Max Vague - maxvague (2005)

This one came out some time ago – over a year, to be exact – but the Reverend has refrained from writing about it until now. It's not that your humble scribe couldn't put his finger on it, it's just that after reviewing nearly every Max Vague album extant, from 1991's Love In A Thousand Faces through 1998's Kill The Giant, this critic had run out of superlatives and adjectives to use in describing Vague's work. I have long asserted that Vague is the most exciting and interesting musician working in Nashville over the past decade (only the talented and chameleon-like Aashid Himmons comes close).

While other local artists/bands have been chasing trends or working in established (i.e. commercial) musical genres, Vague has continued to push the envelope, to expand his sound with various musicians, studio techniques and artistic experimentation. Yet, outside of a loyal cult following, Max gets no respect from the industry "powers-that-be" in the "Music City." These mindless authority figures that should be bowing at his feet and offering praise to the gods that Nashville has an artist as willing to bare their soul as has Vague over the course of five albums.

Vague's self-titled sixth album does not fall short of his previous work. Although he has once again expanded his sound – towards a more atmospheric vibe – the songs are all vintage Vague. A vastly underrated guitarist, Vague coaxes and coerces tones from his stick that these ears have never heard, complimenting his impressive fretwork with imaginative keyboard/synth work and sparse percussion. Unlike his last few albums, which were created with a small band including drummer Kenny Wright, Vague plays all the instruments this time around (save for a lone guitar from Wright on one song).

As per usual, Vague produced the album in his home studio, the last true lone wolf of "D.I.Y." perhaps, Vague eschewing label involvement to better capture his unique musical vision. Also per usual, Vague's production on maxvague is immaculate, his seamless layering of vocals and instrumentation in the painting of each track a fine example of self-independence that should have the recording industry quaking in their boots. If the labels can't control the production and dumbing-down of an artist's vision, how will they control the commercial process? Vague is a rebel and a pioneer and if he never records another record, he can be proud of what he has accomplished.

So what about the songs on maxvague? You could term them prog-rock or art-rock or psychedelic rock or any one of a number of useless labels and you'd be both right and wrong. Vague's unique vision is informed by the likes of Peter Gabriel, Brian Eno, Pink Floyd, the Beatles – a veritable melting pot of artist influences, filtered through an amazing creative mind. Although Vague's oblique, poetic lyrics are often times quite maddening, defying interpretation, they provide hours of food for thought and are supported by a complex, deeply-emotional soundscape.

In the wake of Vague's divorce, an identity crisis, artistic meltdown and romance renewed, much of maxvague the album deals with the mind, the fragile instrument that is the wellspring of emotion, creativity and thought. Woven throughout these songs are many questions that we could all ask of ourselves. "break it down" asks "am I cracking up? am I already there?" before concluding that "I can't connect or redirect or make sense of this mess." Vague's personal anguish comes to the fore, the artist singing "nobody will ever understand the way this feels," pointing out that emotion is truly personal and none of us ever really understand what is going on inside somebody else's heart and mind. The album-opening "lights out" features a swirl of sound that recycles a common riff from half-dozen previous songs, Vague's muted vocals almost lost in the mix. The song "break it down" features the clever use of a main vocal supported by sparse instrumentation and a multi-tracked underlying vocal that runs throughout the song.

With the cautious "321212" Vague is careful not to reveal too much, not to his audience or to friends and lovers, singing "you will never know my name, you will not see me again" over and over, denying any human connection and retreating behind a mask of emotion. The artist's alienation is profound, choking on his emotions with "sometimes," a taut, fuzzed-out guitar lead supporting the chorus "sometimes I can't get my breath," the important, insightful comment "life's a cruel teacher" hidden away in the middle of the song, almost lost amidst dense instrumentation. Clues to Vague's state of mind are scattered through the lyrics, enlightening bits of codes that defy deciphering: "I wish I was a better man." "Call me unpredictable." "All it would take is a little patience to get me through this complacence." "I'm in awe of the power, it's got me on my knees."

It is love that throws a life preserver to the drowning man, pulling him out of depression and confusion and desperation and providing a light in the darkness. The album closes with "deeper," an affirmation of being that has the protagonist fighting the feelings swelling up inside, "the door is locked, so I walk around" leads into "I'm not going there again." In the end, despite his best attempts, "you turn around and all I see" is how maxvague closes, the song cycle coming full circle, the singer traveling through a personal hell to emerge out of the darkness an older and, hopefully wiser man.

The album is also about the choices we make and the consequences that we suffer. Max Vague is a friend of mine, and although I can't say that I've always agreed with the choices that he has made through the years, he has always pursued his own vision and followed his own counsel, no matter the personal cost. There's no denying the power of his music, Vague's gift of artistic expression and his instrumental prowess making him the most consistently interesting and intriguing artist working in the American underground today. The album maxvague is an important, vital addition to the artist's canon, and a CD that should not be overlooked by any listener desiring an intense and personal musical experience. (Eleven Records)

(Click on the CD cover to buy maxvague from CD Baby)

Bonepony - Traveler's Companion (1999)

It's safe to say that Nashville's Bonepony is, perhaps, the most unique band that you'll ever experience. Comparisons don't do them justice when there's no band on earth that these ears have heard that sounds anywhere close to the original mix of rock, folk, country, bluegrass and blues that these guys have created. The folks at Capital Records evidently agree,
dumping the band after a single fine album that the label obviously had no idea how to market. Undaunted, Bonepony
founders Scott Johnson and Bryan Ward regrouped with new member Tramp on fiddle (ex-Cactus Brothers), the trio
recording and releasing the excellent Traveler's Companion on their own SuperDuper Recordings label.

Hewing closer to traditional music forms than even many alt-country bands are willing to risk, Bonepony nevertheless rock with the enthusiasm and energy of any half-a-dozen heavy metal bands. Kicking out the jams with an unlikely mix of fiddle, mandolin, banjo, dobro and other folksy instruments and featuring excellent vocal harmonies, the raw spirit of the music serves to support the finely-crafted songs on Traveler's Companion. Original songs like the sweetly spiritual “Sweet Bye And Bye,” the country-flavored “Savanna Flowers” or the witty and charming “Fish In The Sea” are smart, engaging affairs that tend to grow on you with each hearing, regardless of the sparse nature of the backing instrumentation.

Bonepony called upon some high-octane friends to assist in making Traveler's Companion, among them Lucinda Williams, Reese Wynans, Brad Jones and Wilco's Ken Coomer. The band's production works quite well, their light touch emphasizing the songs rather than any individual agenda. Since the band had complete creative control of the project, they released the disc in a package composed of industrial hemp, using soy ink for the printing, a smart choice in my
book. If you're tired of vacuous pop artists and cookie-cutter FM radio rock bands, treat yourself to something different and check out Bonepony. Traveler's Companion is proof that you don't have to be signed to a major label to produce major league music. (Super Duper Recordings)

(Click on the CD cover to buy Traveler's Companion from Amazon.com)

Bonepony - Feeling It (2006)

It should come as no surprise that Feeling It, Bonepony's fourth studio album, should open with a song like "Home." Although the band's roster has shuffled a bit through the years, revolving around frontman Scott Johnson, the current line-up of Johnson, Nicolas Nguyen and Kenny Wright represents decades of experience and tens of thousands of miles on the road. Grizzled veterans of countless local and regional bands, the trio has earned every right to be tired, fed up with the music business and worn down by the rigors of the road. Yet "Home," at once both spry and weary, is a celebration of both those left behind and the brotherhood of the road, "singing in a traveling band." The song offers the usual mixed genres of Bonepony's sound, an overall bluesy feel complimented by a bluegrassy stomp and strum.

Concerned with relationships – with family, with friends, with fans – Feeling It is an affirmation of the band's faith in the power of music. Relationships are hard to manage when you spend 100+ nights a year on the road, and the value of a family waiting for you increases with every mile traveled. Several songs here touch upon the subject, dissecting it from different perspectives. The guys are clearly reconciling the wanderlust of their chosen profession with the need for roots and romance. Whether directly addressing the issue, as with the Southern-fried funk of "She's My Religion" or the mournful, high lonesome sound of "Colour Blue," or indirectly, as with "Good News," the question rises to the forefront of the album. The wonderful "Something Good" is classic Bonepony, sparse acoustic instrumentation matched with infectious vocal harmonies in the creation of a complex love letter that would translate well to both rock and country radio (if the medium wasn't run by idiots).

The high point, in my mind, of Feeling It is the defiant "Farewell," a recommitment to the muse that calls all three bandmembers, a casting off of the ghosts of the past and the negative energy that would drag them down. Sung by Johnson with a deliberate hesitancy, the song brings the album full circle, where all roads lead back home. It jumps directly into the triumphant title song, the band finally succumbing to the siren of the stage, balancing family and fans with the magic of the music. It's only appropriate that the album closes with "Park City Jam," a brief yet energetic reprise of "Home" with whoops and hollers and handclaps that punctuate the joy and jubilation that is the root of Feeling It.

Bonepony's music, for those unfamiliar with the band, is an eclectic mix of rock, country, folk, blues and bluegrass. It's a sound as old as the Appalachian Mountains and as alien to today's trend-driven, focus-group-created-frankenrock as you could possibly be. This is music for the heart and soul, not for corporate marketing. Bonepony's sound translates well to the stage, where the acoustic instrumentation and the band's dynamic performances can spark a fire hotter than a Delta roadhouse on a Saturday night. With no disrespect to former fiddle player Tramp, the addition of multi-instrumentalist Kenny Wright to the trio was a smart move, widening the band's capabilities even as they strip these songs down to the basics. Feeling It will both satisfy longtime fans and earn the band new fans, the album's honesty and energy an antidote to the restless dissatisfaction felt by many music lovers. If you're looking for something new and exciting, look no further than Bonepony. (Super Duper Recordings)

Aashid & the Mountain Soul Band - West Virginia Hills (1999)

For almost two decades now, Aashid Himons has been Nashville's most adventuresome musician. Sure, there's lots of players making $1,000 a session up and down "Music Row" who claim to be able to play varying styles of music, but few of them give up their cushy day jobs to blaze any new trails. From the moment Aashid first set foot in the "Music City," however, he's done whatever strikes his fancy, whether that might be playing reggae, blues, space music or even a bit of country. From his work with the first incarnation of the wonderfully talented Afrikan Dreamland through a solo career and various collaborations with other artists, Himons has reveled in the sheer joy of making music, commercial considerations be damned. With the release of the Mountain Soul CD, Aashid sojourned back to his hillbilly roots and created an inspired collection of songs that draw upon a musical tradition almost as old as the Appalachian mountains themselves.

West Virginia Hills is a live document of many of the songs from Mountain Soul, performed by Himons and his "Mountain Soul Band" at Gibson's Café Milano in Nashville. Comprised of some of the most underrated musical talents that the Nashville scene has to offer, the Mountain Soul Band is up to the task of recreating these songs in a live setting. It is a testament to Aashid's talents and the respect provided him by Nashville's best musicians that Aashid can get artists of this caliber together for such a performance. (I count at least three successful solo artists on this roster as well as former members or players with artists like Lisa Germano, the Cactus Brothers and Bonepony).

The material on West Virginia Hills is a spirited mix of blues, bluegrass, roots rock and country with elements of Celtic and African music. With spiritual and musical influences that range from the highest mountaintop in Appalachia to the lowest cotton field in the Mississippi Delta, the performances here possess the soul and fervor of a church revival and the energy and electricity of a mosh pit at any punk show. Although many of the songs are originals, such as the joyful title track or the Delta-styled "Country Blues," there are also the well-chosen covers expected of such a project, musical homage's to the artists who created the music evolve: folks like Willie Dixon, Blind Willie McTell and Muddy Waters. Aashid's mesmerizing "The Captain's Song" is another highlight from the Mountain Soul album performed here live.

There are fewer and fewer artists these days willing to "walk on the wild side" and embrace styles of music that are completely without commercial potential. Some, like Bruce Springsteen's flirtation with folk music or Steve Earle's recent bluegrass project, are natural outgrowths of the artist's roots. In other instances, however, as with Aashid Himons and the members of the Mountain Soul Band, it is done out of a sheer love and respect for the music they're performing. The material presented with much skill and reverence on West Virginia Hills is more than a mere throwback to another era – it's also the root of all the music we enjoy today. For that alone, Aashid and the Mountain Soul Band deserve a loud "thanks!" (Gandibu Music)

Aashid - Mountain Soul (1999)

Aashid Himons has been a fixture of Nashville's non-country music scene for long that it's easy to take him for granted. One of the founders of the near-legendary band Afrikan Dreamland in the early-80s, Aashid has been the voice of conscious of the Music City's alternative culture for almost two decades now. Whether as a musician exploring the depths of reggae, space music or the blues; a documentary filmmaker; host of the influential "Aashid Presents" television show; or as a crusader for many social causes, Aashid's multi-media talents have always been intelligent, vital and thought-provoking.

Nevertheless, Aashid's latest musical effort – the Mountain Soul CD – comes as a surprise in spite of his past track record as an innovator and trailblazer. A collection of country blues, hillbilly folk and other traditionally styled music, Aashid has shown us yet another facet of his immense talent with Mountain Soul's enchanting performances. An African-American with his roots in the mountains of West Virginia, Himons explains the lineage of this material in the CD's liner notes. In the harsh hills of Virginia and West Virginia, Kentucky and Tennessee, African slaves often played music alongside the poor Irish and Scottish immigrants of the area. The resulting collaboration created a folk music tradition that spawned such genres as gospel, bluegrass, blues and country music.

To be honest, there aren't many musicians these days exploring the artistic milieu that Mountain Soul showcases so boldly. On Mountain Soul Aashid works alongside some of Nashville's best – and most underrated – musicians, folks like Giles Reaves, fiddle wizard Tramp and bassist Victor Wooten. Himons has created here a mesmerizing song cycle that incorporates original songs written in the authentic signature of the hills as well as a handful of timeless classics. Aashid's commanding baritone is perfectly suited to this material, whether singing a soulful, blues-infused cover of Hendrix's "Voodoo Child," the mournful spiritualism of Rev. Gary Davis' "You Got To Move" or on originals like the moving "Stranger In Paradise," or with the talking blues matched by some nifty guitar work on "The Crazy Blues."

One of my personal favorites on Mountain Soul is "Mr. Bailey," Aashid's tribute to the first star of the Grand Ole Opry, harmonica wizard Deford Bailey. A talented and charismatic African-American musician from East Tennessee, Bailey's lively performances popularized the Opry radio broadcast in the thirties and helped launched the careers of such country legends as Roy Acuff and Bill Monroe. Tragically, Bailey's contributions to the Opry and American music have been forgotten. It has long been Aashid's crusade to get Bailey his long-deserved place in the Country Music Hall Of Fame, and this song is another reminder of that glaring injustice.

Mountain Soul is definitely not an album for the casual user of music, requiring more than a three minute, radio-influenced and MTV-bred attention span. Although the album's style and often times simple instrumentation might not seem so upon first listen, these are frightfully complex songs – musically multi-layered and emotionally powerful. This is music as old as the earth itself, its origins in the blood and sweat and tears of the common people who created it. With Mountain Soul Aashid Himons has paid an honor to both the roots of all popular modern music and the forgotten artists who wrote it. Mountain Soul is an artistically and spiritually enriching listening experience, a musical trip through time that will clear the cobwebs out of your ears, rekindle the fire in your heart and remind you of the reasons you began to love music in the first place. (Gandibu Music)

Pete Berwick - Only Bleeding (2002)

Like many a troubadour before him, Pete Berwick made his way to Nashville in search of fame and fortune. Also like many artists that walked that same road, he ended up returning home years later without much fame and even less fortune. Berwick did all the things expected of an artist in the Music City, playing his songs at "writer's nights" in local clubs at night and working a day job at the car wash while waiting for his big break. He signed a songwriting deal with a storefront publisher and hooked up with a fly-by-night indie label. What seemed like a sure thing, a track placed in the River Phoenix movie The Thing Called Love, came to naught when his manager lacked the juice to get the song included on the soundtrack album.

After his Nashville fiasco, Berwick moved back to Chicago, older, wiser and just a little worse for the wear. He gave up music for a while, playing sporadically and writing a few songs. Luckily, the story doesn't end with this tale of dashed hopes and broken dreams. The attraction of the muse is a strong one, and I've personally never met a serious artist who could be kept away from their creative outlet for long. Berwick gathered a group of grizzled Chicago rock-and-blues veterans to record one song in the studio; they ended up recording Only Bleeding, a ten-track reaffirmation of the power of rock & roll, and a fresh start for Pete Berwick. A fiercely independent songwriter and performer who has found that he doesn't need the corporate label system to make a musical statement, Berwick's fourth album is the accumulation of almost a decade of artistic trials and tribulations.

Only Bleeding showcases all of Berwick's various influences and incarnations, the songs mixing rock, country and blues in the creation of a heady musical elixir. "Must Think She Loves Me" and the hilarious "Nuclear Boy" are energetic, punk-tinged rockers while "Cold Steel Gun" is a barroom weeper complete with T.C. Furlong's delicious steel guitar and Berwick's appropriately morose vocals. With the biker anthem "Outsider" Berwick has created a new musical genre -- "metallic country" -- the song a defiant declaration of alienation that matches Nashville twang with tasty power chords. The title track is a Dylanesque country blues tune with wonderful vocals, Berwick's mournful mouth harp work and well-placed piano courtesy of Denny Daniels. The album-closing "Standing At The Gates Of Hell" is a lively rocker with brilliant imagery, the story of a poor working class loser who dies and shows up "at the gates of hell" only to find that they won't let him in. It sounds a lot like Jason & the Scorchers -- another obvious influence -- but with Berwick's Rodney Dangerfield-like lyrics and dynamic delivery it's a wonderful pairing of roots rock and honky-tonk soul.

It's with "Gotta Get Out Of Here," the centerpiece of Only Bleeding, that Berwick hits that once-in-a-lifetime adrenaline O.D. where decades of rage and frustration are expressed perfectly in a three-minute rock song. In the tradition of Eric Burdon's "We Gotta Get Out Of This Place" or Bruce Springsteen's "Jackson Cage," the song is about hopelessness and dashed dreams and, in a more personal vein, the torment of being a talented musician in a land of mundane mediocrity. When Berwick sings "I got a daytime job, teevee at night, if the boredom don't kill me, then the cigarettes might," he's expressing the fears of every factory worker, slaughterhouse grunt and service industry wage slave who suspects that there must be something more to life. For Berwick, the song itself is an act of transcendence, its performance "getting" him out of here, his tortured vocals and screaming guitar allowing the artist a brief moment of escape. It's a powerful musical moment, a solid example of why most of us started listening to rock & roll in the first place.

Berwick sees the world of human relationships and frailties with a folkie's sensitivity and writes about them with the poetic blue-collar perspective of a Steve Earle or Bruce Springsteen. A gifted songwriter and charismatic performer, Berwick is a true rock & roll survivor, an artist of integrity and vision who never even stood a chance in the industry babylon that is Nashville. Only Bleeding offers an eclectic mix of styles that defies industry homogenization to deliver a strong and thoroughly enjoyable musical experience for the listener. Pete Berwick has been singing his songs for a small, if faithful audience for far too long; with Only Bleeding, people will be forced to listen. (Shotgun Records)

(Click on the CD cover to buy a copy of Only Bleeding from Amazon.com)

Tommy Womack - Stubborn (2000)

After listening steadily to Tommy Womack's debut album, Positively Ya-Ya, constantly for a couple of years, I've finally figured it out, put my finger on Womack's place in this great rock & roll whatsis. The recent arrival of Stubborn, Womack's brilliant sophomore effort, reinforces my conclusion: Tommy Womack is the new Harry Nielsen! Now, now, stay with me here. Much like that maligned and often-overlooked pop genius, Womack is capable of performing in a number of musical genres, from rock and blues to country and everywhere in between. Both artists write great songs with slightly skewed lyrical perspectives, and both have a keen eye for skilled sidemen. Whereas Nielsen would enter the studio with various Beatles in tow, Womack records with the cream of Nashville's underrated rock music scene, talents like Will Kimbrough, George Bradfute, Mike Grimes, Ross Rice and Brad Jones. Womack may have a more southern-fried perspective than Nielsen, but the parallels are obvious.

Womack's Stubborn opens with the chaotic "Rubbermaid," a short stream-of-consciousness rant similar to Captain Beefheart or John Trubee, backed by syncopated drums and flailing harmonica. It jumps from there right into "Up Memphis Blues," an energetic rocker with a blues edge that includes some tasty slide guitar courtesy of Al Perkins. "Christian Rocker" is a hilarious interlude with fantastic imagery dropped in between songs while "I Don't Have A Gun" is an angry blues tune featuring appropriately tortured vocals from Womack and some southern rock styled six-string work from Womack and George Bradfute.

"For The Battered," a song from Womack's old band and Southeast legends Govt. Cheese, is recycled here as an electric blues with some wicked, dark-hued slide guitar from Will Kimbrough supporting the story. It's the most powerful musical statement that I've heard on domestic violence and I still get chills every time the asshole girlfriend beater's karma catches up with him. Stubborn's single cover is of the Kink's "Berkeley Mews," a somewhat obscure Ray Davies gem offered here in a fairly straight-forward rendition that says as much about Womack's sophisticated musical tastes as it does about his ability to pull the song off on record.

Most critics, when writing of Womack, praise his songwriting abilities, pointing out the numerous characters that live in his songs. They're really missing Womack's strongest skill, however -- any hack can people their songs with junkies, whores and ne'er-do-wells of various stripes (listen to any heavy metal lately?). Womack's strength is in his composition of memorable lines, clever and intelligent lyrical bombs often thrown into the middle of songs to infect the listener's consciousness days after hearing a song. Witness some of the poetic explosives hidden in the songs on Stubborn: "I'd crawl back in the womb right now if Jesus would show up and point the way." "Gonna find me a woman who won't fall apart on the witness stand." "I want to be a Christian rocker but the devil's got all the good drummers." "She was a Presbyterian in a porno picture, tossing her values aside." "You can all go straight to hell, you'd better cut and run, get on your knees and thank the lord that I don't have a gun."

It's a skill that separates Womack from the mundane "Music Row" factory writers in Nashville even as it marginalizes him from the whitebread world of radio and mainstream music. It also shows his Southern heritage as religious tradition and rock & roll yearnings clash for the soul of the songwriter with the resulting imagery creating some of rock's best rhymes. Among southern rockers, only Jason & the Scorchers' Jason Ringenburg and, perhaps, Alex Chilton can match Womack word for word.

The material and performances on Stubborn sound more confident, Womack's talents sharply honed by a couple of years of live shows and collaborations with other artists. A gifted storyteller, an amazing songwriter and an energetic performer, Womack is one of Nashville's best and brightest. Although an indie rocker in style and attitude, Womack's work deserves the widest audience possible, distribution and promotion that only a major label could provide -- if any of the corporate A&R geeks could get their collective heads out of their respective boss' rear ends long enough to listen. Personally, as long as Womack gets to keep making records like Stubborn I'll be happy enough. (Sideburn Records)

(Click on the CD cover to buy a copy of Stubborn from Amazon.com)

Tommy Womack - Positively Na Na (1998)

A long-time fixture of the Nashville area music scene – first as a member of the legendary Bowling Green, Kentucky band Govt. Cheese and later as a part of Will Kimbrough's vastly underrated band Bis-quits – Tommy Womack finally gets to flex his muscle and show off his stuff with a solo album. With Positively Na Na Womack scores an artistic bull's-eye.

Positively Na Na is a solid collection of country-flavored pop tunes that evince the same sort of quick wit and black humor that Womack showed in The Cheese Chronicles, his memoirs of life on the road with Govt. Cheese and possibly the best book ever written about rock & roll. Womack works with one foot firmly in the sort of roots rock practiced by Bruce Springsteen and Tom Petty and the other foot in the same honky-tonk country that influenced folks like Jason & The Scorchers. Possessing a knack for story-telling, Womack pens intelligent, self-referential lyrics, the songs often dangling more than a few pop hooks from their infectious choruses.

Stand-out tracks on Positively Na Na include "Skinny & Small," the rightful revenge of every junior high non-jock; and Womack's ode to lost rockers, "Whatever Happened To Cheetah Chrome?" With a band that includes Nashville pop maestro Brad Jones (who also co-produced the disc), guitar wizard George Bradfute and the multi-talented Ross Rice, Womack pulls off with Positively Na Na that most difficult of tricks: a debut album that is as smart, likeable and entertaining as its creator. Far too talented for major label suits to recognize, Womack remains one of Nashville and the indie world's greatest secrets. (Checkered Past Records)

(Click on the CD cover to buy Positively Na Na from Amazon.com)