's never trite or lazy. Alone at 3AM have avoided irony, self indulgence, and heavily layered meaning to create an album grounded in a refreshingly direct honesty.

Concert review - Todd Snider with Reed Föehl

25 April 2012 (Hodi's Half Note, Ft. Collins CO)

I was pleased that Todd Snider played here in Ft. Collins, especially in an intimate venue like Hodi's. It's a big difference from the Boulder Theater (his next stop on the tour). Snider and Reed Föehl pulled in a mixed age crowd that filled up the venue.

Reed Föehl

Folk singer Reed Föehl is a Boston native, transplanted here to Colorado. He played a comfortable, singer/songwriter set that didn't push boundaries but still satisfied the quiet, attentive crowd. With his simple finger-picked guitar and the wistful twang of his singing, his first song evoked John Prine at his more serious. His subtle harmonica playing added a tentative vulnerability to the tune.

Introducing the next song, he said, "I'm sure a lot of these may be new to you. But this one is new to me. It's called 'Color Me In'." It was another simple waltz beat folk song, sounding like early solo Ryan Adams. These were good tunes, but they set the flow for the whole set: serious, sincere folk music with a coffee shop vibe.


Föehl's stage presence fit well with this. He was very gentle and earnest, with a mild self-deprecating patter. Even offstage, his mellow, friendly vibe made him very approachable. Still, I found myself wanting him to be more dynamic, both physically and musically. The folk genre is a fairly big pool, with room for humor, edge, and energy but Föehl's set maintained an even, steady pace.

His next to last song finally shook things up. Once an Ocean was moodier with a darker depth. Föehl channeled Neil Young and Buffalo Springfield and built a much appreciated intensity.

Todd Snider

In person, Todd Snider always teeters on a ledge in a way that even his live recordings can't quite convey. He's joked about this unpredictability in his song, Age Like Wine:

My new stuff is nothing like my old stuff was
And neither one is much when compared to the show
Which will not be as good as some other one you saw
So help me, I know, I know
I know I am an old timer...

Snider is touring behind his latest album, Agnostic Hymns & Stoner Fables (review), but the set list bounced through his full catalog. He opened with an older tune, Alright Guy, then jumped right into New York Banker from the new album.

Snider was something like a Zen master as he zipped through his set list but never seemed rushed. He and the band flowed from song to song, but as soon as the pace seemed noticeable, Snider broke it up with some of his seat-of-the-pants patter. While a given story may follow the same basic flow from show to show, the details shift and blur.

The best moment came near the end of Beer Run, when he interrupted the song to share his philosophy about playing goofy songs like this:

...there's something I want to get off my chest because it bothers me. My friends back home in East Nashville, they just naturally assume...without even asking me, they just naturally assume that I am sick of this song that I'm playing right now. They say, "Oh God damn, you must be sick of that fucking one." Shit, no, I'm not!! It's my favorite one...

...I can't get enough of it. And I'll tell you something else. I'll tell you that there ain't never gonna be a day in my life when I make up a song that somebody else likes or wants to sing to. I don't care who they are. If they like it and they want to sing to it, I want to sing it for them. I'm grateful for it. And I'll tell you why...

That segued directly into Age Like Wine before wrapping up with a final chorus of Beer Run.

His backing band matched Snider's style perfectly. They laid low, easy to underestimate until you realized how tight they were. The uptempo numbers gave them a little more room to work with, allowing for some fancier fills, but they were great sidemen. Their foundation gave Snider more dynamic space.

The mix of new and old tunes satisfied the crowd. Snider's consistency as a writer provided the common ground that had everyone singing along on every song. Along with his own songs, Snider threw in a run of covers: Neil Youngs Hey hey, My My, Rusty Weir's Don't it Make You Wanna Dance, Jerry Jeff Walker's Pissing in the Wind, and Jerry Lee Lewis' Great Balls of Fire. Each of these felt like the show's closer as the big endings dragged on, but every time, the band would suddenly kick into the next one. By the time Snider and the band finally left the stage, the audience was wrung out. If this was a ploy to avoid an encore, it didn't work, though. Snider came back out and took a request (Play a Train Song) and followed that up with his last song of the night, Big Finish.


This turned into a sideshow moment. While Snider encouraged a girl at the front of the stage who was soul singing along, the rest of us were distracted by a harmonica player walking through the crowd towards the stage. Acting like he was part of the act, the harp player jumped up and took over the mic. A bemused Snider handed him another harmonica in the right key. When the soul singer decided to come up, too, Snider just stepped back and gave them room. It was anarchy, but what else is going to happen when you try to make a Saturday night out of a weekend.


More photos on my Flickr.

CD review - Roger Clyne & the Peacemakers, Unida Cantina (2011)

Familiar sounds with more lyrical maturity

Roger Clyne hit the scene fronting one of my favorite groups of "snotty boys with guitars", the Refreshments. With a sneering, know-it-all voice and tight, clever lyrics, Clyne and the Refreshments laid down songs like Banditos and Down Together that showcased characters who were victims of fate and their own bad choices.

As a solo artist, Clyne keeps those characters alive by playing the old songs, but his newer material shows more maturity. With less sneer and plenty of heart, he writes more about grown up problems and less about youthful irresponsibility. This reflects the sincerity and gratitude of his stage persona.

Unida Cantina reflects this with songs like Dinero, which keys on personal integrity and debt, or Marie, that offers an unflinching look at the cost of sin. But Clyne hasn't gotten soft -- the emotional regret in Marie has no self-pity, just a sad acknowledgment. My favorite track, Empty Highway, centers on a fringe character, but without the false bravado of Clyne's older songs. The story here is hinted at: a life has slid out of control and the singer is trying to figure out a next move. Meanwhile, the music sounds like a bluesy take on George Harrison's I Me Mine.

Alcohol, THC.
We're packing heavy
Be all you can be
Brown bag of $20s,
.45 ACP
A head full of Jupiter
And as we drive into the sun
And all the good we thought we did has come undone
In the end I find I'm back where I'd begun
I'm on an empty highway with a loaded gun

In a single song, Clyne sums up the story arc of Breaking Bad.

The mix of Americana, alt country, and rock on Unida Cantina will sound familiar to Clyne's fans. As always, the Peacemakers are the perfect backing band. The arrangements emphasize fills and backing elements more than pyrotechnic leads and the Peacemakers smoothly execute the songs with a sweet economy. From anthemic sing-alongs to stripped down reflections, the album's flow showcases Clyne's writing and expression.

If there's a fault with Unida Cantina, it's a lack of novelty. Unlike some artists, Roger Clyne is settling into himself rather than trying constant reinventions. The upside is that each new Peacemakers album will deliver more of what the fans love.

CD review - Todd Snider, Agnostic Hymns & Stoner Fables (2012)

The raconteur is back with more stories from the fringe

If there's a brief summary for the characters in Todd Snider's songs, New York Banker comes close: "Good things happen to bad people" and, of course, its corollary about good people. In this case, Snider uses his song to explain the whole banking crisis and add a human element. The sloppy, bar band alt-country rock music frames the song as if Snider is the slightly drunk high school teacher bitching about his fate. If the Occupy movement could settle on an anthem, it ought to be this.

Agnostic Hymns & Stoner Fables carries on Snider's tradition of using fringe characters and their stories to throw some perspective on our own lives. Sometimes the themes are big, like New York Banker or the cynical assessment of religion, In the Beginning. Other times, he closes in on smaller, personal stories. Either way, despite his casual speak-singing delivery, he lavishes attention on each track. Even on the most tossed off songs, like The Very Last Time, which promises that this last time is not like all the other last times, he still creates a moment of poignant perfection:

I had a dream where you came to see me
You asked if I was okay
That's how I knew that I was dreaming:
You asked if I was okay

The matter of fact tone and lack of self-pity combines with pig headed optimism to give the simple idea some depth.

Agnostic Hymns reaches back to the ramshackle feel of The Devil You Know. The unreliable narrator/scam artist of In Between Jobs is a younger brother of the confident construction worker in Lookin' For a Job. Snider's voice drifts across the dirty blues licks, spinning his web. His cocky attitude encourages distrust but also a grudging respect:

There's only one way to win this shell game
Be the one that gets the other guy to play
You think I'm not very bright and you might be right
I might have been born yesterday
But I was up all night...

The least direct song on the album, Brenda, paints Keith Richards and Mick Jagger as flawed lovers that offered each other redemption. While that probably shouldn't be read literally, Snider gets awfully close to a deeper truth. Whether or not the Rolling Stones' chemistry "was true love", Snider shares the true love in his heart.

Agnostic Hymns & Stoner Fables is another fine Todd Snider album. He doesn't really break new ground, but, like a great raconteur, Snider shows us what he does best without repeating himself.

CD review - Various Artists, Reggae's Gone Country (2011)

Reggae covers classic country but plays it safe

Crazy cross-genre mashups used to be surprising, but now they're common. From Shockabilly covering Thelonious Monk on That's the Way I Feel Now to Pickin' on Led Zeppelin's bluegrass version of classic rock, almost everything's been done before. We're becoming so jaded that it's getting harder to even make an impression.

On the surface, Reggae's Gone Country looks like another novelty attempt to shock the public. Modern Jamaican singers covering classic country hits? Why not, we've had reggae-fied Radiohead. Despite seeming like a gimmick, this album is rooted in an enthusiastic vision. Cristy Barber, Vice President of Marketing and Promotions at VP Records, championed this idea to bridge two of her favorite musical worlds: the country music she grew up with and the reggae vibe she's immersed in with her record label.

The label makes their pitch that it's not as strange a match as it sounds. Both genres are rooted in regular people making a voice for their experience and the songs can range from relationships and loss to spiritual devotion. Additionally, country music is fairly popular in Jamaica, so the songs were already familiar to many of the artists. Barber, along with John Rich (Big & Rich), laid out a strategy: select the set of classic country songs, pair them up with modern reggae singers, lay down a solid backing track with a "dream team reggae band", and then add a veneer of country sound to sweeten the tracks.

For the most part the songs qualify as country classics, although I would have traded out the Statler Brothers' Flowers on the Wall for Hank Williams Sr. or Johnny Cash. Still, it's a solid starting point. I wasn't familiar with the reggae singers that Barber selected, but it seemed like a nice range of vocal styles.

Some of the songs, like George Strait's The Chair or Crazy naturally slipped into a reggae beat. Maybe it's because the cut time country beat is not so far from a chank. While that is part of the vision behind the album, those songs didn't stand out as strong new interpretations.

By contrast, Duane Stephenson's work on Eddie Rabbit's Suspicians emphasized the R&B feel of the song. The lazy groove has a loose jamming feel and Stephenson's phrasing is soulful. He occasionally uses falsetto to push the tune. Luciano's take on Jim Reeve's He'll Have to Go is another of the more interesting songs. Luciano's rich warm voice is smoother and cheerier than Reeve's deep baritone, but the looser delivery suits the song. The reggae arrangement stands out more strongly on this track, too.

It's clear, though, that Barber and the singers she's selected are too respectful of these classics to push any boundaries. This means that the songs are solid, but fairly predictable. Another weakness was the decision to paste in the pedal steel, fiddle, and banjo parts. Adding the country embellishments softened any impact of the reggae reimagining of the songs. For example, the steel and fiddle on He Stopped Loving Her Today pulled the song firmly back into country despite the chank beat. It's still a good song, just less interesting than it could have been.

Country fans will find plenty of touchstone moments to enjoy. Reggae fans might be disappointed that the reggae vibe wasn't given a freer hand.

Concert review - Tumbledown with Tin Horn Prayer, The Gromet, and Banners or Bandages

2 November 2010 (Larimer Lounge, Denver CO)

It was a normal Tuesday night in Denver. As expected, the crowd was fairly sparse when the show began, but picked up as the night progressed. Neither the crowd nor the bands were deterred by the limited attendance. The stage energy was fairly high and the audience was determined to make a party of it.

Banners or Bandages

Banners or Bandages followed the recent trend of solo acts performing under a band name. Singer/songwriter Sean K. seamlessly transitioned from a simple soundcheck into his set. With a low key stage presence, it took a moment to realize that he had started. Many of the songs in his short set were simple, retro folk rock with a Violent Femmes directness.

His vocals were emotional, adding an indie rock feel at times. Even though his pitch control was a little weak, his songs seemed heartfelt. He also had a decent sense of dynamics, making some interesting shifts of tempo and mood within some of the songs. This showed the strongest when he shifted between percussive strumming and softer melodic riffs.

The Gromet

I met Johnny, the drummer for the Gromet, before their set and he filled me in on their sound. He described their music as upbeat country rock and perfect roadtrip music. He also mentioned that their keyboard player is a relatively recent addition to the band. Their opening song made a believer out of me. I'm looking forward to catching them again and I'll be giving their CD a listen in the coming days.

That first song in their set was a full sounding, Wilco slice of Americana. They were focused and having fun, which added to their strong stage presence. As the set progressed, they showed off a good range of material. There were some mild country elements, but the Americana label fits better. They bounced around from George Harrison/Beatles influenced songs to a Traffic style groove to some screaming blues rock. Despite their retro foundations, they had a modern indie rock vibe, too. This was largely because of the jangled guitar riffs and vocal arrangements.

True to Johnny's word, the music was upbeat. The high point was a feel good '70s rock jam that evoked the end of Hey Jude. The chords even matched well enough. The keyboards added a rich dimension to the Gromet's sound. There were some very tight lines featuring the keyboards, guitar, and bass hitting a nice descending riff.

The blues rock closing section of the set started with a cover of Baby, Please Don't Go. It was tightly wound and edgy. The guitar powered through a psychedelic solo while the drums pounded like hammering in coffin nails. After that, the Gromet continued the blues jam, with guitarist Shea B jamming out on an electric lap steel. The final bit of chaotic dissociation served as a good lead in for Tin Horn Prayer.

Drop by the Gromet's Facebook page and give Roll Away a listen to hear them lay down a George Harrison vibe. Only To Drive shows off their Wilco influences.

Tin Horn Prayer

With a "take no prisoners" stance, Tin Horn Prayer occupied the stage like an invading army. They had a strong punk aesthetic, but it was tempered with some country and bluegrass elements. Surprisingly, the net effect was not particularly like the Beat Farmers, mainstays of the cow punk style. That's largely because Tin Horn Prayer favored a loud, layered, and busy sound. With up to three guitars playing at a time with mandolin or banjo accompaniment, there was a lot to focus on. Add the primal scream vocals (especially from banjo/mando player, Mike Herrera) and the effect was felt physically as much as it was heard.

In addition to the wall of sound, the band filled the stage with movement. The bass player stalked behind the front line, like a caged tiger pacing back and forth. The front four dropped back or loomed forward as the mood struck. The busy movement created a good energy that complemented the hard edge of the music.

At this volume, it could be hard to hear the lyrics clearly, but the dark humor of Crime Scene Cleanup Team was easy to follow. The music was a lot like the rocking country of Johnny Cash's Folsom Prison Blues, but Tin Horn Prayer muddied the simplicity of the changes with a full spectrum of chaos. My favorite line of the night came in Scooter James' simple country rocker, which opened with something like, "My heart's too damn weary to raise this middle finger."

The songs weren't all noisefests, though. They also hit some grinding down tempo rockers (which benefited from the banjo and accordion textures) and some moody, hypnotic grooves. On their most bluegrass influenced tunes, they reminded me of Shane MacGowan and the Pogues.

Tumbledown

Tumbledown delivered exactly the performance I expected from the latest CD, Empty Bottle (review here). They ran through many of the songs off the CD, kicking up the tempo a bit but maintaining the tight coordination. Tumbledown was nowhere near as chaotic as Tin Horn Prayer, but their presence and energy were just as strong. The band didn't restrict the setlist to the CD, though. They kicked off with Butcher of San Antone (Mike Herrera's sneering vocals were spot on) and followed it with a roller coaster cover of the Beatles' I've Just Seen a Face.

Empty Bottle showcased a bit of the Beat Farmer's cowpunk energy and a similar kind of "snotty boys with guitars" sound as the Refreshments and this show hit a lot of similar notes. Like Roger Clyne, frontman Mike Herrera had a lot of charisma as he connected with the audience. He had a direct sincerity that shined through without being sappy. So, he could channel his enthusiasm over the music to hype up a Tuesday night crowd and get playful, bantering with the crowd about the relative quality of the drinks they gave him.

Off stage, he was just as approachable. I talked with him briefly before the show. When I asked about the differences in touring with Tumbledown versus MxPx, he was self-deprecating as he complained about the logistics of being the Tumbledown tour manager.

On stage, Herrera stayed in motion, creating an alt rock energy. With Herrera's strong stage presence, it would be easy to dismiss the rest of the band as just being along for the ride. But even though they weren't as talkative, they each contributed some flash to the show, with Marshall Trotland muscling his standup bass into the air and guitarist Jack Parker lunging forward to the edge of stage on his solos. Drummer Harley Trotland maintained a grueling pace throughout the set, still finding the time and energy to nail some nice fills.

The climax of the show was a cover of the Who's My Generation. Herrera took the mike into the front of the crowd and got us all dancing and singing along. The sense of joyous abandon, surrender to the beat, and unselfconscious fun was a fitting high point for the set and the show. The rest of the set was no let down, though, just an extension. A double Stoli on the rocks to Tumbledown, who gave us that gift.

More photos on my Flickr.

CD review - Tumbledown, Empty Bottle (2010)

The sound on Empty Bottle is familiar. Tumbledown adds a country twist to that special genre in my pantheon of music: "snotty boys with guitars". I ought to judge them solely on their own merits, but it's hard to separate their sound from one of my favorite old bands, the Refreshments.

I fell in love with the Refreshments the first time I heard Banditos. They had tight harmonies, a driving beat, and a saturated guitar sound. Frontman Roger Clyne sneered out songs of sheepish losers who fell to forces they just couldn't understand. After the Refreshments broke up, Clyne moved on to a great solo career, maturing as an artist. While I love his new work, I miss the immaturity and attitude the Refreshments summoned.

With Empty Bottle, the first couple of songs set Tumbledown's credentials as a country rock band. But then, the third track, Meet the Devil, triggers the comparison to the Refreshments. It's a simple guitar rocker, choppy and full sounding with a layer of lead guitar to smooth it over. Mike Herrera has that same know-it-all tone that Roger Clyne sings, but a little lower and raspier. When he sings, "I never start from the beginning, I go straight to the end. Always looking for an angle, for a back door in", I hear the same sentiments that the Refreshments could always tap.

This continues with the story song, Arrested in El Paso, which has a nice hard rock start that settles into a rollicking western-tinged rock.

They got my worldly possessions strewn about the floor
And I don't think we're gonna make the show no more
So, don't you mess with Texas, from experience I know
And steer far clear of the US Border Patrol

A classic rock guitar solo is the icing on this cake. Songs like these satisfy my cravings for that Refreshements sound.

Tumbledown throws in enough country rock elements to step beyond the Refreshments comparisons. They have a clear love of traditional country that comes out in songs like She's in Texas (and I'm Insane) ("...I run to her like water down a drain") and Drink to Forget or in the steel tones of guest Todd Beene on Bad News. They may not be perfectly biographical, but their songs paint a picture of blue collar guys just doing their best. That's a big part of what classic country has always been and Tumbledown captures that.

At the same time, Tumbledown clearly gets their "snotty boys" sound from Mike Herrera's other band, MxPx, which is squarely in that New Found Glory brand of thrashy rock. The mix of rock and country may sometimes pull Empty Bottle more into the direction of the Beat Farmers than the Refreshments, but it's a good solid rocker. Line up a shot and a beer and give them a listen.

CD review - The Morning Pages - Rising Rain (2010)

The Morning Pages have gotten some recent web attention with their take on Lady Gaga's Telephone, which is more tongue in cheek than anything on Rising Rain. But it does give a sense of the band's range, which is more of a mix of '70s folk and country rock blended with mid-'60s rock. It's retro, but vibrant enough to avoid sounding like a museum relic. There are plenty of other references scattered across Rising Rain, which all seem to mesh. The surprise is that this Brooklyn band evokes such a strong California feel.

The opening couple of songs, With the Lord and Stumble Towards the Light, have the strongest country feel. Despite (or maybe because of) the repetitive lyric format, With the Lord is an earworm. It's got a great chorus hook, with sweet harmonies. The leads alternate between a rock grind and a country twang.

Songs like Live With You stir up Jefferson Airplane with the Zombies. This rolls in a smooth retro channel: it's got the changes, the instrumentation, the acid lead, and the general feel of late '60s rock.

This City Keeps Me Down is like Creedence Clearwater Revival covering Chuck Berry's Memphis. Throw the right lead voice on it and it could be anyone from the Beat Farmers to Drive By Truckers. Regardless of the references, it's a rollicking, fun foot-tapper.

For me, though, the sweet spot is Makes Me Cry. It owes a lot to Curtis Mayfield's People Get Ready and a bit to Blind Faith's Presence of the Lord. The piano and organ work are exquisite, like Al Kooper going to church. All the pieces fit together perfectly -- from the smooth guitar to the lagging bass to the rich backing vocals. The bluesy gospel feels perfect after blues vibe of All My Friends.

There's nothing experimental or challenging here, which makes it a comfortable easy chair of an album. There's a plain honesty to these songs, though, that satisfies. It's not a guilty pleasure, Rising Rain is just a pleasure. The effect is like a fine traditional mead; simple honey can still be complex.

Concert Review - Drive By Truckers with the Henry Clay People

14 May 2010 (Aggie Theatre, Ft. Collins CO)
Despite the cold drizzle outside, it was cooking inside the Aggie. A full crowd came out, ready to party down with some earnest rocking music. The Drive By Truckers pulled fans from as far away as Nebraska -- there's no question that it was worth the drive.

The Henry Clay People

I talked to frontman Joey Siara before the show and he was upbeat on the audience crossover from the Drive By Truckers to the Henry Clay People. "I think that overall, I've been impressed by the crowd's openmindedness, letting a young band flop around on stage." This was the last night of their tour together and they were making the most of it.

The Henry Clay People balanced professionalism with fun. The transitions between songs were fairly quick and smooth, but they had a wilder feel during the songs that grabbed the audience. With a hard rock beat and resonating guitars, the sibling energy between brothers Joey and Andy was a strong symbol for the tightness of the band. They had a great stage presence. Andy's lead guitar was soulful and tasteful and the keys were a stronger component of their live sound.

They played through a number of new songs from Somewhere on the Golden Coast (reviewed here), including Working Part Time, a faster tempo version of Your Famous Friends, the Ian Hunter tinged Slow Burn, and the slow ballad A Temporary Fix. They also played some of their older songs, like Rock and Roll Has Lost Its Teeth and the The Switch Kids.

Having proven their chops with their original songs, they pulled out some nice covers, including Mott the Hoople's Roll Away the Stone, an impromptu Life on Mars (Bowie), and CCR's Who'll Stop the Rain. Closing out their set, they did a medley of classic covers with references to Lou Reed, David Bowie, the Faces, and the Who. It was energetic, earnest rock and roll. The Henry Clay People are definitely worth seeing live. This summer, they'll be touring with Silver Sun Pickups, mostly on the East Coast.

Drive By Truckers

The anticipation built, waiting for the Drive By Truckers to take the stage. After a fairly long wait and rowdy chants of "DBT! DBT!", the band took the stage. They rolled into a hard rocking Drag The Lake Charlie, with a cool offbeat rhythm on the verses and sweet pedal tone lead licks.

The Drive By Truckers are sometimes classed as alt-country or country rock, but their music transcends genre. Last night, they leapt from ballad to rocker to blues, more concerned with keeping the show moving than pigeonholing their style. There was a tip of the hat to country music, but their influences came from across the board: Southern rock like the Charlie Daniels Band, Allman Brothers blues, a taste of REM and plenty of Tom Petty rock. Their open sound drove their appeal to different crowds, which all came together Friday night.

Throughout the show, their famed three axe attack carried the songs, providing a tangled jangle of guitars. In particular, John Neff played riff after riff of tasteful lead. Whether he was playing slide or more standard leads, he was always laid back in contrast to his hot finger work.

Mike Cooley and Patterson Hood took turns driving songs, most the time with the audience singing along. They played a number of favorites, like Your Daddy Hates Me, The Company I Keep, and Checkout Time in Vegas. My favorite two tunes were the cool angular vibe of Sink Hole, which reminded me of the Beat Farmers, and the beautiful Santa Fe, anchored by sweet steel guitar work. Santa Fe's psychedelic lead jam contrasted nicely with Patterson's heartfelt vocals and the simple rolling rhythm.

Throughout the set, bassist Shonna Tucker was steady and true, following all of the stylistic shifts and contributing the occasional vocal. A key part of that three axe attack was how well the bass fit in, meshing with one part, then another.

The encore dragged the night on, but no one was in a hurry to leave. At the very end, they brought the Henry Clay People back out to play a crowded cover of Jim Carroll's People Who Died. We may not have died, but we were in heaven.

Raise a glass of fine Bourbon to the Dirty South.

More photos on my Flickr.