teabowl

Oh (Ohio)

Lambchop. Merge Records 2008, Audio CD, $10.59

Despite the recording industry’s continuing contraction (not unlike the financial system’s), the world is full of beautiful music that’s worth hearing. One result of the long tail economy has been that there’s so much more music being released independently but not necessarily distributed or marketed. It’s a lot of work reading all the relevant magazines and sites to get ideas and stay on top of things. All of this as a preamble to establish some sort of reasonable way for me to say that I hadn’t ever heard Lambchop before today. I had read about them and they were on my must-check-them-out radar for a while. Now, though, there’s a new album, and New Release Tuesday put it in front of me so that I couldn’t ignore it any longer. In a handy listening post, no less.

This is spectacularly beautiful music. It’s immediately engaging and fits right into the Americana-country-folk-jazz gumbo I’ve been listening to lately. It’s a sort of downtempo alt-country (but alt-country not in a twangy way - more in a “what if Elvis had lived and regressed back to his glam country roots” kind of way), sung by singer-songwriter Kurt Wagner in a dispassionate, minimalist, low voice while an eleven-piece band plays some of the biggest quiet music you can imagine.

Some of it sounds a little like a loungy, countrified, downtempo, ever-so-slightly electronic version of Marvin Gaye’s late period slow burners. Then, there are pieces that somehow marry Neil Diamond and REM (if that makes any sense). Despite being very different vocalists, Kurt Wagner also has something of Bryan Ferry’s theatricality.

This is a very ‘technicolor’ record - incredibly big and very focused and economical at the same time. The quality of the recorded sound is beautiful throughout: a ramarkably sparse ‘widescreen’ experience where power comes from practicing restraint. This is quite a different band from, say, the Arcade Fire - there, more musicians means more sound, more space of the spectrum taken up by noise. Here, it’s the opposite: it’s a fun guessing game to see if you can spot what instrument/musician might have produced the barely audible murmur in the background.

Another good game would be to come up with theories as to why Kurt Wagner needs eleven musicians at all. Not that I’m complaining. I would highly recommend this, and I’ll be exploring more Lambchop.

The Trouble With Humans

Chip Taylor. Megaforce 2006, Audio CD, $10.73

Staying with the theme of how country music could be, here’s a favourite record by Chip Taylor and Carrie Rodriguez. Taylor is a singer-songwriter who emerged as a writer of hit songs in the 60s (’Angel of the Morning’ and ‘Wild Thing,’ for example). Although he was born and grew up in New York, he had a strong predilection for country music from an early age, and that’s where he has now returned. Taylor met Carrie Rodriguez, an Oberlin and Berklee College of Music trained singer/songwriter/fiddler, during an in-store performance she gave at the South by Southwest Music Festival in 2001. The two now perform as a duo. Four albums and an EP into their journey together, their music is a low-key, intelligent kind of country/folk - not entirely dissimilar to, say, the Texas singer/songwriter Townes van Zandt. Anchored by Taylor’s strong rhythm guitar and harmonica and Rodriguez’ fiddle, the songs feature insightful lyrics and a kind of “old time country” feel. They also couldn’t be further removed from the Carrie Underwoods and Jessica Simpsons that seem to pass for country music today. Taylor and Rodriguez have perfectly matching voices - hers a strong cowgirl soprano with a Texas drawl, his a refined baritone with occasional carelessly slurred syllables and frequent moments where he speaks more than he sings. The lyrics are precise and emotionally spot-on throughout - this is material that’s carefully thought out, written to be performed by these two performers, meant to showcase their unique abilities. The Trouble With Humans is a beautiful record about grown-up relationships whose words often manage to encapsulate a core truth in the simplest way possible, yet in a way that we’ve never heard before. ‘Curves and Things’ and the title track should be prescribed material in English class, they’re so good.

Wrecking Ball

Emmylou Harris. Asylum Records 1995, Audio CD, $7.50

A towering achievement and also an immensely likeable record. Emmylou Harris, after spending the first half of the 90s playing and recording solid if traditionally-oriented country albums, in 1995 teams up with Daniel Lanois and engineer Malcolm Burn to make a surprisingly experimental, electronica-influenced, slow-burning gem of a modern country record that sounds nothing - absolutely nothing - like country music sounds in 1995 (or since, for that matter). She forges a completely unique path here, presenting material in a way that boldly proposes an alternate universe: one where country music does not sound like 80s mainstream rock (or bluegrass nostalgia). Instead of commercial sheen, the music here has grit, tape hiss, low and odd keyboard pads, loops and samples… and yet, there’s Emmylou Harris’ voice, invoking a true country idiom with every line she sings. There’s much pain and sadness on this record, all of it worth hearing any number of times. A true artist statement, even though she only co-wrote one of the songs (”Waltz Across Texas Tonight,” with Rodney Crowell), Wrecking Ball is a must-have, even if you don’t like country as a rule. (As someone who was always a performer and never a writer, this album also marks the beginning of Emmylou Harris’ journey into songwriting, culminating in later records that have a similar sound but songs mostly penned by her, which are also worth listening to.)

Come Away with Me

Norah Jones. Blue Note Records 2002, Audio CD, $7.86

I know people say “Snorah Jones.” But I like her music - I think it’s mature in a good way: music that begs to be listened to, music that’s firmly based in craft (she’s a very fine pianist) and sung with a clear, expressive voice. Yes, it’s subdued and acoustic and, as such, has been embraced by dinner party hosts and easy listening FM stations everywhere. I also like her selections; it’s music that occupies the space vacated by Aretha Franklin (when Aretha lost her bluesy grit sometime in the mid 1970s) as much as it addresses the listening public’s need for a less austere, horsy (dare I say, less ‘white’?) Diana Krall. And all of it is delivered with more than a small helping of country twang because - despite the fact that her dad’s an Indian classical music superstar and world music hero - Norah’s really from Texas.

Blame It On Gravity

Old 97’s. New West Records 2008, Audio CD, $9.00

I love this band. They’ve gone through many changes over the years, but there’s always something musical and inspiring to discover in their records. I’ve never seen them play live, but their 2005 live album, Alive and Wired, suggests they’re a “smoking” live act (as the sleeve notes say).

Old 97’s are from Texas and come from the same ‘cow punk’ school made popular by Uncle Tupelo: a punky form of country rock, sort of the anti-Eagles… like Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young if Neil had been allowed to plug in his guitar. This is country restored by injecting Texas singer/songwriter cred and hardcore’s energy. Their early records contained such spectacular songs as ‘Doreen’ and ‘Barrier Reef’ - by the sounds of it, fanbase favourites and staples of the live show.

Since about 1999’s Fight Songs, main songwriter Rhett Miller (who has solo aspirations - there are two solo records) has steered the Old 97’s towards a more pop-inflected sound. The country roots are definitely there, but the subject matter and melodies are oriented towards an indie-pop kind of sound (think Barenaked Ladies or They Might Be Giants). The resulting sound is like a more energetic version of Blue Rodeo, or a slightly slicker, more modern Uncle Tupelo. Where Wilco rose from Tupelo’s ashes and gained virtually limitless credibility by mixing country and experimental indie rock, Old 97’s chose to blend country punk with pop. They’re an easier listen, much lighter than Wilco, and a little less sleepy than Blue Rodeo (who, I always thought, were the anti-Wilco - at the opposite end of the modern country/rock spectrum). (I should say that I deeply admire both Wilco and Blue Rodeo.)

Enough of the comparisons and historical situating and on to the new Old 97’s record. Blame it on Gravity is a very listenable, friendly indie/pop/country album. Perhaps not their strongest studio effort, but it’s got strong highlights in ‘Dance with Me’ and ‘She Loves the Sunset’ - both with wacky Latin influences, putting an indie spin on Jimmy Buffett in a manner of speaking. ‘The Easy Way’ has a bit more crunch to it, ‘The One’ rocks and ‘Color of a Lonely Heart is Blue’ is an excellent ballad.

I’m less positive about songs like ‘My Two Feet’ or ‘Ride’ - they sound too pop or indie, too run-of-the-mill to me. It’s as if their lack of country twang hampers them, holds them back from becoming everything they could be. This band shines when a thumping double bass provides a solid two-note baseline to twangy story songs.

Old 97’s are a band worth exploring. You’ll find a lot to like. I’d suggest you start with their earlier records, but this new one is certainly worth listening to.

Eagles

Eagles. Elektra / Wea 2003, Audio CD, $12.90

Mirrors on the ceiling | Pink champagne on ice | And she said, “We are all just prisoners here, of our own device.”

This is a confession of sorts. I really like the Eagles. I know I’m not supposed to. It’s just not cool. Mainstream rock circa 1976 is like mainstream country today. In fact, much new country sounds distinctly rockier than the Eagles. After punk, New Wave, the 80s, the 90s and the 00s, this music just doesn’t have a place anymore. It doesn’t fit. Old people listen to it. The Eagles are still touring, as a very expensive nostalgia act. After disbanding in the early 80s, they made two quite successful ‘comeback’ albums, Hell Freezes Over in 1994, and the Walmart-only Long Road out of Eden in 2007. Both were reasonably well received, but in that slightly shocked, “It’s not quite terrible! It’s not embarrassing!” kind of way that ‘comeback’ albums are often reviewed these days. They’re competent, journeymanlike productions full of the latest studio techniques, made by artists past their prime. 60 is the new 30.

But when the Eagles were in their prime, they were immensely competent songwriters, assured, even exciting performers, and they made great records. I was born in 1970 with no older siblings, so I have no ‘original’ recollection of any of this. I discovered them ‘on my own.’ Well, I think I taped Eagles Live off of my friend Marc’s dad’s record collection. Then, a little later, I bought it on tape. For some reason, that was the one I latched on to. Reviewing the band’s history and discography now, I realize that this first foray was very much at the tail end of their career and I was listening to a band that was already no longer particularly cohesive. Maybe they never were. Too many drugs and other trappings of Southern California rockstardom.

Even though it’s inexcusable for anyone who professes to write about music on the web to admit to liking them, the Eagles were of course deeply influential, and their aesthetic (coupled, maybe, with the Beach Boys and CSN&Y) permeates every aspect of what we call country and ‘country rock’ today. Even still-active bands in related genres that are beyond a shadow of a doubt ‘credible,’ like Blue Rodeo, Wilco or Carl Newman’s New Pornographers, are more than a little indebted to the Eagles’ way of marrying country/folk harmonies to danceable, old-style rock ‘n’ roll. And their classic songs, themselves distilled archetypes built from classic country and continuing a journey begun by Gram Parsons, the Byrds, Creedence Clearwater Revival and others, have become models for much of what followed.

Like mid-70s Fleetwood Mac (another guilty pleasure I proudly admit to and whose defense I’ll write up one of these days), the production values of records like Hotel California are fantastically detailed and flawlessly well thought out. I’m not sure whether I should say they demonstrate studio mastery: they probably do, but given the incredibly long months/years these artists spent in the studio, I have to imagine productivity was quite low. Whether that was because the equipment - though expensive and great - was cumbersome to use, or whether there were other factors (dissent in the ranks, drugs, too much free time) is unclear to me. Either way, the resulting records sound like studio magic. They have an unmatched clarity (well, I think there are some ‘matches,’ like the Mac’s Rumours…), an anologue warmth and a very spacious balance. They also have real drama.

The Very Best of Eagles is a very nice package and, I think, worth getting for even the most unconvinced Indie listener who’d never consider listening to the Eagles. To understand why you’re manning the barricades, it’s often interesting to return to before the revolution and be open to things as they were then. If you like Carl Newman’s full harmonies/wall-of-sound approach, you might wonder where that came from. This is where. The other audience demographic (to use labelspeak) that would probably really enjoy listening to this is the ‘urban country’ crowd in small towns all over North America. The reason the Eagles are on classic rock format radio and country stations rarely play them is related to formulaic corporate programming norms (and taxonomies created by music historians) rather than any base in reality.

There’s a certain 1970s superstar fabulousness to what the Eagles may sing about; an imagined hippie America that was, even then, probably an entirely mythical place.

Take it easy, take it easy | Don’t let the sound of your own wheels drive you crazy […]

Or, of course, a little further along in the same number, the always-classic lines:

I’m a standing on a corner in Winslow, Arizona | I’m such a fine sight to see | It’s a girl, my Lord, in a flatbed Ford | Slowin’ down to take a look at me | Come on baby, don’t say maybe […]

These situations and sentiments are both completely familiar and completely strange to us now. That’s because the Eagles (and various country/rock predecessors and cohorts) invented them. As a band, they are perhaps the final truly commercial embodiment of this ethic.

After them, popular music changed forever. It fragmented, renewed itself a hundred times; and with each split and rebirth came layers and layers of judgment about what had come before. Now, in 2008, it’s still ‘common knowledge’ that you’re not supposed to think the Eagles are cool. If you’re over 35, you can maybe get away with listening to them and liking them (in your own car, with the windows rolled up… and maybe with the volume lowered a little when you pull up at an intersection just to make sure nobody outside overhears you). But you’re certainly not allowed to think they’re cool. Given the quality of their music, it’s essentially irrelevant whether they were ever cool. Theirs is a great, lasting body of song that should be heard.

A few weeks ago, on a Saturday morning, I woke up to CBC Radio 1. That’s what my clock radio is set to play every morning at 6. Even though the hosts’ accents are a bit pompous and there’s a daily quota for news items about Stephen Harper’s foreign policy, I prefer these bits of highbrow programming to the canned, predictable and formulaic play lists of corporate music stations.

That morning, they were playing new Canadian music. Still half asleep, I heard a strikingly good song called “These Roads” by Dave Gunning, a singer/songwriter from Nova Scotia. I grabbed my Blackberry and keyed in ‘Dave Gunning’ so as to not miss it :)

A few days later, I went to Dave’s website at http://www.davegunning.com and ordered his latest CD, “House for Sale,” which arrived within the week (I only figured out later that it’s all available at my friendly local HMV, thinking - obviously - that I was onto something cutting-edge and indie :). It’s an exceptionally well-produced, great-sounding album. If I were pressed to peg the style, I’d say it’s somewhere between Blue Rodeo and Great Big Sea with a little Hank Williams Jr. thrown in as seasoning. It’s got a certain East Coast earnestness to it, but also a wonderful melodic clarity and precise, crisp songwriting. The arrangements are well-judged and played.

This doesn’t happen to me often, but this CD has been playing in my car practically nonstop for a few days now. I may just have been in the mood for something with a little twang (I have times in my life where no particular genre in music satisfies me and I meander around aimlessly but frustratedly until something random really resonates and I really get into it). But I’d certainly recommend Dave Gunning warmly to anyone interested in that Canadian folk-country-rock nexus or good singer/songwriters. I think it’s good enough to transcend any genre-skepticism you may have associated with ‘country’ or ‘folk.’
In the meantime, I’ve also bought Dave’s previous album, “Two-Bit World,” and it’s just as good. Very impressed. (Yes, I know the album covers are a little cheesy :)