Rolling Country 2010

Speaking of Los Lobos, and not to be contrarian, but it seems like the narrator is on the verge, he's some old tired guy, but made up his mind to do something, take revenge and/or a commission, various indicators of volatility keep rolling by or up the block, and little jolts--I know, enough with the foreplay already, but the tension keeps getting renewed, reinforced, and the Dead cover fits perfectly, with no crunchy granola attached (it's all sudewalks and loud-ass traffic, the whole album, and then there's the sardonic "happy ending" history short). A cliche to say it's a soundtrack for movies you can make up, but it really seems to work that way, rumbling implications--if it were so definite a storyline, would get too familiar too fast, perhaps. Anyway, not country, but not bad (and could see some old country guy making his mind up like this guy does, though with a dif musical feel)

Humility and settling for the neighborhood bar are limiting by definition.

This only begins to touch upon it. First, there's the stone fact that extremism of any kind isn't tolerated in the neighborhood bar. Unless the audience is going to spend its entire payday check, or a substantial part of it. Which forgives a lot.

I remember talking to the owner of a local place in the Valley and he always appreciated biker audiences. At the time, they wouldn't fill the place, but they'd spend all their money. So they could do anything, and so could the bands that played for them -- within some limits. And the owner never would mind.

On the other hand, most of the places I dealt with regularly got crimped if someone played too loud and the place wasn't packed enough to soak up the volume/shock wave. And that defeats a lot of very good music. Why? Because it's always too loud if it's to a half or more empty house -- which it always is for beginners no matter how good they are, or on off nights. So there's an imposed conservatism that selects for the mediocre and auto-limiters, the inoffensive run-of-the-mill types. And for some, they just get ruined -- or conditioned, from play too long in the joints. The 20-minute fern bar blues number by bald white guys in denim, coming to mind. Or anyone wearing a cowboy hat onstage in the corner in the Lehigh Valley.

Really, there's a book in the sociology of it.

And of course there are no mediocre mega-stars, cos they're all so driven (Chesney's doing chin-ups right now!)

Nah, of course there are plenty. There's mediocrity (and, potentially, greatness) at all levels. (Though I like the current Chesney single fine, and he's made plenty of better than mediocre music, and I doubt many unknown acts even here in Austin could match his output over the years if given the chance.) All I'm saying is that it's ridiculous to pretend the biz's gatekeepers are entirely inept.

On the other hand, at least when it comes to music marketed as "rock" (as opposed to country), those biz gatekeepers sure have been doing a pretty amazing approximation of ineptness for the past decade or two regardless. So what the hell do I know? (Then again, it's not like I've heard all that many great "rock" acts they've missed the boat on in the recent past, either.)

And I also have to assume that some of the Southern Soul acts I've been liking so much lately (and would take over anybody currently on the r&b chart) might play live in somebody's neighborhood sometime. I just figure said neighborhoods are pretty few and far between, is all. So I'm obviously somewhat ambivalent on the issue. But Don, I'm really not trying to generalize patronizingly, honest.

yeah, Don, you get at what I hear in the Lobos record. They're leaving the city but they don't know for where. Country guys don't know either, but their refuge is probably just farther out in the country. I do hear the opening track as, formally, country.

Probably I got off track talking about mid-level acts. I think the original point was just that acoustic music makes sense economically and socially in this era, for a lot of reasons. I think it's interesting to consider what kind of talent country execs/A&R people are looking for. Not especially songwriting, right, or "conceptual" (we all know how hostile the powers that be are to autonomy in country music), but...vocal, image, looks. And it is true there are plenty of people who are under-appreciated, as Don says, local guys with more to offer. So how do these folks make their Statement to the World, then? What does it take?

More on the Nuge's deer baiting. Apparently the show which had him doing this was broadcast in February, at which time it generated some comment on various hunting boards.

http://dickdestiny.com/blog1/2010/08/17/tuesday-morning-nugent/

It's true that local guys can get resented (and internalize directice for goin' above their raisin', but that's why I thought of the circuit-riding guy, not that circuits can't produce/demand a lot of hacks. But the biz is so weird now, and grassroots technology provides some new-ish means of recording and exposure (until the broadband frontier gets totally fenced in), that it's harder to provide reliable gate-keeping--but I don't want to automatically shut out *or* cut slack for underdogs. Yeah, Chesney's good sometimes.

internalize repressive directives, I meant.

Nashville's Barry Mazor has a new column on country for the 9513 website. Read why Barry doesn't think it's any fun to read about Buck Owens as big country dick, and other burning issues, here.

until the broadband frontier gets totally fenced in

Already happening to a certain extent. One, the US lags all other successful western nations in broadband. Mostly because of the US "free market" model, which isn't a free market at all, but which does view Internet as a commodity. So you get commodity pricing and service, which is uncompetitive and not great. Whereas other western nations see broadband as a key to good things, subsidizing better faster access for
cheaper.

Second, by default, all US providers cricumscribe your upload speed all the time. Download speed some of the time. You can make the argument that individuals don't need high velocity upload unless they want to pay a premium. But that just puts that half of broadband access into the domain of the usual big corporate entertainment providers.

Yeah, right now I'm listening to an NPR story, mentioning that the FCC has 400,000,000 bucks set aside to extend broadband into rural areas, but it's somewhat controversial, re Big Gov vs. Free Enterprise, though the latter hasn't shown much interest, which is the FCC's point. No doubt Rand Paul and his new colleagues will save us. The story also mentions rural access to medical specialists online, by referral and appointment. It can be good--if you have access. Somebody should write a country song about having to wait at the library, to get your auto-clock rationed hour of doing course work, filling out on-line job applications, or gov forms.Incl gov partnerships, like the IRS with Turbo-Tax, if you can afford that, and someday you'll have to afford and/or access something like that,privitization/"personalization" or no. Even to read the news, or a book--more and more new books will be e-reader only, and in the cloud,with your music collection, and remember Amazon cut off access to some Orwell titles, when they had a dispute with someone who thought he was still the "publisher."

Access of those who thought they were still "buyers," that is.

that the FCC has 400,000,000 bucks set aside to extend broadband into rural areas

It's not the only problem. Broadband access, for a lot who have it in the US, just isn't that great a commercial offering compared to other places.

And telepresence doctoring doesn't replace face to face. I do recall, when going to the doctor many times as a child and teenager before it went goodbye, that touch and close eyeballing were parts of the
diagnostic process. As well as the continuity of seeing someone who knew your history a bit, from repeated visit.

Somebody should write a country song about having to wait at the library (etc) ...

Good idea.

Pete Seeger would be ripe for it if he could be regenerated.

someone should write a song about the homeless using the library. in Nashville, we have a beautiful ornate huge library smack downtown. and the homeless use it for bathroom, sleep, internet access...they smell funky but I don't mind, far be it from me to judge, you know? but it generates a lot of angst.

Don, I passed along your addy to Mark Linn at Delmore re the Riley/ Gary Stewart record, which I want to write more about here, and will be covering for the Scene, looks like. Chuck, George, if you want to pass along yr physical addresses to me, Linn tells me he's into sending out some copies to people who might appreciate...feel free to hit me via ilx e-mail...

got a copy of two great Haggards from '71/'72 today, "California Cottonfields" and "Tulare Dust" era, one of those Capitol twofers...man, what great stuff, what astringent guitar playing, and ol' Hag won't be seen at Huntsville, no sir.

Great,thanks ebb! Mebbe I can cover that too. Yeah, I know about the homeless in the bigger library, the one across the river. I accidentally got one of those guys in trouble with the Montgomery Police, though he may have deserved (and emerged a better man for) it, far as I heard later. Nashville-wise, "King of the Road" seems pretty close, "Smokin' old stogies I have found/Checkin' the locks when there's no one around", not that they all do that, though the ones that do aren't nec. that discreet.

Oh yeah, after the Hag doc I linked upthread, was re-reading xgau's 70s tracking of Merle, wotta narrative. Think I might get the tracks he mentions from the Amazon MP3 Store, see what kind of wagon train that can turn into (Kinda reminds me of when I read, in unbroken sequence, all xhuxx's Accidental Evolution comments on John Mellentemplate)(whose new album sequences performances in Sun Studios, Robert Johnson's hotel room, hell why not by Hank's grave, John? Yall come!)

(Greil Marcus's ancestors are buried across the row from Hank, I shit you not)

Am absorbing the new Adkins CD, on xhuxk's recommendation. I like it, more later. However, the lead-off tune, the boom-chika-boom thing isn't great at all. Once it's going it sounds like something I'd pass on from Jason Aldean. It's boring mostly hookless rhythmic hard rock lite with stupid lyrics. And it has the Deliverance-banjo meaninglessly tied to it, the equiv of a jaw harp (which would be better). And someone should explain to me why it's necessary to crap up so many cuts with it as seasoning. Anyway, he loses it for the rest of the CD, which is great by me.

Yeah, I hope I wasn't too misleading there. I like the guitar crunch that "Brown Chicken Brown Cow" revolves around, and the porn-pun conceipt hit me as passing clever once the frigging New York Times explained it to me, but as a song it's still kind of meh -- not nearly as successful a butt-rocker as "Ala-Freakin-Bama" or "Whoop A Man's Ass," or "Marry For Money" or "Hauling One Thing" last time out for that matter. (And I still much prefer X to Cowboy's Back In Town, as an album.) Favorites on the new one, beyond the two just named, are probably "Hold My Beer" and "Hell, I Can Do That," and maybe "Break Her Fall." Though I may just need more time with the ballads, as usual.

Where it's best, as in most, are the ones with the shiny guitars doing the tactically big brang and soft slash to a swing. Which describes how "Hold My Beer" comes right in before getting into the conversational funnies.

And it's not mucked up by lack of hook.

Surprisingly, I tend to like the ballads a little more -- like the title cut -- because he sings
them so much better, really throwing himself into them. Plus they bring the big heart cinerama arrangements.

Don't really care for "Whoop a Man's Ass" too. A bit rote, can't feel rage that oughta be there.

As I said re "Marry for Money," someone discovered vintage Status Quo guitars for that.

"Don't Mind If I Don't" is another standard timewaster, sounding to me like something I'd see
Chesney burping out in video except the latter'd be singing about the beach and doing the poor man's Jimmy Buffett.

"Ala-Freakin-Bama," for obvious reasons. The guitars and football cheer do it everytime. If it were overplayed, though, I'd get sick of it fast.

"Break Her Fall" is another of the cineramic things.

Four bonus cuts eat it except for the one about singing about photos on mantles.

Note, "Marry for Money" being from the previous.

Adkins album about twenty straight great minutes, from "Hold My Beer" to "Hell, I Can Do That" including the title cut and the first vid song I've seen, ""This Ain't No Love Song." In terms of the time of diminished expectations, that shoves it across the goal line. Without tripping over its two feet in open field, to paraphrase one of its tales.

Here's me on Trace's X--2 1/2 stars.

From its opening song, which finds Trace Adkins taking a girl home to his mother, X plays like the satisfied, venal musings of a strictly material kind of guy. “She’s sweet like a Cadillac/Sweet like a stack of cold, hard cash,” Trace sings, and doesn’t stint on the sweet details: “Tattoos in secret places.” His mother should be proud. The sincere moments are all right, but Frank Rogers’ generic-plus production honors commonplace usages in a way that obscures Adkins’ essential talent, which is for comedy. The soulful “Let’s Do That Again” is listenable; the blues guitar and and dumb wit of “Marry for Money” make for great fun. Let’s hope Trace gets the trust fund and hot tub--love can come later.

http://dickdestiny.com/blog1/2010/08/18/the-simple-pleasures-of-folksy-tea-party-tunes/

Do agree that Adkins tends to save his best singing for the ballads. Just get the impression that's not where he gets his best material. (Which wasn't always the case, so I could well be wrong.)

Anyway, here I am on the new John Cougie Mellentemplate album, the box set he put out last month, and The Early Years (guess which one I like best):

http://blog.rhapsody.com/2010/08/mellencamp.html

the early years...? (now going to Rhapsody)...

yep. he was better in the Bloomington days for sure. I don't hate his later stuff, but I find it depressing...

One of the funniest things Adkins does on the record comes right off, as the opening to "Hold My Beer" with the "Uuuuuhhh, dearly beloved ..." With any other kind of American voice, maybe not so funny. With
his baritone and the southern accent, perfect.

But I think anything said in a Pennsy Dutch accident is hilarious, so my standards are low.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-KVmRtEO18k

Was considering writing about this. It's featured by Sean Hannity since the band has been made a big part of his Freedom Rally.

http://www.tulsaworld.com/scene/article.aspx?subjectid=370&articleid=20100819_455_WK12_CUTLIN237981

The Tulsa paper writes about Hannity, Skynyrd and the concert, bringing up a couple points worth discussing, although a little awkwardly. For example, all of the original members of Lynyrd Skynyrd are dead except for two. One, Ed King, isn't in the band. Only Gary Rossington is. And while Johnny Van Zant is Ronnie's brother...

So, de facto, LS 2.0 or 3.0 are the 'best' Tea Party band. They touch all the same idiotic white-man's- paranoia themes in the folk videos I posted yesterday, only with great singing and musicality. They're going after the same pockets as Worley.

You could make a long discussion about how it differs from the subtlety of "Sweet Home Alabama" and the mythology of that over the years, but I mostly just write it off to the fact that 90 percent of the band is dead and now they do what they have to do for the Nugent circuit.

Interesting added notes about Charlie Daniels, nothing of which really surprises, though. No surprise the Hannity charity isn't much of a charity, either.

It's quite something to make the mass delusiuon "they're gonna take my guns and my bible" the central part of your record. I don't believe the Obama administration has done a single thing in either of these areas.

I've also been thinking about it and "mass delusion" doesn't quite describe what's going on. Near mass psychosis is closer.

In terms of mass psychosis, this would seem to have some relevance:

http://blogs.abcnews.com/politicalpunch/2010/08/growing-number-of-americans-falsely-believe-president-obama-is-muslim.html

Boy, didn't think I could be made to feel embarrassed about admitting to like watching football. But Chesney's eight-minute (8 minutes!) video for "Boys of Fall" sure took a good stab at it.

Gracious, what's he trying for, entry into the hall of fame, a second career at NFL Films, a
starring role as Ara Parseghian in a remake of Rudy or the Gavin Grey character in Everybody's All American?

SJers (but not me) review new singles from

Taylor Swift

http://www.thesinglesjukebox.com/?p=2666

and Miranda Lambert

http://www.thesinglesjukebox.com/?p=2668

Good lord, this thread exploded since I last checked in! It's probably a bit late to jump into the Daryl Worley discussion, however much I may want to bring up his Playgirl spread, so I'll just start from the bottom.

Anyone care to take a shot at parsing this blurb from the "Only Prettier" TSJ:

How long do you think it’ll be before country lyricists realize that no one who actually lives in cities spends much time contemplating hypothetical bar out-tartings with rowdy crews from the sticks? Or really, any potentially awkward encounter with corn-fed denizens? That, perhaps, the point of cities is to provide us with something better to do with our time?

That strikes me as an especially ugly thing to say, and with not a hell of a lot of actual relevance to the lyrical content of "Only Prettier." But maybe I'm being a bit too sensitive here?

The new Trace Adkins set *sounds* pretty great-- the rock licks have enough heft to them without the piss-poor compression issues on so many recent country albums-- but the number of novelty songs grates. I didn't like Joe Diffie's 90s albums for pretty much the same reason. Adkins is a fine enough singer, but he only has a handful of singles and album tracks that I would revisit on purpose.

New Joey & Rory out next month isn't much to get worked up about at all.

I liked "Only Prettier." Heard it via the video. Maybe the vid had something to do with it, starring Pickler and the girl from Lady A in side roles, and probably others I didn't recognize. The guitars have the shapr glisten to 'em that I always like.

piss-poor compression issues on so many recent country albums

Which ones? (I'm not sure my ears are atuned to "compression issues", good or bad, at all, fwiw.)

New Joey & Rory out next month isn't much to get worked up about at all.

Nor was their first one, tbh, but there's something vaguely interesting in the lead cut/key cut/(first single maybe?) being called "Album Number Two." Turns cliched before long, but still -- very meta, as was some other new country track heard in the last week. But right now I can't think of what that was.

Sunny Sweeney "From A Table Away" now getting country play in Austin; Kevin Fowler "Pound Sign (#?*!)" getting more and more -- both sound great on a car radio, so both climbing my 2010 singles list as we speak. And until it slows down at the end, at least, the new Randy Houser album is growing on me, too.

Re compression, Miranda Lambert songs hurt my ears worse than the Sleigh Bells. Everything's as loud as everything else, and her voice is strident to begin with. That said, I like Miranda better than the Sleigh Bells. I'm not sure who else Jon hears having compression issues, but this makes me wanna hear the Adkins more.

That ugly Singles Jukebox comment really pissed me off until I listened to "Only Prettier", and I guess Miranda's kind of asking for it. I'll say she's equally ugly, only funnier. But she's not really talking about what she does with her time in that song, which seems to be the implication of the comment. I'll assume she leads a full life.

As far as compression goes, it seems like the Loudness War has finally come to Nashville in the last year or so. Revolution is probably the worst offender I can recall offhand-- it's a good thing I like the songs and Miranda's singing, because the record itself sounds awful-- but I'd say that Carrie Underwood's Play On, the last Jack Ingram album, Lee Brice's record, and Blake Shelton's two EPs from this year all suffer from the same problem of everything being "as loud as everything else."

Here's Chris Neal's much more articulate take on the subject from the last Nashville Scene comments:

Last year, too much loudness (that is, an excess of volume and dynamic-range compression in the mix and/or mastering) did unforgivable damage to what should have been my favorite rock album of the year, Metallica's Death Magnetic. This year it did the same for what should have been my favorite country album of the year, Miranda Lambert's Revolution. Here is an album filled with wonderful songs and terrific performances, neither of which I can stand to listen to because the sound has been so distorted by loudness and flattened by compression that it breaks my heart. The so-called "Loudness War" has been raging for more than a decade in the rock world, but Revolution will always stand for me as the first great country album to become a casualty. This vile practice is the mortal enemy of modern music, and it should be stopped immediately.

To which I would say: Yes, that.

The first single from the new Joey & Rory is actually "This Song's for You," the duet with Zac Brown. Basically a protracted handjob to a crowd at a show: Probably plays fine enough live, but I can't think of a single reason anyone would want to hear a recorded version. They're a charming enough couple in their interviews, in a way that only intermittently comes across in their music. The single and the album overall, despite the self-referential title cut, are both just inert.

"Pound Sign" has already gone to recurrent status on the Billboard chart, but I was surprised that it didn't even crack the top 30. The Sunny Sweeney single is a grower, though. With so many new singles from Underwood, Taylor Swift, Rascal Flatts, Sugarland, and Brad Paisley all having debuted in the last month, it's going to be hard for Sweeney to push very far into the top 40, but I could get on board with that.

Ha ha, I posted that Neal comment upthread, again bitching about Lambert's sound. So, agreed--except Jon, please tell me you're not also coming out in favor of "Death Magnetic."

I'll go ahead and link to Nick Southall's Imperfect Sound Forever article, an excellent explanation of why overuse of compression is bad, in case people haven't read it.

Refined what I had to say upstream a bit, added some things, some repetition:

http://dickdestiny.com/blog1/2010/08/19/another-tea-party-band/

listening to the Riley record again today. One great song about a guy who learns how to be a man when his dad returns from doing time for fucking up the dude whom his mom was fucking, another great one about stopping to smoke weed in a "field of green," two takes on the title track, "Grandma's Roadhouse," which mentions bar-b-que pork on cornbread, a very Marmalade "Reflections of My Life" chord progression in one called "Pictures," and plenty of rock grooves that are never overdone but which really rock. Extra tracks include one called "Got to Get Away" (not the Rolling Stones tune) that chugs out on three minutes of fuzz guitar. The vocals by Gary Stewart are fine; the vocals by Riley Watkins himself are even better, robust, energized, and reminiscent of Burton Cummings at his most astringent or Moby Grape's Bob Moseley. In short, a masterpiece of a record; there's real passion and delicacy, but at its most generic it sounds like great Southern rock without a shred of chauvinistic preening and like Sahm or CCR or the Grape without any of the stiffness of CCR or the laziness of Sahm or the formalist fuck-off of the Grape. Riley Watkins went on to play in bands in the '70s and played again with Stewart in the late '70s and early '80s--you can see him with Stewart in Austin City Limits footage from '81. I talked to Watkins this afternoon; he said that in the early days Stewart's focus was almost entirely rock 'n' roll, and when Watkins saw Stewart perform in the mid-'70s, doing some songs during a Charley Pride set in which Stewart played piano in Pride's band, Watkins was shocked at how completely Stewart had veered toward country. Production on Grandma's Roadhouse is excellent, great stereo separation and blend of guitars and electric piano, with vocals expressing a yearning for roots and peace of mind, even, that the lyrics themselves both confirm and deny. If there's a stronger divorce song told from the viewpoint of a wounded child than "Daddy's Coming Home" I don't know it.

I agree on the compression issue. It also has ruined a lot of rock records, like the last Go-Betweens album--listen to the way the otherwise awesome "Darlinghurst Nights" grates on the ear due to the attempt to make everything LOUD. It's fucked up.

So Mellenfarmer's furrowed brow became the aforementioned and enduring template for so many, incl Worley at his best. I wouldn't mind following Adkins across the tracks, to what would be the good side of town in my case, but also I still like Mellen as an old-James-Dean folkie,with restless cig smoke from sea to shining (incl deep-oiled) sea. Premise of new album seems pretentious, but I liked a couple of tracks when blindfold-tested, also still like this set, though my writing isn't quite what I'd want now:
http://www.villagevoice.com/content/printVersion/217257. It is a snapshot of the page as it appeared on Jun 4, 2010
Little Punk Houses For You and Me
Don Allred
published: August 31, 1999
John Mellencamp: Rough Harvest Mercury
Thee former Mr. Cougrat's latest offering, Rough Harvest, is a compatible collection of big hits and personal chestnuts, re-recorded with his fave-ravin' fiddle-and-drum band, during rehearsals, gigs, and other moments gracefully gleaned from the glimmering old gravytrain. No more huge hits a-coming, probably, but anyone who once tapped a toe to, then started to yawn along with, Hootie, Ani, R.E.M., or for that matter Dylan's once-ballyhooed Rolling Thunder Review (past Desire's "Hurricane") will nevertheless find here dang near a whole album's worth of purty pet (not pat) sounds suitable to shaking a stick or even a leg to (or at). Knee-haah!
However. Once I got used to jigging around at RH's immediately engaging hoedown, I started fretting the prominence of its folkie keep-on- truckin' farm, good-taste-bound. Bumper crop of beats notwithstanding, was this not basically bad faith with the hard-(Coug Age)-won, and even harder-(1989 98's Human Wheels, Dance Naked, Mr. Happy Go Lucky, John Mellencamp)-established balance of acoustic/electric, loud/soft, boy/girl "secret" alliances? Mellencholy comfort food for his/our downtime?
I mean, just consider a little ditty I know you know, about Jack and Diane. Ever the astute collector, Mr. Camp copped (one of) this song's famous phrases from Garland Jeffreys's Ghost Writer. GJ's "Spanish Town" was as much limbo as ghetto, about a guy who's "gonna suck on a chili dog"— seems like that's all his Hot Latin Heritage comes down to. Likewise, Jack and Diane are about to see their chili dreams left on ice, down by the Tastee-Freez. But there's something almost luxurious in the way John rasps "Ohhh Yeahhh," and then positively flourishing is "Life! goes on-n-n"— one hand's resting on the wheel, the other's magnanimously waving another driver by. So, " . . . long after the thrill/of livin' is gone" still is, like, foreboding, but ends up presuming it's got all the time in the world to be that way (and to take moody-broody satisfactions where it can).

My favorite bits involve the guitars. Acoustic serenades for Jack and Diane; mushy stuff offset by a remarkable refrain. Stern electric chords move in like a starchfront, only to meet a little patch of finger-, gum-, and even string-pops spelling out "So what?" (As in "What are you rebelling against?" "Whaddaya got?") Cherrybomb-flava'd topping, on such an almost just-plain-pained-abundance of 'tude— thus, pop-wise, we're given the pause that (still!) refreshes. So ('tudinally), let's compare Harvest's nice new versions to the originals.

"Rain on the Scarecrow" (1985) was where John got (some of) the bathetic pseudo-populist crap scared out of him by the reality of farms disappearing in an epidemic of foreclosures, every day. So "Jack And Diane" 's robust "So what?" became two notes endlessly repeated by a rhetorical worm of mechanical guitar: "Dur-dur?" automatically shredding a glare-ice storm over a farm being taken, burying John's merely human, merely eloquent outrage. This current edition is merely (?) eloquent, period. And "Jackie Brown" 's new purism dilutes Jackie's possible solace, glimpsed in Human Wheels's more "commercial" string arrangement. Yep, mighty Rough Harvest, by crackey— those two were too old for geldin'. But the rest of it's a trade-off that gets better all the time.

Human Wheels's title song is now minus some of the studio version's catchiness, but also its arty-farty vocal filtration. The "Losing My Religion" parajangle R.E.M.ains (electric!). One or two other numbers do miss Kenny Aronoff (he's with Melissa Etheridge now), but new drummer Dane Clark (plus the return of Me'shell Ndegéocello's bass and vocals) keeps a live "Wild Night" shoulderbopping past Van Morrison's fancily nostalgic Tupelo Honey original. And the traditional "In My Time of Dying" 's buoyantly celebratory momentum makes Led Zep's (copyrighted) 11-minute Physical Graffiti wankathon seem positively Spïnal Tap.

As for the (appropriately) smoother stuff, that Pied Piper glint in Dylan's (Bootleg Series box) "Farewell Angelina" ain't here, probably because Mellen figures we'll never get out of this world alive, so rather than tease, he takes us on a merry-go-round tour of the song. Then he decides what the heck: his own "Minutes to Memories" forgoes its original antsiness to float a few between-the-Earth-the-Moon-and-the-Greyhound suspensions in its title's process. "Under the Boardwalk" 's harmonies have a cookout by the sea. And overall, Miriam Sturm's violin plays off Janas Hoyt's vocals, as well as her own (and everybody's rhythm): hazy one minute, prismatic the next. John's never sung better than on this album, un-der the moh-woh-woh-ohhn, of course. Pawp's Art!

listening to the new Caitlin Rose right now. "who's gonna take me home/who's gonna want me now, ah-ah." She don't wanna go it alone. Voice raises to a pitch of hysteria and then the arrangement loses the strings and she quavers about how it's not her right to push her man around. "For the Rabbits" opens also with strings and then settles into a 12/8 thing in a vaguely countrypolitan thing with elec piano and Beatle-esque chord progressions and tremelo guitar. nice 'politan chord changes and a guitar solo that leads back into her vocal.

got a throaty wistful kind of approach and something a bit genteel too. "Fall into this old disaster/Because it's better than spending your nights alone." More strings. I sorta wince every time she re-enters the mix. Well-written but she also rhymes "ocean" and "emotion." Something little-girl about the whole thing. I find the mix and the playing good, but somehow too much, perhaps on purpose, fulsome or even saccharine. It's the voice. Let's try "New York City." Same kind of chord changes as before. Folkie melodic moves and she says, "didn't have to pay no rent or be no good com-pa-ny." Ricky-tick all the way. But these Tin Pan Alley suspensions and seventh chords constantly coming in and some castanets or something. John Sebastian.

Doubletracked voice elsewhere on a song about hitting the bottom/hear me callin'/from the bottom of her sinful wishing well. Yikes. this is musical but the singing is too damned arch for me, fadeaway phrasing, she's trying to be cute. I thought she was supposed to be a tough girl who drank too much and smoked too many American Spirits and all that, just another folkie, but Nevers made it sound good. Holy shit, the British press are giving her good notices, and I saw her in cowboy boots in a parking lot once, and she is cute and about 23. I feel like I've eaten a bag of peanut butter M&Ms and drank two Bud Lites in the back of a Ford Explorer stuck on I-40.

except Jon, please tell me you're not also coming out in favor of "Death Magnetic."

Good God, no. Neal can stand alone on that one.

In agreement, though, that the new Mellencamp w/ T Bone album is worth a listen. Strikes me as drawn heavily from the brand of old timey acoustic blues that they didn't really pull off on Mellencamp's last album. Suits Mellencamp well, though, and it surely belongs in this thread.

Anybody got a publicist contact for Jamey Johnson? Email me at pdfreeman at gmail dot com. Thanks...

Listening to Grandma's Roadhouse, so far I'm digging most of the writing and playing. The picture's faded, and Riley's set free! How often does that happen in a country song, or any song? Not nearly enough, and he rejoices. But he's the dominant and gut-busting voice, which will take some getting used to. He's better on the more rocking tracks--the bonus tracks are excellent and should have been on the LP, losing the included version of the title track, (that cool, down the steps melody's revealed in the outtake; no need for the master'srawkus caucus). Also could ditch "Field of Green", which distractingly recalls Crosby Stills & Nash; ditto "Funky Tar Paper Shack", with its "Lodi" roll. Th version of "Easy People" 's recurring suggestion of "The Weight" is a little distracting, but main distraction is Riley's vocal squeezebox. But at least six keepers. Really digging the rubbery sustain over tilting groove, in "Gotta Get Away", especially, and many trax have some truly pungent electric piano (a truly rare thang re electric pianos). Thanks for the tip, Cousin Ebbtide! (PS: country needed Gary more than rock, Ebb, and still does)

As for Gary, this following just manages to suggest how soulfully/conflictedly satisfying he can still be, but anyway:

Out Of Hand
A bar-stool freebird of yore avoids a million nights alone
Don Allred
published: January 20, 2004
Details: Gary Stewart Live At Billy Bob's Texas (Smith Music Group)
(The following paragraph was written for a country music poll ballot in December, right before I glanced up from my laptop, and saw the wordcrawl beneath Larry King: "Singer Gary Stewart has just been found dead in his Florida home." [Wife died, and he shot himself in the neck, a fairly slow way to go.])
On Live at Billy Bob's Texas, Gary Stewart is but a ghost of himself. Now fitting the "quiet ones you gotta watch" barkeep's pro-file, this free(dom'sjustanotherword)bird of yore (once hyped as the "Springsteen of country," when he and the new Boss were go-cart Mozarts versus mid-'70s murk) no longer shivers and wails, but leaves dusty fingerprints all over gleaming, surging honky-tonkcore, the Lost City of his Greatest (mostly shouldabeen) Hits. The band's eager, but also well disciplined, and totally unannotated, like ghost riders in the sky.
(Later): Yeah, another dead guy. Once upon a time, he was Dr. Fun and Mr. Doom (and self-awareness, and headlonging), simultaneously. Gary still sounds like an impossibly corny, truly inspired evangelist, on Out of Hand/Your Place or Mine, his two best LPs on one CD. Songs flash by like whole lives, but really they're just his moments, ticking away.
Live cuts like "An Empty Glass (That's the Way the Day Ends)" turn the tides down like blankets, till I'm bathed in the sweetest taboo (of self-pity). Tiring, soothing. I just stare through his stare, on the rocks, as he imagines/avoids/follows her stare. "Maybe you feel cheated, for having married so young," he mutters to himself and his significant other, while shifting on his bar stool, in the still-rousing "Ten Years of This." ("A million nights alone!") So: Mebbe getting married is cheating? No! Not always!
The Live CD is labeled with Gary's chipmunky, half-quizzical half-smirk. ("Crazy world, haint it.") Vividly painted. Like one of those commemorative plates advertised on late-night basic cable. I try to put it away, but then a-l-l-l his damned drinkin'/cheatin' songs start swirling through their rounds again. Scores unsettle themselves, in Gary's man-made afterlife. (Reminding 25-years-teetotaling meeee: For the first time in eight years, I gotta find another job, and now Bush wants Mars!) Art sucks.

Friday's dose of Nugent. He never sleeps and it's what you've come to expect.

http://dickdestiny.com/blog1/2010/08/20/droolin-pukin-dyin/