The View On Pop Culture: Waylon Jennings, John Hiatt, King Crimson, The Faint (2003)

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Considering Waylon Jennings’ near-mythical status in the pantheon of country stars (ranking up there with Hank, George, Johnny, and Willie), a tribute album was bound to happen sooner or later. Lonesome, On’ry and Mean (Dualtone Records) is a labor of love undertaken by Chuck Meade of the alt-country outfit BR5-39. Meade got together a wide range of talent to pay tribute to Waylon and, for the most part, it works. As with any affair of this type, there are good songs and there are better songs and usually there’s a clunker thrown in to pacify some label exec somewhere.

The good stuff on Lonesome, On’ry and Mean includes Dave Alvin’s “Amanda,” his mournful vocals capturing the bittersweet sorrow of the original. Rocker John Doe’s plays it straight with “Only Daddy That’ll Walk The Line,” with pedal steel and honky-tonk piano and vocals that mimic Jennings’ familiar baritone. Guy Clark’s folksy take on “Good Hearted Woman” is solid, as are performances by Nanci Griffith, Junior Brown, and Allison Moorer. Carlene Carter’s rendition of “I’ve Always Been Crazy” reads true, Carter, perhaps more than any of the other contributors, coming closest to sharing Jennings’ rebellious spirit.

On the other hand, Norah Jones seems to have been included for purely commercial purposes, the young Grammy® winner in over her head trying to interpret a song performed by one of country music’s great interpreters. Ditto for Henry Rollins, whose punk credentials may be unassailable, but his heavy-handed, heavy metal reinvention of the title track does nothing but illustrate his limitations as a vocalist. There’s nothing on Lonesome, On’ry and Mean that will make fans forget about Waylon, but it’s a welcome tribute nonetheless and a lot of fun.

John Hiatt has a loyal following of his own, both as a vastly underrated performer and as a successful songwriter. It’s a sign of the respect the music industry has for a favored wordsmith that It’ll Come To You: The Songs of John Hiatt (Vanguard Records) is the third Hiatt tribute album in recent memory. Unlike the aforementioned Jennings tribute, rather than enlisting artists to contribute songs, It’ll Come To You collects (mostly) previously released tracks, throwing in a trio of new songs to whet the average Hiatt fan’s appetite.

Someone once said that it all begins with a song, and when the material has been penned by an artist as intelligent, talented, and well versed in musical tradition as John Hiatt, it’s no wonder that the hits just keep coming. It’ll Come To You includes Hiatt-written hits by Bonnie Raitt (“Thing Called Love”), Eric Clapton and B.B. King (“Riding With The King”) and Roseanne Cash (“The Way We Make A Broken Heart”). There are some lesser-known gems here, as well, such as Rodney Crowell’s take on “She Loves The Jerk” and a haunting reading of “Icy Blue Heart” by Emmylou Harris.

Among the new songs, Buddy and Julie Miller make “Paper Thin” their own with a rocking rendition while Robert Bradley’s Blackwater Surprise delivers a soulful, blues-tinged performance of the title track. It’ll Come To You also includes strong performances from Buddy Guy, Linda Ronstadt and Patty Griffin, among others. Hiatt’s songs, as influenced by Memphis soul as they are by rock, pop and country music, are American treasures. If you’re unfamiliar with Hiatt’s work, It’ll Come To You is a good place to introduce yourself before running out and buying Beneath This Gruff Exterior, Hiatt’s latest solo effort (coming soon to a column near you).

In almost thirty-five years of sporadic music making, King Crimson has never delivered an uninteresting album. Irritating, perhaps, maddening for sure, but never dull. Such is the case with The Power To Believe (Sanctuary Records), the band’s first studio effort in three years and its most adventuresome recording to date. Working with producer Machine, best known for working with nu-metal artists like Rob Zombie and Pitchshifter, the band that defined progressive rock for a generation takes the music into new territory.

The current Crimson line-up of Robert Fripp, guitarists Adrian Belew and Trey Gunn and percussionist Pat Mastelotto manage to take the scattershot improvisational prog-rock that they cut their teeth on and imbue it with the aggressive vocabulary of nu-metal. The result is an invigorating and unpredictable album, songs like “Level Five” and “Dangerous Curves” creating virtual landscapes of sound and emotion. Other tracks on The Power To Believe, such as “Facts of Life,” blend traditional pop structures with a jazzy cacophony, creating an entirely new genre altogether. Young fans of bands like System of A Down would do well to immerse themselves in The Power To Believe and find out what new tricks the old dogs in King Crimson have up their sleeves.

The Faint is a band of new wave revivalists, genuflecting at the altar of early-80s bands like Soft Cell and Human League. So, here’s a novel idea – let’s take the MTV-inspired synth-pop of the Faint’s critically acclaimed album Danse Macabre and turn the songs over to a bunch of hot producers and DJs to remix. The result is Danse Macabre Remixes (Astralwerks Records), a risky musical adventure that pays off in the end.

With talents such as Thin White Duke, Paul Oakenfold and Junior Sanchez reinventing the Faint’s distinctive sound, Danse Macabre Remixes is a blend of straight-forward dance tracks, avant-garde techno and, in some cases, mere minor tweaking and enhancement of the Faint’s original efforts. My personal favorites include the revved-up Oakenfold take on "Glass Dance," the sparse electro-blues of “Total Job” and the Eno-styled ambiance of “Ballad of A Paralysed Citizen.” Danse Macabre Remixes isn’t for everybody, but if you enjoy a bit of edge to your music and crave a little experimentalism, here it is... (View From The Hill, March 2003)

The View On Pop Culture: Johnny Cash, Andrew Vachss, Waylon Jennings (2002)

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Country legend Johnny Cash recently celebrated his seventieth birthday and, with his health improving, has announced plans for another new album. Like many of Nashville’s old guard, Cash will keep working until he is physically unable to record or perform, and based on his last couple of albums, the Man In Black seems to only get better with age. Columbia Records – Cash’s musical home for over thirty years – is reissuing a number of his classic albums on CD this year, many for the first time. To kick off the celebration, the label has released the excellent The Essential Johnny Cash (Columbia/Legacy) compilation, a historical overview of Cash’s lengthy career.

The two-disc set kicks off with Cash’s early singles for Sun Records, mono jukebox favorites that became big hits during the mid-fifties. “Hey Porter,” “I Walk the Line” and “Ballad of A Teenage Queen” and their B-sides share a youthful energy, even if they only hint at Cash’s incredible charisma. Cash’s early-sixties treasures, songs like “Ring of Fire” and “The Ballad of Ira Hayes,” set the stage for Cash’s commercial peak of 1968-1972 and crossover hits like “Folsom Prison Blues” and “A Boy Named Sue.” From this point, the set is somewhat erratic, overlooking much of Cash’s 80s output, offering highlights like “(Ghost) Riders In the Sky” and “Highwayman,” ending with his 1993 collaboration with U2, “The Wanderer.” Overall, The Essential Johnny Cash provides the listener with a fair representation of Cash’s immense talents. If you’re looking for more, I’d heartily also recommend the expanded versions of At Folsom Prison and At San Quentin, reissued on CD last year.

If a novelist creates one lasting, memorable character in a book, they’ve accomplished more than most writers manage to do during their entire careers. Andrew Vachss has created an entire world revolving around his central character Burke, building a New York City peopled with fascinating characters like “Silent Max,” the Asian martial arts master, or the “Professor,” a street-smart philosopher and Burke’s mentor. The shadowy Burke is an ex-con and “man for hire” continuously walking a tightrope between freedom and prison.  

In his previous novel, Dead And Gone, Vachss left Burke stranded on the west coast; “presumed dead” by the NYPD after exacting revenge on the enemies that tried to kill him. With the latest entry in the Burke series, titled Pain Management (Alfred A. Knopf), Vachss takes the character into uncharted territory. Working in the unfamiliar environs of Portland, Oregon, Burke has taken on the job of finding a runaway teenager. Working without the safety net of his self-styled “family,” Burke finds himself embroiled in the designs of the drug-running “pain management” underground, the book delivering an ending that should surprise even the most faithful of Vachss’ readers. Vachss writes with the soul and the poetry of the street, bringing his own experiences as a lawyer, federal prosecutor and children’s advocate to bear in creating his rough-hewn and dark-hued tales. Pain Management is a fine introduction to Burke’s world, but be forewarned – after you’ve devoured one Burke novel, you’ll be running to your local bookstore to grab them all up.

Everybody who has lived in Nashville for any length of time has a favorite Waylon Jennings story, and your humble columnist is no exception. Jennings was a familiar figure in the Music City back in the seventies and one Christmas Eve, a group of friends and myself ran into Waylon drinking beer and playing darts by the fireplace of Daddywacker’s, a local joint with big burgers, cold beer and homemade potato chips.

We began drinking beer with him and as the night wore on, Waylon suggested that we needed a Christmas tree to make the night memorable. Several of us staggered out into the alleyway behind the restaurant and found a scrappy little pine sapling behind a dumpster. Setting it up in the main room, we decorated it with empty beer mugs and potato chips. Waylon sat and drank with us until midnight and, as the restaurant closed, we wished each other a Merry Christmas and went our separate ways.

That’s the kind of guy that Waylon Jennings was, more comfortable sitting and drinking with a bunch of working class stiffs than in hanging out at any one of the industry parties that he was certainly invited to. At the time, 1976 or ‘77, Jennings was riding high, one of the biggest stars in Nashville. Success never seemed to go to his head, though, and Waylon continued to fight to retain his artistic integrity. Throughout the course of his career, Waylon never lost his connection to his fans, the audiences who appreciated his efforts to bring them music that was sincere, passionate and from the heart.

With the attitude of a punk rocker, the soul of a bluesman and the heart of a poet, Waylon Jennings forged a name and legend for himself in country music. Jennings’ death at the young age of 64 from complications due to diabetes is a sad reminder that he was one of a dying breed of Country musicians. One of the last of a generation of giants such as Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson, Waylon and his friends worked their musical magic without focus groups or image consultants. They remained true to their roots, to their beliefs and to their idea of what country music should be. There will never be another artist quite like Waylon Jennings, and come next Christmas Eve I’ll be sure to raise my glass to his memory... (The View On Pop Culture, March 2002)