When “Little” Steven Van Zandt toured Europe during the early ‘80s with his Disciples of Soul band, he saw the sad results of Reagan administration foreign policy. Speaking with the people he met in the towns that he played, Van Zandt became politicized, a philosophical transformation that resulted in a brace of overtly political albums. The culmination of Little Steven’s left-leaning political evolution was the Sun City project, a direct artistic assault on South Afrikan apartheid.
Americana music pioneer Jason Ringenberg comes from quite a different background than the Jersey-born-and-bred Van Zandt. The son of an Illinois hog farmer, Ringenberg is more of an “aw shucks” populist than a tree-hugging leftist, and neither his previous solo work or his tenure as frontman for Jason & the Scorchers reveal little of his politics. While touring Europe and Australia in support of his All Over Creation solo disc, Jason found himself questioned and criticized over American policy and the actions of the current administration. It proved to be embarrassing and frustrating and it opened the artist’s eyes to a radically different perspective than that shown by Fox News.
Jason Ringenberg’s Empire Builders
The result of Jason Ringenberg’s politicization is Empire Builders, his third solo rock album and strongest effort to date. The songs written for Empire Builders try to make sense of America’s place in a post-911 world and collectively evince a more critical view of the country. There is no flaming rhetoric or paint-by-numbers polemics on Empire Builders, nor is there any flag-waving jingoism. What you will find, however, is a cautious and considered artistic response to current events. The album opens with “American Question,” Jason thoughtfully asking “can we export dignity, respecting those who disagree” over Jim Roll’s taut recurring riff, the song a minimalist response to an American foreign policy of “bomb-em-and-Big-Mac-em.”
Several other songs on Empire Builders also touch on 21st century manifest destiny. “New-Fashioned Imperialist,” a jaunty satire of CEO stereotypes, is sung over the oompa riffing of Dave Jacques’ tuba while “American Reprieve” is a continuation of the opening cut, delivered as the kind of jazzy tone poem that you might expect from an artist like Ed Hammel, not good old Jason. “Rebel Flag In Germany” laughingly criticizes the “Confederate” mindset that is so prevalent in the south, including his adopted home of Tennessee. Jason’s embarrassment over seeing a rebel flag on a barn in Germany is equaled only by his shame at the fact that the flag – a symbol of racism and slavery no matter what the southern heritage Neanderthals claim – still flies on flagpoles and pick-up trucks across the south.
Ringenberg balances out his social commentary with humanistic tales such as “Tuskegee Pride,” Jason’s love of history resulting in the masterfully crafted story of a World War II African-American pilot. The song remembers the racism that these brave soldiers and their families endured even while fighting for freedom for their children and grandchildren. It is a reminder that we still have a long way to go with the issue of race in this country. “Half the Man” is a loving tribute to his father while a rocking remembrance of guitarist Link Wray pays homage to the criminally overlooked rocker (with a little help from Los Straitjackets axeman Eddie Angel). All the songs on Empire Builders are presented in the twangy folk/rock/country hybrid that has become Jason’s signature sound. Former Webb Wilder sideman and longtime Jason foil George Bradfute lends his considerable six-string skills to most of the songs and Fats Kaplin fills out the sound with some tasty pedal steel guitar.
The Reverend’s Bottom Line
After twenty-something years on the old rock ‘n’ roll highway, Jason continues to grow and mature as a performer and a songwriter. Ringenberg doesn’t claim to have all the answers on Empire Builders, but he does ask some mighty damn good questions… (Courageous Chicken/Yep Roc Records, released 2004)
Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™ zine...
It would be too damn easy to dismiss the Damnwells as a mere Wilco clone, given the band’s penchant for mournful vocals and weeping guitars. The truth is, although the seven songs on this EP skew awfully close to Jeff Tweedy’s artistic vision, the Damnwells throw a few disparate elements into the mix, barely separating themselves from the alt-country legends.
For one thing, the Damnwells fill their guitar pop with traces of psychedelic instrumentation, the brightly shining guitar of Dave Chernis adding swirls of texture behind Alex Dezen’s appropriately morose vocals. The rhythm section of bassist Ted Hudson and former Whiskeytown drummer Steven Terry are solid, if underutilized.
The band’s songwriting tends to lean towards Tweedy’s minimalist lyricism and, lacking the Wilco frontman’s ability to create emotional architecture, the Damnwells come across as less-interesting travelers on an already familiar road. The band should emphasize the aspects that elevate their sound, allowing themselves greater freedom with its instrumentation and pumping up Dezen’s vocals.
Pmr + 1 is a 2002 reissue of an earlier six-song disc self-produced by the Damnwells, so they may have already outgrown their Wilco fascination and moved onto something else entirely. The Damnwells are worth keeping an eye on just to see what they do next. (In Music We Trust, released 2002)
Review originally published by Jersey Beat music zine...
Many music fans may remember Tom Gray’s name from his early ‘80s band the Brains. Down South, ‘round the Nashville-Atlanta-Birmingham triangle, the band was a hot commodity back in the day. The Brains’ self-titled debut album for Mercury Records yielded a minor college radio hit in the bittersweet “Money Changes Everything,” which would later become a huge mainstream hit for Cyndi Lauper. After the monster success of “Money Changes Everything,” Gray moved to Nashville with an eye towards becoming a country songwriter. The talented scribe soon found that a songwriter’s life in the Music City is more about politics and relationships than about talent and, well, songs … so Gray hightailed it back to Atlanta.
Gray’s Nashville tenure produced one positive, however, in that it interested the artist in traditional styles of music. Meeting up with fellow guitarist Mark Johnson, the two formed Delta Moon, a blues-rock band. A number of bass players and drummers have passed through the band in the decade since, as have a pair of fine female singers. With Clear Blue Flame, Delta Moon’s fourth studio album, though, Gray takes over as the band’s vocalist in a move that changes the texture, but not the overall direction of Delta Moon’s unique sound.
Delta Moon’s Clear Blue Flame
Gray’s swampadelic guitar licks kick off the eerie “Clear Blue Flame.” A laid-back yet rockin’ tale of love and betrayal, “Clear Blue Flame” speaks to the heart-numbing qualities of well-made ‘shine. Gray’s gruff vocals and the song’s overall dark vibe reminds of kudzu dropping off the cypress trees in some deep, lost corner of the South. “Stranger In My Hometown” tells of the alienation caused by “progress,” a gentle rhythm supporting Gray’s soulful vocals, the tune offering some delicious six-string sounds. A wicked bad guitar lick hits your ears at the beginning of “Lap Dog,” a classically-styled blues song with Maxwell Street lyrics and a Bourbon Street soundtrack. “I’m A Witness” sways and stutters back and forth, a wonky rhythm supporting Gray’s testimony and some fierce slidework.
The juke-joint holler “You Done Told Everybody” comes straight from the heart of the Delta, Gray and Johnson offering some tasty syncopated fretwork and Charley Patton-styled percussive rhythms beneath Gray’s best Son House vocals. “Jessie Mae” is a wonderful, heartfelt tribute to the late Mississippi Hill Country blueswoman Jessie Mae Hemphill. Gray and Johnson do this one up right, down tuning their guitars, pulling a nasty circular riff out of the Burnside songbook, and bringing it home with a steady, driving rhythm. The song tells of the triumphs and tragedies of Hemphill’s life, but it could also serve as the life story of many blues musicians. The duo’s playing on “Jessie Mae” is magnificent, twin guitars reaching across a smoke-filled juke-joint to grab you by the ears.
Money Changes Everything
With “Money Changes Everything,” Gray covers his own song and lays waste to his past. Whereas the original 1980 Brains version displayed a power-pop edge, and Cyndi Lauper’s 1984 chart-topping reading of the song carried with it a greater sense of yearning, this roosty remake of the song seems to hit the nail right on the head. Starting with a nice acoustic, almost Appalachian-sounding intro, Gray’s voice kicks in, more strained and hoarse than on any other song here, incorporating the emotion of Lauper’s version with a sorrowful acceptance.
Although the song originally spoke of the factors that influence relationships and romance, better than two decades down the road, it could also serve as Gray’s life story, that of the creative wunderkind shooting his way to the top only to be dumped on when the gold rush didn’t pan out as planned. By slowing down the song’s pace, providing it with a sparse acoustic framework, and imbuing it with a worldly weariness, Gray has actually improved upon his already impressive original version of the song with this powerful backwoods doppelganger.
The Reverend’s Bottom Line
Anybody casually picking up Clear Blue Flame on the basis of Gray’s long-past work, expecting to hear the power-pop of the Brains, will be sorely disappointed. The savvy music consumer, however, grabbing a copy of this – or any other Delta Moon album – just to hear the band’s wonderful fusion of swamp-blues, roots-rock, and acoustic mountain music will certainly be entertained.
Tom Gray and Mark Johnson are skilled musicians, well-schooled in the nuances of the styles they’re working in, and both are fine slide-guitarists. Gray has aged well as a songwriter; his tales of ordinary folks, failed romances, and hopeful losers comprise a new Southern Gothic literature worthy of the bluesmen (and women) of the 1920s and ‘30s. Although firmly rooted in the Delta blues and hillbilly music of the past, Delta Moon delivers with a ferocity and passion that can only be expressed in the present. (Jumping Jack Records, released 2007)
Over the past decade and half a dozen albums, Atlanta-based roots ‘n’ blues outfit Delta Moon has quietly made a name for itself as a sturdy, Delta blues-inspired outfit. Driven by the creative vision of singer, songwriter, and guitarist Tom Gray (who, in another life, wrote the Cyndi Lauper hit “Money Changes Everything” while fronting 1980s-era new wave band the Brains) and his musical partner, guitarist Mark Johnson have built upon a hallowed Mississippi blues tradition by heaping on roots-rock, folk, and gospel flavors.
With the band’s 7th album, the refreshingly-erudite Black Cat Oil, Gray and Johnson continue to expand the band’s trademark sound by imbuing their already heady musical brew with a little bit o’ soul and some old-school rhythm & blues. The scrappy acoustic Delta blues influences from which the band takes its name are still obvious and ever-present, as are Gray and Johnson’s well-written and whip-smart lyrics, but in expanding their musical palette, if only a little, they open new doors of possibility for the band in the future.
Delta Moon’s Black Cat Oil
A big drumbeat and locomotive rhythm opens “Down and Dirty,” a working-class tale of romantic woe featuring Gray’s slinky guitar lines and gruff vocals. The backing accompaniment is sparse, but the guitars are layered in thickly and offer a bit of swampy malevolence not unlike John Campbell’s trademark haunted blues sound. “Blues In A Bottle” is equally Mississippi muddy and kudzu-clad, with a smoky buzz ‘n’ rattle emanating from Gray’s six-string drone. Lyrically, the song is a clever but deceptively simple construct, but the emotion swells as violently as the song’s jarring fretwork, the instrumental break three-minutes in shattering the trancelike quality of the performance as Gray and Mark Johnson swap fiery guitar licks.
The album’s title track veers off only slightly from the first four, mixing up the previous swamp-blues ambiance with a little Memphis soul and a minimalist funk groove courtesy drummer Darren Stanley and bassist Franher Joseph. Gray’s solos here shine brightly, taut and wiry like a rockabilly king from the 1950s, reminding more of Jimmie Vaughan’s hot licks than Stevie Ray’s incendiary riffs. The song is low-slung and greasy, spiced up a bit by Gray’s Booker T-styled keyboard notes. The romantic turmoil continues with the story-song “Wishbone,” a gripping narrative where Gray’s gravel-throated vocals hypnotize, riding high above his barbed-wire guitarplay. The following “Black Coffee” picks up on the previous song’s late-night vibe, Gray’s fretwork resonating with bluesy echo on a semi-biographical diary of life on the road. Drummer Marlon Patton lays down a slight rhythmic shuffle as Gray picks out the lonely tune.
Write Me A Few of Your Lines
“Neon Jesus” is the album’s roots-rock heartbeat, the song evincing more of a high lonesome Bakersfield vibe than a Nashville/Music Row commercial ambience. Gray sets his considerable songwriting skills to work on a salvation-seeking, soul-searching hymnal, his yearning vocals backed by jangly guitar and a brassy drumbeat. It’s an introspective number, something you’d expect from, say, a Guy Clark type of scribe, but Gray pulls it off admirably. The lively “Jukin’,” by contrast, is a jaunty lil’ houserocker with an undeniable spirit and spry fretwork that blends the best of both juke-joint and honky-tonk traditions with a sly groove and a barely-subdued performance.
“Applejack” sounds a lot like Memphis to me, or a James Dickinson sort of bluesy, blue-eyed soul to be more specific, a fluid groove rolling out beneath Gray’s deep-fried vocals and Southern rock guitar that draws upon Duane Allman (reckless R&B) and Marshall Tucker Band’s Toy Caldwell (Dixie jazz-rock) but with plenty of Gray’s own unique vocabulary thrown in to mark him as a vastly-underrated stylist in his own right. The album’s lone cover, of Mississippi Fred McDowell’s “Write Me A Few Of Your Lines,” bolsters this guitar argument, Gray’s fretwork crackling and popping like a downed electric line above Patton’s steady drumbeats, the singer capturing, and building upon the hypnotic North Mississippi Hill Country riffing style that McDowell passed on to R.L. Burnside and, by association, Luther Dickinson, Jack White, the Black Keys, and a generation of contemporary blues-rock players.
The Reverend’s Bottom Line
Tom Gray’s songwriting skills have never been at question, and he excels at the sort of lyrical and melodic stories told by the songs on Black Cat Oil. Small-town life and romances, the rigors of the road, the old South slipping beneath the steamroller of modern life – these are all grist for Gray (and Johnson’s) wandering pen. Musically, the album builds upon past triumphs, cautiously fusing the band’s trademark swamp-blues sound with other significant influences, creating an entertaining and engaging work that honors blues traditions while nodding vigorously towards new musical horizons. (Red Parlor Records, released May 22, 2012)
Let’s be as honest as churchmice here, shall we? The corpse that once was the Grateful Dead has long since been flayed, flogged, and laid to rest along with the hopes and dreams of so many ‘60s-era flower children. With better than fifty – count ‘em! – fifty live albums on the shelf (many consisting of two or three discs, or more), even the Dead’s long-standing reputation as a great performing outfit that typically underperformed in the studio is questionable in light of the growing body of evidence.
In the annals of hardcore Grateful Dead fans (a/k/a “Deadheads,” which the Reverend’s dictionary defines as “one who has smoked so many flowers as to make their musical judgment suspect), no live performance by the band is more legendary that the Dead’s journey to the sands of Egypt during late 1978 to play three nights in front of the Great Pyramid. Outside of the historical significance of the performances, there’s little here to recommend, however. A two-CD and one-DVD set in a nifty fold-out pop-up package with images of the pyramids, Rocking the Cradle: Egypt 1978 is a document of the band’s experience, but offers little else.
With audio culled from two of the Egyptian nights for the CDs, and video from one night’s concert on the DVD, the band sleepwalks through performances of songs from the upcoming Shakedown Street album along with a few older chestnuts. The usual spark of the Dead’s free-form live performances seems to be missing here, however, and highlights are few and far between. The band gets behind a cover of the New Orleans Cajun classic “Iko Iko,” slowing down the pace to that of a strutting fly-by with a loping groove and a couple of solos full of rich tones. “I Need A Miracle” offers a few hot licks threaded throughout the longform jam, but an obligatory performance of “Truckin’” suffers from a too-mellow vibe, reducing the song’s innate anarchic spirit to a hearty bassline and rushed vocals. Sadly, much of the rest of the album’s 18 tracks (and their DVD doppelgangers) are entirely somnambulant.
Don’t get me wrong here folks, and please don’t deluge Blurt editor Fred with barrels of hate mail – the Reverend simply adores GD albums like Workingman’s Dead, American Beauty, Blues For Allah, even In the Dark – but methinks that you should spend your lunch money on one of those stellar efforts rather than waste your hard-earned coin on this snoozefest. You’ll thank me later… (Rhino Records, released September 30th, 2008)
For a teenaged music fanatic, Nashville in the early ‘70s was a magical place.
As a high schooler who looked just “adult” enough to sneak into bars and clubs
like The Villager, Sam’s Pizza Place, and the Exit In, I witnessed performers
like Guy Clark, Jimmy Buffett, Townes Van Zandt, Waylon Jennings, and David
Allan Coe honing their craft on stage.
Flash forward a couple of
decades when, as a grizzled local music critic, I found a similar magic in the
Nashville rock scene of the early ‘90s. Artists as talented as Tommy Womack,
Will Kimbrough, and Will Owsley, among many others, hit many of the same stages
as their forebears, as well as a few new clubs, trying to forge a career in the
“Music City.” Of all of these young talents, none burned hotter or shined
brighter than singer/songwriter
Todd Snider.
Snider passed away this week at the age of 59 after a bout with
pneumonia. He’d suffered through a rough couple of weeks that would likely have
been fodder for one of his brilliantly insightful story-songs: assaulted outside
of a club before a performance in Salt Lake City, Snider ended up in the
hospital. After being treated for his injuries, Snider thought that his release
was premature and got into an argument with hospital staff. Police were called,
and Snider was arrested and charged with disorderly conduct, threat of violence,
and suspicion of criminal trespassing.
He was released from custody on his own recognizance earlier the following
morning, and the rest of his remaining tour dates were canceled. Returning home
to Tennessee to rest and recuperate, Snider fell ill with undiagnosed walking
pneumonia, and landed in the hospital where things took a turn for the worse.
Snider had been touring in support of his critically-acclaimed 15th album, the
bluesy High, Lonesome, and Then Some, which had been released in
September on his own Aimless Records label.
Snider was born and
raised in 1966 in the Portland, Oregon area and attended college for a semester
in Santa Rosa, California. He moved to San Marcos, Texas near San Antonio in
1985. It was there that he’d have a life-changing epiphany after seeing the
legendary country outlaw Jerry Jeff Walker perform at a local club. Despite not
knowing how to play a guitar, or even owning one, Snider decided then and there
to become a songwriter. He began penning his wry original tunes, and playing
writer’s nights at local clubs while developing his sound.
Finding an
invaluable mentor in San Marcos club owner Kent Finlay, Snider was introduced to
the work of songwriters like Guy Clark, Shel Silverstein, and his future boss,
John Prine. Snider began to develop a following in San Antonio and Austin clubs
and eventually came to the attention of Memphis musician and songwriter Keith
Sykes, a member of Jimmy Buffett’s Coral Reefer Band. Sykes convinced Snider to
move to Memphis, where he took up a residence at The Daily Planet club and
quickly built a loyal following as he continued to crank out songs.
After a development deal with Capitol Records in Nashville fell through (the
label likely didn’t know how to promote Snider’s quirky, unique material), Sykes
approached Buffett, his former boss, and managed to get Snider a deal with
Buffett’s Margaritaville Records label, which was then distributed by MCA. The
label released Snider’s 1994 debut album, Songs From the Daily Planet,
comprised largely of material Snider had performed at the Memphis club. The
album resulted in a minor hit with a ‘hidden track’, “Talking Seattle Grunge
Rock Blues,” while humorous tracks like “My Generation (Part 2)” and “Alright
Guy” received widespread national airplay on the syndicated Bob & Tom radio
show.
More than a mere novelty act, Snider was capable of writing
powerful, emotion-inducing songs like Daily Planet’s “I Spoke As A Child”
and “You Think You Know Somebody.” Sales were good enough to prompt a follow-up,
and Snider’s sophomore effort, Step Right Up, was released in 1996 with
Viva Satellite arriving in 1998. Snider had issues with his label,
however, as Margaritaville left MCA before the release of Viva Satellite,
and the major label retained the rights to Snider’s work. As was typical of the
MCA at the time, they subsequently released Snider from his contract after they
under-promoted the album.
Quickly bouncing back, Snider signed with
Nashville singer/songwriter John Prine’s independent Oh Boy Records label, where
he’d do the best work of his career. He released his fourth album,
Happy To Be Here, in 2000 with studio contributions from Nashville
talents like guitarists Will Kimbrough and Pat Buchanan, NRBQ bassist Joey
Spampinato, and multi-instrumentalist Peter Holsapple (The dB’s, R.E.M.). The
R.S. Field-produced New Connection was released in 2002, followed a year
later by Snider’s first live album, Near Truths and Hotel Rooms,
featuring Snider, his guitar and harmonica, and a guitar case full of
stories.
Snider’s fourth and final album for Oh Boy was 2004’s classic
East Nashville Skyline, arguably the singer/songwriter’s best work.
Recorded with friend and bandmate Will Kimbrough and a studio full of talented
young Nashville studio hotshots, East Nashville Skyline offered up
finely-crafted, intelligent story-songs like “Play A Train Song,” “The Ballad of
the Kingsmen,” and the wickedly-funny, autobiographical “Tillamook County Jail.”
After East Nashville Skyline, Snider took a jump towards the major
leagues, signing with the Universal Music-distributed New Door Records.
Snider
recorded just one album for New Door, working again with Kimbrough, who
co-produced 2006’s The Devil You Know, with another friend, Tommy Womack,
adding guitar to the album. Although critically-acclaimed, and a damn fine
album, New Door didn’t have the resources to properly promote
The Devil You Know. A solo Snider performance at Grimey’s Music in
Nashville was recorded and released by New Door in 2007 as
Live With the Devil You Know At Grimey’s Nashville, which would mark the
end of the singer/songwriter’s tenure with New Door.
Launching his
own independent Aimless Records label with the 2008 EP Peace Queer,
Snider recorded a one-off album for Yep Roc Records – the Don Was-produced
The Excitement Plan – before returning to his own imprint with laudable
efforts like 2011’s double-CD Live (The Storyteller), which positioned
Snider as a stoner sage to the left of Will Rogers, 2012’s acclaimed
Agnostic Hymns and Stoner Fables and the same year’s
Time As We Know It, a tribute to Snider’s original musical inspiration,
Jerry Jeff Walker. Through the years, Snider has also contributed performances
to several tribute albums for such personal heroes as Billy Joe Shaver (whose
son Eddy played in one of Snider’s early bands), Kris Kristofferson, Peter Case,
and Kinky Friedman.
Hooking up with Widespread Panic bassist Dave Schools, Snider formed a jam
band “supergroup” in the Hard Working Americans in 2013, adding the late Neal
Casal (The Cardinals) on guitar and Duane Trucks (guitarist Derek Trucks’
younger brother) on drums. The Hard Working Americans released a pair of
studio albums in 2014 and 2016 as well as a pair of live albums, the first of
which – The First Waltz – included a full-length documentary film about
the Americans directed by Justin Kreutzmann. The group has since recorded a
yet-to-be-released album of material written by Snider.
A
charismatic and charming performer, Snider was seemingly made for TV, and he
performed on all of the late-night talk shows of the ‘90s and early 2000s,
including Late Night with Conan O’Brien,
Late Show with David Letterman, and
The Tonight Show with Jay Leno as well as several music-oriented
programs like ABC’s In Concert and Austin City Limits. Snider
released his sorta, kinda memoirs,
I Never Met A Story I Didn’t Like: Mostly True Tall Tales, in 2014 and
contributed a chapter on his mentor, Cheatham Street Warehouse club owner Kent
Finlay, for a 2016 book on the musical entrepreneur’s life.
Over
the years, Snider co-wrote songs with a number of Nashville talents, including
his frequent musical partners Will Kimbrough and Tommy Womack, as well as
Keith Sykes, Billy Joe Shaver, Jason Ringenberg (Jason & the Scorchers),
Dan Baird (The Georgia Satellites), and Gary Bennett (BR-549) and had songs
recorded by country artists like Jerry Jeff Walker, Cross Canadian Ragweed,
Robert Earl Keen, and even legendary ‘60s hitmaker Tom Jones.
The Hard Working Americans (Todd second from right)
Snider’s eclectic and personable songwriting and performing style isn’t
everybody’s cuppa. He’s brutally sincere and speaks openly about his battle
with substance abuse. His humorous and often-times satirical songs reveal
something of the human condition at the core while his more serious fare is
emotionally-charged and thoughtful. Snider was too often categorized as a
“novelty” act because he infused his folkish story-songs with humor and wit,
reducing funny-cause-they-could-be-true songs like “Beer Run” or the satirical
“Talking Seattle Grunge Rock Blues” to comedic status without recognizing the
skill it took to weave these tales.
In my 2004 review of Snider’s
East Nashville Skyline, I boldly wrote that “considering Snider’s
entire oeuvre (and I have heard it all), it’s time, perhaps, for a bit of rock
critic heresy: Snider is this generation’s Dylan. Snider’s rootsy blend of
rock, folk, blues, and country echoes that of rock’s greatest scribe.” I stand
by my words, and Snider has done little in 20+ years to make me reconsider. A
talented and vastly underrated singer, songwriter, and performer, the recent
release of High, Lonesome, and Then Some proves that Snider still had
something to say and songs to write.
As news of Snider’s death
reverberated throughout the Nashville music scene and beyond, tributes poured
in and stories were shared by many of his friends and musical collaborators.
Former Georgia Satellites frontman Dan Baird wrote “whether you knew him or
not, the fact is our world has lost a true creative ball of cosmic chaos.”
Producer and musician Eric Ambel (of the Yayhoos and the Del Lords) wrote
“thank you for the beautiful songs and stories and for championing so many
wonderful artists while you were here with us.”
Former Snider band
member and frequent musical collaborator Tommy Womack wrote in his tribute for
The Nashvillian, “Todd Snider was the most naturally talented person
I’ve ever met. I first saw that from looking at his face while he performed.
Later, I saw it while looking at his keister as a member of his band. He could
have coasted on that talent, but Todd never coasted. About anything. He was
either driving 200 mph or he was in the pit bay being lectured to by doctors
who thought they were dealing with some sort of mere mortal.”
Smilin’
Jay McDowell of the country band BR-549 remembers “I moved to East Nashville
in 1994. It was purely because it was the cheap part of town. There were very
few restaurants or bars. So, you crossed paths with people regularly. It
seemed every time I turned around, there was Todd. He never said hi, he just
always said, “B R 5 4 9” in that crazy way of his,” adding “I’m sure gonna
miss that guy.” Peter Holsapple wrote “grateful to have gotten to record with
Todd Snider in 1999. Such a remarkable songwriter, what a terrible
loss.”
Behind the mask that hid Snider’s pain, he had a
(perhaps) accidentally profound take on life, closing East Nashville Skyline
with the poppy “Enjoy Yourself,” reminding his fans to always “enjoy yourself,
it’s later than you think.” Read Tommy Womack’s full tribute to Todd in The Nashvillian
Born in Canada, but raised in America, singer/songwriter and self-professed “blues poet” Ray Bonneville considers himself to be a “North American.” The itinerant musician has traveled constantly throughout the three decades of his career, from Boston to Seattle, from Arkansas to Alaska. Yet, Bonneville will be the first to tell you that no location has been more influential to his music than the city of New Orleans. Listening to Bonneville’s Goin’ By Feel, it’s easy to hear his musical and spiritual connection to the Crescent City.
The Sound of New Orleans
Although New Orleans has a grand tradition in jazz music, the city also has a rich heritage in the blues. After all, the mighty Mississippi River runs south from the Delta, through the city, and into the Gulf of Mexico. Many Delta bluesmen made their way down the river through the years and landed in New Orleans, bringing their country blues style and sound to “The Big Easy,” mixing it up with the city’s native jazz, Cajun, and ragtime styles.
More than anything else, however, the sound of New Orleans is that of rhythm. Most of the city’s music incorporates a distinctive rhythmic pattern of one sort or another, whether it’s the rhythms of a brassy jazz band or Professor Longhair’s raucous piano pounding. Most importantly, however, is the rhythm of slowness…it’s hot in New Orleans in the summertime, and humid, too, and nobody is in a big hurry to get anywhere or do anything. There’s a slower pace to the sounds of New Orleans, one that you grow, as a listener, to appreciate over time.
Ray Bonneville’s Goin’ By Feel
If Ray Bonneville has taken anything in the way of influence from New Orleans, it’s the city’s languid feel. With Goin’ By Feel, Bonneville’s sixth album, the singer and producer Gurf Morlix have managed to capture the sound of kudzu growing and cypress creaking. The songs here are saltwater-drenched, with an undeniable bluesy vibe that is reinforced by Bonneville’s soulful, gruff vocals and rich six-string pickin’. This is music as atmospheric as the fog on a Louisiana swamp at daybreak, and performed with a casual, laid-back style that is in no hurry towards its destination.
Bonneville is a natural-born storyteller, and beneath the gorgeous music on Goin’ By Feel is a raft of brilliant story-songs. An erudite songwriter with one foot in the South’s literary tradition and the other firmly planted in the narrative style of the blues, Bonneville conjures up characters and situations out of whole cloth with his vivid imagery and finely-crafted use of the language. His lyrics, when combined with the wide, loping groove of the music, create an almost fictional sense of space.
Not that Bonneville is afraid to ramp it up a bit when necessary. “What Katy Did” builds on spry rhythms with quick, dark-hued vocals and sparse, elegant fretwork. A love letter, of sorts, to New Orleans, “I Am the Big Easy” offers clever lyrics that tie together the city’s cultural wealth with the tragedy of Hurrican Katrina. By contrast, the stark “Carry the Fallen,” is a brilliant anti-war song that lyrically brings home the cost of the war in human terms.
The Reverend’s Bottom Line
A gifted songwriter and skilled guitarist, Ray Bonneville brings the expansive worldview created by his travels to every word he writes and each note he plays. Incorporating elements of folk, country, soul, and blues into his distinctive sound, Bonneville weaves pure magic here with his intricate story-songs. Goin’ By Feel is a thoughtful, intelligent work of immense beauty, sincerity, and honesty. This isn’t your usual blues music, but then Ray Bonneville isn’t your average blues musician, either. (Red House Records, released April 16th, 2007)
One of the true overlooked treasures of American roots music, songwriter Bill Neely toiled away in obscurity for decades, performing a distinctive style of “hillbilly blues” that incorporates country, blues, and folk traditions in creating an entirely unique sound. The son of a Texas sharecropper, Neely came to music through the influence of his mother, a Nashville native who played guitar, piano and accordion. It was a meeting with the legendary Jimmie Rodgers, however, that sealed Neely’s fate. The famous “Blue Yodeler” taught the youngster how to make a C chord on the guitar, a story retold by Neely’s with his classic song “On A Blackland Farm.”
Bill Neely’s Texas Law & Justice
Quitting school at the tender age of fourteen, Neely wandered the country, riding the rails and making money where he could. He worked the mines and the fields, spent time in the Army during WWII and the Korean War, later working as a cook and as a carpenter. Twenty years later, Neely settled down in Texas with a family and a trade, writing songs based on his experience and travels. During the 1960s, he became part of Austin’s early music scene, playing in local clubs both solo and with folks like Janis Joplin, Tracy Nelson, and the great Mance Lipscomb. When Neely died in 1990 of leukemia at the age of 74, he had been playing guitar for 60 years and writing his own songs for over 40 years. Yet Neely only recorded one album, On A Blackland Farm, reissued here on CD with several “bonus” tracks as Texas Law & Justice.
All of this background on Neely is necessary to understand the man who crafted the honest and authentic music preserved on disc by Texas Law & Justice. While great country blues artists like Mississippi Fred McDowell and Lightnin’ Hopkins enjoyed significant careers late in life, Neely remained largely unknown during the same time period. Yet I can hear echoes of Neely’s distinctive guitar style and lyrical abilities in such Texas troubadours as Townes Van Zandt and Guy Clark, acclaimed masters of the form. Songs like “A Soldier’s Thoughts” and “Crying the Blues Over You” are masterpieces of hillbilly blues, while the vivid imagery of “Skid Row” underlines an intelligent tale of rural innocence lost in the big city.
“Satan’s Burning Hell” is a gospel-tinged gem and “Blues On Ellem” is a Texas-style blues tune. “Never Left the Lone Star State” is a wonderful road trip through Neely’s memories while the two instrumentals included on Texas Law & Justice are inspired raves that showcase Neely’s not inconsiderable six-string skills. The one song here not written by Neely, but rather penned by a relative in 1930 – the haunting title cut “Texas Law And Justice” – is performed with great passion and energy and is all the more chilling considering the state’s dismal record of state-sanctioned executions.
The Reverend’s Bottom Line
Too raw and realistic by today’s country music standards, Bill Neely nevertheless wrote songs of enduring life and spirit, infusing them with humor and tempered by years of hard-won experience. Artistically, I’d rank Neely as the equivalent of great bluesmen like Mississippi John Hurt and Big Bill Broonzy. That Neely’s talents remain a secret is an artistic crime, one that might be remedied by the CD release of Texas Law & Justice. With a sound that would appeal to fans of both country blues and alt-country music, Bill Neely is ripe for rediscovery. (Arhoolie Records, released 2001)
Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™ zine
Austin, Texas has been the breeding ground of instrumental outlaws and various cosmic cowboys for nigh onto a decade now, ever since the city’s identification as a musical mecca in the early ‘70s. The current class of artists reaching for that ever-elusive brass ring includes such talents as Zeitgeist and True Believers, a band whose self-titled vinyl bow is sure to create unparalleled aural excitement in the uninitiated.
True Believers offers up an energetic blend of roadhouse blues, country-honk, and guitar band histrionics (the Believers featuring not one, not two, but THREE competent axemen!). There’s not a dull moment to be found within these grooves, with this writer’s personal faves, the melodic cover of “Rebel Kind” and the lyrically-haunting original “The Rain Won’t Help You When It’s Over” representative of the depth of talent to be found in True Believers. The band’s sincerity, the intensity of their music, and their sense of roots proves that rock ‘n’ roll lives outside of London or Los Angeles. (EMI America, released 1986) Review originally published by Nashville’s The Metro magazine...
With the release of Frenzy, Mojo Nixon insures his place among the pantheon of great rock eccentrics, among such strange stalwarts as Frank Zapa, Lord Buckley, and Captain Beefheart. Mojo and his sideman Skid Roper can best be described as musical minimalists, mutant madmen who swap washboard licks with demented guitar riffs and a little wild mouth harp now and then as Mojo runs amok through a musical menu that includes inspired covers of Alice Cooper’s “Be My Lover” and an amazing one-and-a-half-minute version of Iron Butterfly’s psychedelic classic, “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida.”
Mojo’s original material is not for the weak of heart, showcasing his fervor and passion on such songs as “The Amazing Bigfoot Diet,” a good-natured swipe at those tabloids found in supermarket check-out lines; “Stuffin’ Martha’s Muffin,” a scatological anti-MTV protest song which reveals Mojo’s hidden lust for veejay Martha Quinn; and the hero worship of “The Ballad of Wendell Scott.” All totaled, Frenzy delivers over a dozen of Mojo’s finest creations, a musical blend of talking blues, roots-rock, and incredible insanity, counting among his influences artists as diverse as Howlin’ Wolf, John Lee Hooker, Lou Reed, and Iggy Pop. Mojo Nixon is a true social iconoclast.
For those of you who can’t get enough of the right Reverend Mojo Nixon and his ‘Screamin’ Church of the Epileptic Jesus, his first LP – Free, Drunk & Horny – features such classic tunes as “Jesus At McDonald’s,” “Moanin’ With Yer Mama,” and “I’m In Love With Your Girlfriend” and is also available from Enigma Records. (Enigma Records, released 1986)
Review originally published by Nashville’s The Metro magazine...
The “Rock ‘n’ Roll Farm Report” was a short-lived review column that ran on our Alt.Culture.Guide™ website for almost a year until we closed the site, not due to lack of readers, but from lack of time and money to continue the project. Still, as these columns show, we reviewed a diverse range of music...
CITIES – Cities “Post-punk revival” is all the rage these days, thirty-something critics auditioning for Pitchfork writing gigs fawning over bands like Interpol or the Walkmen in an effort to relive their misspent youths and assure their continued relevance. Bullocks! The Reverend is a crusty old rockcrit of the Marsh/Bangs/Johnson persuasion, and all the adjectives you can remember from grad school notwithstanding, an album either rocks or it doesn’t. Besides, “post-punk” as a description is mostly a lazy attempt by lesser minds to categorize music that refuses to be pigeonholed. Case in point: North Carolina’s Cities. With the “post-punk revival” albatross neatly hung around their neck, the band’s solid debut disc has mostly been dismissed in favor of more “acceptable,” i.e. New York based noisemakers. ‘Tis their loss, however, the self-titled Cities a mind-tickling collection of fuzzy lyrics and fuzzier sound, each song filled with guitars that ring like Quasimodo’s fabled bell and buzz like a mix of Husker Du and Radiohead. Yes, Cities filters its ‘80s-styled college-rock personality against a new millennium soundtrack, and although the melodies are sharp, the album’s production is a bit more blunt than need be. Nevertheless, Cities the album shows the promise of a band that has its feet on the ground and just needs to reach a little higher to hit the stars. (Yep Roc Records)
GOOD RIDDANCE – My Republic Better than a decade down the road, straight-edge punks Good Riddance sound as hot-and-bothered on their seventh album as they ever have. Part of this can be attributed to former drum-kit mauler Sean Sellers returning to the fold after a lengthy hiatus. The other aspect that keeps Good Riddance young and grounded in an honest punk aesthetic is frontman/songwriter Russ Rankin, as proper a ranter-and-venter of left-wing political polemics as you’re likely to find. Rankin’s intelligent and carefully considered lyrical broadsides are matched with a pure white light/white heat musical assault, the band kicking it old school with a renewed fury and self-righteous anger at the powers that be. Usually overshadowed by more loudly militant bands like Anti-Flag or trendier faves like Against Me!, Good Riddance nevertheless remain one of the best political bands on the punk rock landscape. My Republic is an essential release, a sterling example of punk at its relevant best. Plus, these jams will knock the plaster from your walls and shake the cobwebs from your brain! (Fat Wreck Chords)
GREG GRAFFIN – Cold As the Clay The Reverend has always admired Bad Religion frontman Greg Graffin for his unyielding intelligence, machine-gun vocal delivery and refusal to “dumb down” the band’s songs for a mass market mindset. It comes as little surprise, then, that Graffin’s Cold As the Clay should attempt to teach a punk audience about the charms and wit of “old-time music.” This sort of musical exercise is to be expected from, say, Bruce Springsteen, but it’s an extremely punk rock thing to do for a hardcore legend like Graffin to throw aside fan’s expectations in an effort to make an honest artistic statement. Cold As the Clay succeeds both as an opportunity for Graffin to apply his songwriting talents to a drastically different musical format, and as a showcase for his soulful, vastly underrated vocal abilities. Mixing traditional folk and country songs with inspired originals, Graffin’s delivery is supported by solid, appropriately understated performances by a talented group of sympathetic musicians. Bandmate/producer Brett Gurewitz also shows an unexpectedly deft hand in capturing these performances. If one goes into Cold As the Clay expecting the sort of blistering punk rock that Graffin delivers with his full-time band, you’ll be sorely disappointed. However, if you open your ears and free your mind, you’ll find a collection every bit as powerful as anything Bad Religion has ever recorded, music with roots deep in the earth and a history as ancient as mankind. Somewhere, Dave Van Ronk is smiling down on us all… (Anti- Records)
THE GOURDS – Heavy Ornamentals This Austin, Texas bunch of ne’er-do-wells has been kicking around for almost a decade now and Heavy Ornamentals, the band’s eighth album, displays everything there is to like about the Gourds. Chock full of irreverent humor, pop culture references and whip-smart lyrics, you might think that the Gourds are a little too, well, “intelligent” for the room. These boys temper their smart-aleck intellectual leanings with a lean-n-mean mix of roots rock, trad-country, folky witticisms and blues flavor, all delivered with the mastery of a band that has spent many nights on the road. All of which means that the Gourds are equally at home ripping through a honky-tonk rave-up like “Shake The Chandelier,” a Byrdsian rocker like “Decline-O-Meter,” or a poetic weeper like “Our Patriarch.” Consistently entertaining and as unique as the band that created it, Heavy Ornamentals is more soulful than anything you’re likely to hear from Nashville’s Music Row this year. (Eleven Thirty Records)
JUNGLE ROT – War Zone Let’s go ahead and say it – War Zone is every bit as valid a creative statement as the latest Conor Oberst snoozefest, rockcrit bias against “extreme” music be damned! Pursuing an American (as opposed to Scandinavian) death metal style that uses bands like Sodom or Death as their blueprint, Jungle Rot’s fifth album in eleven years lyrically tackles the violence, brutality and inhumanity of man’s crusades with a stark brilliance and dark poetry. Behind the band’s disturbing, intelligent lyrics, however, lies a soundtrack as explosive, dangerous and powerful as anything you’ll find in extreme metal. Frontman Dave Matrise’s vocals are more intelligible, and thus accessible, than most metal growlers, and guitarist Geoff Bub attacks his axe with a zeal that’s downright scary. Bassist James Genenz provides the anchor that keeps the entire thing from flights of fancy while Neil Zacharek is that rare find, a drummer with muscular chops that enhance, rather than bludgeon, each song to its demise. Not to say that Jungle Rot will be pitching songs for The O.C. any time soon, but War Zone delivers a real ass-kicking, one that metal fans should ignore at their own peril. (Crash Music)
RAINBOW – Live In Munich 1977 Featuring the best version of Ritchie Blackmore’s Rainbow, the one with Dio belting out the tunes and bassist Bob Daisley and drummer Cozy Powell backing the maestro, Live In Munich 1977 is the live Rainbow album fans have long desired. Touring in support of the sub-par On Stage live album, Rainbow was mixing songs from its now-legendary first two albums with material from the yet-to-be-released Dio swansong Long Live Rock ‘n’ Roll. The performances captured on this budget-priced two-CD set are simply brilliant, Blackmore’s incendiary six-string work matched by, perhaps, the best one-two rhythmic punch in the metal world in Daisley and Powell. Featuring eight songs stretched to the 90-minute breaking point by extended jams, Dio’s soaring vocals and mind-numbing feats of instrumental prowess that would write the book for ‘80s British heavy metal, Live In Munich 1977 rocks with reckless abandon. Younger fans that never got to witness Blackmore and his wrecking crew firsthand can revel in live versions of “Sixteenth Century Greensleeves,” “Catch the Rainbow” and “Man On the Silver Mountain” that leave scorched earth in their wake. For those of us that were there, Live In Munich 1977 revives some long-forgotten rock ‘n’ roll memories… (Eagle Records)
July 2006 The “Rock ‘n’ Roll Farm Report” was a short-lived review column that ran on our Alt.Culture.Guide™ website for almost a year until we closed the site, not due to lack of readers, but from lack of time and money to continue the project. Still, as these columns show, we reviewed a diverse range of music...
DAVE ALVIN – West of the West It’s a pretty cool idea, really, roots-rocker Dave Alvin delivering an inspired concept album of songs written exclusively by California scribes. Of course, Alvin knew that he was hedging his bet to begin with – when you’re drawing from a roster as deep and talented as that of West Coast songwriters, how could you go wrong? West of the West offers up Alvin’s take on a baker’s dozen of Cali’s best, songs from both well-known wordmongers like Jackson Browne, Brian Wilson, and Tom Waits to lesser-known-but-equally-talented folks like Kate Wolf, Jim Ringer and, well, Dave Alvin. Alvin’s warm, friendly vocals seldom overshadow the lyrics, and the band reinvents these tunes with subtlety and loose-limbed elan. So, whether it’s Browne’s “Redneck Friend,” John Fogerty’s “Don’t Look Now,” Merle Haggard’s wonderful “Kern River” or Blackie Ferrell’s “Sonora’s Death Row,” Alvin does an admirable job of honoring his home state’s rich musical heritage with his finest collection of Americana yet. (Yep Roc Records)
HAMELL ON TRIAL – Songs For Parents Who Enjoy Drugs Pursuing an original, unique folk-rock style that positively bristles with punk energy and attitude, singer/songwriter Ed Hamell has what Frank Zappa once called “no commercial potential.” A self-proclaimed loudmouth with leftist tendencies, Hamell has never shied away from confrontation, both with himself and the powers that be. Songs For Parents Who Enjoy Drugs, Hamell’s sixth studio effort, finds the songwriter’s observations as keen and as deadly as ever. “Inquiring Minds,” a conversation between father and son, is spot-on – funny and smart and all-too-true-to-life for many of us of the “lost generation” between the boomers and Gen X, while “Values” reveals the child’s innocent wisdom. Hamell likes to tease the bear at least once per album and “Coulter’s Snatch” takes the fight to the conservative right’s reigning bottle-blonde pin-up queen. The artist’s story-songs are generally populated by the junkies, dealers, whores, and petty criminals that exist on the fringes of polite society, and most songs eschew political correctness in favor of sex, drugs, or political binges. Aided and abetted by producer and fellow traveler Ani DiFranco, Ed Hamell is anything but polite, the raucous wordsmith swinging wildly at his targets like a punch-drunk pugilist, connecting with the knock-out blow more often than not. (Righteous Babe Records)
REBEL MEETS REBEL – Rebel Meets Rebel The senseless death of metal giant “Dimebag” Darrell is all the more tragic considering that the talented guitarist had a lot of music left to share. The best example of this is Rebel Meets Rebel, a collaborative effort between Dimebag, his brother Vinnie Paul, and outlaw country legend David Allen Coe. Growing up in Texas, the brothers were huge fans of Coe’s music, and somewhere along the Pantera/Damageplan road-to-ruin they had the pleasure of meeting their longtime idol. As musicians are often want to do, they agreed that they should get together sometime and write some songs. Mind you, these informal agreements seldom bear musical fruit, but in the case of these three madmen, they created the metallic twangfest that they called “Rebel Meets Rebel.” With Coe supplying vocals and lyrics in front of a band that includes brother Vinnie blistering the skins, Dimebag delivering his typical scorched-earth six-string pyrotechnics and bassist Rex Brown holding down the bottom end, these songs kick serious ass! An unlikely mix of honky-tonk country, Southern-fried funk and uber shred-metal, this bastard hybrid actually works! The album’s inspired instrumentation reveals previously unseen facets of Darrell’s talents, the hard-rocking results both breathtaking and invigorating. This is muscular music that takes the best of its myriad influences and proceeds to knock down the house with a sonic fury, creating a fitting epitaph to the amazing career of the one-and-only Dimebag Darrell. R.I.P. (rock in peace) big guy! (Big Vin Records)
THE SOCIALLY RETARDED – As One Voice Punk rock has become a fragile thing, as overrun with poseurs as any other genre. It’s all grubby guys in torn jeans and weird haircuts trying to score chicks and a major label deal, fighting in vain to keep their “street cred” while pursuing a musical vision that is long on radio-friendly pop melodies and short on bone-crunching, three-chord riffery. Not so with T.S.R. – The Socially Retarded are a throwback to the gabba gabba heyday of the Ramones and the sturm-und-drang of the Clash. No mindless cretins, these ‘tards, but rather a ‘nad-knocking, eardrum-jarring trio of teen punk diehards delivering some tasty tunes with socially conscious lyrics and a blur of ripping leads and crashing rhythms. As One Voice may be short, clocking in at a mere 30 minutes, but it’s street-tuff and hits as hard as the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse playing the girl next door’s birthday party. Guitarist Ryan Reyes has a great punk voice, throaty and passionately spitting out lyrics, while bassist Aaron Chaney and drummer Matt Garcia stir up their monster rhythms with something more adventuresome than your typical punk-rawk clickbeat. It’s all the more amazing that these guys are still in high school, ‘cause they’ve got a better grasp on their music than a lot of older, more established bands. T.S.R. remind me a lot of the old SST label bands, and that’s a high compliment. As One Voice scores on my charts as one of the best punk albums you’ll hear this year. The Rev sez “check it out!” (Mental Records)
VARIOUS ARTISTS – Hopelessly Devoted To You, Vol. 6 Epitaph Records may get all the press, and Victory Records gets all the chart action, but while many indie labels have inched closer and closer to the mainstream, Hopeless Records and its sister label, Sub City, have kept the flame alive for punk and underground rock. As is the custom with many indie labels, Hopeless has used low-priced compilations as a way to introduce potential fans to the label’s bands, and the sixth volume of their popular Hopelessly Devoted To You series is their biggest and baddest set yet. Imagine two CDs, packed with three-dozen songs, complimented by a bonus DVD featuring music videos from better than two-dozen bands…all for less than a sixer of fancy imported brew! Disc one features music from new/recent Hopeless/Sub City releases from bands like Against All Authority, Kaddisfly, All Time Low, and Ever We Fall, including previously unreleased and live tracks from Thrice, Amber Pacific, and Mustard Plug. Disc two revisits the storied history of Hopeless/Sub City, with essential (and oft-times rare) tracks from Guttermouth, the Queers, Against All Authority, Thrice, Avenged Sevenfold, and Dillinger Four, among many others. The bonus DVD includes cheap video thrills from most of the aforementioned bands as well as Scared of Chaka, the Weakerthans, and 88 Fingers Louie. It’s altogether a very cool package, lots of rocking audio and video for very little money, so what the hell are you waiting for? Go get it already! (Hopeless Records)
JEFF WATSON – Now Hear This One The Reverend was never much of a Night Ranger fan back in the day. They were too commercial, too polished to be of real interest, much less to hold my attention beyond the opening chords of “Sister Christian.” Don’t hold his stint in Night Ranger against Jeff Watson, though – any guitarist that releases an album on Mike Varney’s Shrapnel Records label is OK in my book. Judging from the tunes on Now Hear This One, Watson’s new “digital only” release on Universal’s UMe Digital label, there’s more going on here than meets the eye. Freed from the constraints of a purely commercial release, Watson has allowed his six-string muse to explore various styles of playing and musical genres on Now Hear This One, and the results are simply intoxicating. It helps Watson’s cause that he weaves intricate, hypnotic ‘60s-inspired jams like “Moment of Truth,” sounding like Quicksilver Messenger Service’s best psychedelic moments, or that he waxes ecstatic with muscular tracks like “Wander Lust” or “Simple Man.” Both songs would sound too cool on rock radio if such a thing still existed. Now Hear This One is a fine album for fans of rock guitar, AOR, and ‘60s-styled musical experimentation that you just can’t get anywhere else these days. Jeff Watson is an unheralded talent, often overlooked because of his success with Night Ranger. However, even a casual listen to Now Hear This One proves that there’s much more to Watson than his hit songs. You’ll find this one only in cyberspace, on iTunes, and other fine digital download services. (UMe Digital)
I’ve
written here previously
about the musical charms of Preacher Boy (a/k/a Christopher Watkins), a
blues poet of no little talent and a unique perspective that digs deep into the
music’s historical roots and then recreates it with a fresh artistic vision that
belies tradition in creating something vigorously new and interesting.
Ghost Notes is the indie musician’s most ambitious and impressive
achievement to date, released on both CD and double-vinyl with a hefty paperback
tome also available with lyrics, song notes, and photos. It’s the music that
counts, however, and Preacher Boy has never been more compelling or intriguing
than he is on Ghost Notes.
Preacher Boy’s Ghost Notes
Wielding a weathered, whiskey-soaked voice that is equal parts Tom Waits
and Howlin’ Wolf yet easily recognized as Preacher Boy, I picked up on the
Band’s influence on “Up the River” right away (especially since the legendary
Garth Hudson had just passed away and was on my mind). Sporting a strong
rhythm but laid-back vibe, “Up the River” offers up hazy memories expressed
with poetic charm. “New Red Cedar Blues” is a country-blues song at heart, but
with the same strong Americana roots as anything the Band ever recorded,
Watkins’ mournful vocals accompanied by a riveting guitar line. The
hard-fought knowledge of “Two Birds” is delivered with serpentine guitar and a
Delta blues ferocity, Watkins’ desperate vocals almost drowning beneath the
waves of a hypnotic groove.
The Springsteen influenced “Don’t Know
What To Think Anymore” offers some of Watkins’ most inspired lyrics and
fretwork, obtusely political in the way that all music is a political
statement, whether it be personal or universal. You can’t separate the artist
from their culture, and “Dirty Little Secret” is a blues-rock dirge that
explores the cause and effect of addiction, whether it be substance abuse or
the abuses of power that draws so many like a moth to a flame. The title track
is a beautifully fragile story of lonely desperation, social isolation, and
the compulsion to create that drives nearly every artist, delivered pitch
perfect with trembling vocals and a mournful, almost Baroque soundtrack.
Land of Milk and Honey
The brilliance of “Scene of the Crime” is shrouded in oblique social
commentary fueled by anger and a guitar-driven blues-rock dynamic that
highlights Watkins’ fierce vocals. When lines like “the song of myself, sung
by a fool and performed by a mime/tuned to a bell with a crack in the back
that is still made to chime/by an old bell-ringer, long past his prime/who is
lookin’ for clues at the scene of the crime” are accompanied by crying
harmonica notes, you have to sit up and take notice. Ditto for “See All the
People,” which grieves as passionately as “Scene of the Crime” rages;
pointedly anti-violence, it also addresses the internal suffering of the
killers who commit atrocities against their fellow humans, an aspect of every
mass shooting too dark and inconvenient to be of concern to a society that has
creates these mutants.
As close as Preacher Boy gets to a
‘traditional’ folk song, “No Rivers To Cross” is nevertheless a minimalist
joy, a sort of Southern Gothic tale whose sparse instrumentation still plays
loud below whip smart lyrics like “god or devil, it doesn’t matter/you praise
the former and race the latter” and “down by the river, where the moonlight’s
shattered diamond paints the water white/is where the drunks come to hear the
monks drum/I’ll take you there where all are welcome.” Watkins claims a Tom
Petty influence for “Land of Milk and Honey,” but it you couldn’t prove it by
me, except for perhaps his vocal phrasing, which mildly mimics “Refugee.” The
song displays a ‘60s-styled garage-rock undercurrent that skews closer to Sky
Saxon, with a sorrowful vocal delivery that perfectly showcases the lyrics.
Ghost Notes closes with the beautiful, lilting “Light A Candle,”
written for Watkins’ wife, the considered words offered with emotion and
accompanied by filigree guitarwork that touches your soul.
The Reverend’s Bottom Line
Ghost Notes is the most personal and lyrically revealing work in
Preacher Boy’s lengthy career (I first reviewed his
Devil’s Buttermilk album in 2002 for All Music Guide), a major
work by an Artist who has refused to compromise his musical vision. It’s his
“Americana” album, haunted by influential ghosts like Levon Helm, Townes Van
Zandt, Tom Petty, and Mac Rebennack (a/k/a Dr. John) as well as a few still
corporate souls like Springsteen, Dylan, John Fogerty, and Neil Young while
still managing to sound uniquely original and creatively electrifying.
Watkins poured his heart and soul into the creation of
Ghost Notes, and it shows in the album’s craftsmanship and integrity;
it’s well worth tracking down a copy if you’re a fan of any of the
aforementioned influences. Whether you opt for the CD or the 2x vinyl version
of Ghost Notes, I’d recommend grabbing a copy of Watkins’
Ghost Notes: Songs and Stories as well, the book providing further
insight into the unjustly obscure but nevertheless fascinating talent that is
Preacher Boy. Grade: A+
The late David Olney was a superlative songwriter and a natural storyteller, capable of spinning tales with an imagination the equal of any novelist or poet. A Rhode Island native who landed in Nashville by way of North Carolina and Georgia, Olney and his band the X-Rays were early pioneers of the Music City’s bourgeoning late ‘70s rock scene, recording two albums for Rounder Records. Olney launched a solo career in the mid-‘80s that resulted in better than 30 studio and live albums, his last being 2021’s Whispers and Sighs, a posthumous collaboration with singer/songwriter Anana Kaye. Olney passed away of an apparent heart attack in January 2020 while performing onstage at the 30A Songwriter Festival in Santa Rosa Beach, Florida.
Although Olney never received the commercial returns an artist of his talent deserved, he was well-respected by other artists and songwriters. Musical legends like Emmylou Harris, Steve Earle, Del McCoury, and Linda Rondstadt thought enough of his skills as a wordsmith to record Olney songs like “If My Eyes Were Blind,” “Women Cross the River,” and “Jerusalem Tomorrow” while talents such as John Hiatt, Guy Clark, and Townes Van Zandt considered him a peer. As Olney told me in an interview for my 2012 book The Other Side of Nashville, “I used to be pissed-off about not being more famous. But I got to see the world in an intimate kind of way, and that’s OK.”
Can’t Steal My Fire: The Songs of David Olney
It’s been almost five years since Olney’s death and he’s been provided an honor afforded few of even the most commercially-successful of his contemporaries – a bona fide tribute album. Released by Americana label New West Records, Can’t Steal My Fire: The Songs of David Olney compiles 17 of Olney’s tunes on four sides of vinyl (also available on CD), performed by folks like Steve Earle, Lucinda Williams, Dave Alvin, Mary Gauthier, and Willis Alan Ramsey. Olney makes an appearance himself with the eerie, previously-unreleased “Sonnet #40,” while Executive Producer Gwil Owen, a longtime friend of Olney’s, dug up a vintage, unreleased live recording of Townes Van Zandt performing Olney’s “Illegal Cargo” in 1977 in Chapel Hill NC.
Although Olney is usually pigeonholed as a country or folk artist, as I wrote in my review of his 2014 album When the Deal Goes Down, “much like Van Zandt, Olney brings country and folk influences to his songs, but he also imbues his performances with a punk-rock intensity and attitude.” In truth, Olney brought whatever tool he needed – country, folks, blues, rock – to crafting his songs. Can’t Steal My Fire opens with Lucinda Williams’ take on Olney’s “Deeper Well,” the title track of his 1988 album for Rounder Records. Williams is a kindred spirit, a fellow musical outsider who has tasted fleeting success, and an incredible vocalist. When she sinks her teeth into a performance like she does here on “Deeper Well,” she transforms the song, this time into a powerful Delta blues dirge, her haunting vocals supported by Stuart Mathis’s otherworldly guitar playing. It’s an electrifying reminder of what a singer like Williams can do with an already great song.
By contrast, Olney’s longtime friend Steve Earle applies his own considerable vocal talents to “Sister Angelina,” a standout track from 1992’s Border Crossing album. A folkish ballad with Mexican instrumental flourishes, Earle’s nuanced performance is boosted by Jeff Hill’s engaging and exotic fretwork. It’s a gorgeous song, done right by Earle. The McCrary Sisters – unknown to me before now – take “Voices On the Water,” co-written by Olney with Gwil Owen, and apply a Gospel fervor to their performance, magnifying the lyrics and raising a joyous noise. Buddy Miller doesn’t so much interpret “Jerusalem Tomorrow” as much as he moves in and inhabits the song with a strong spoken/sung performance that focus more on the song than the singer.
David Olney 2019, photo by Scott Housley
If My Eyes Were Blind
The Steeldrivers open side two of Can’t Steal My Fire, bringing a bluegrass fury to “If My Eyes Were Blind,” also from Deeper Well. The band weaves elegant instrumentation around Olney’s poetic lyrics, creating a lush soundscape that perfectly captures Olney’s emotional original. Acclaimed Texas singer/songwriter Willis Alan Ramsey brings a bit of whimsy to his performance of “Women Across the River,” his atmospheric vocals accented by Tammy Rogers’ lovely mandolin and fiddle-play. Louisiana folkie Mary Gauthier brings a minimalist Southern Gothic vibe to “1917,” from 1999’s Through A Glass Darkly. Although she’s accompanied by subtle and subdued instrumentation, her vocals are simply mesmerizing, drawing your focus to the story so that everything else falls away.
Americana legend Jimmie Dale Gilmore kicks of the album’s third side with “If It Wasn’t For the Wind,” a co-write with Joe Fleming from Olney’s first solo LP, 1986’s Eye of the Storm. Gilmore applies his warm, high-lonesome vocals to the winsome ballad, imbuing the song with a dreaminess that is punctuated by Warren Hood’s fiddle and guitarist Rich Brotherton’s lovely guitarplay. Olney collaborated with young singer/songwriter Anana Kaye and her musician husband Irakli Gabriel on Whispers and Sighs and they return the favor with an inspired performance of “Running From Love,” Kaye’s breathless vocals adding an urgent sensuality to the lyrics while guitarist Joe McMahan fiery leads lead the song to blues-rock territory. “That’s My Story,” from one of Olney’s more obscure albums, 1991’s Top To Bottom, is provided a talking blues-styled reading by folkie Greg Brown, who brings a Tom Waits vibe to the offbeat, absurdist story.
Olney’s “Sonnet #40” is equally bizarro, a short, shocking spoken-word vamp with Olney’s studio-altered vocals accompanied by jazzy instrumentation and lyrics that surprise. Afton Wolfe is another artist unfamiliar to these ears, but his high-energy, hard-rockin’ version of “Titanic” is as steely as its namesake’s hull. With gritty vocals driven to madness by McMahan’s metallic fretwork, it’s a dino-stomp in a league with Sabbath or Zeppelin. Dave Alvin digs all the way back to the X-Rays’ 1981 album Contender for “Steal My Thunder,” the Americana pioneer transforming the song into a bluesy roots-rocker with help from the Rick Holmstrom Trio. Jim Lauderdale brings a honky-tonk authenticity to “Delta Blue,” complete with enchanting Dobro and fiddle. The aforementioned Townes Van Zandt performance of “Illegal Cargo” closes out Can’t Steal My Fire. Another great song from Deeper Well, what this 1977 live recording lacks in sonic quality it more than makes up for with pathos and sincerity.
The Reverend’s Bottom Line
I was privileged to have known David Olney, and to have seen him perform a number of times – more than enough to stand in awe of the man and his music. A singular talent, Olney’s skills as a lyrical storyteller are unequalled in popular music, and his ability to perfectly capture the human condition in the unyielding amber of song is his legacy. As shown by the 17 songs on Can’t Steal My Fire, Olney was a hell of a wordsmith, and it’s because his work drew so deeply from the entirety of American music that it is truly timeless and open to endless interpretation. Can’t Steal My Fire provides a wonderful introduction to David Olney, and will motivate more than a few first-time listeners to dig into his rich and varied catalog of music…for which they’ll be suitably rewarded. Grade: A+ (New West Records, released August 27th, 2024)
