Dexateens – “Spark”
Posted on | November 3, 2009 | No Comments
1. Counting off time with a thumping muted guitar strum, the Dexateens immediately reference Johnny Cash’s Sun Records sound, though considering the conditions under which “Spark”, from their latest record Singlewide was recorded, John Hiatt might be a better comparison. Hiatt’s landmark Crossing Muddy Waters (one of Ed Jurdi’s favorites) was the first record I remember to be recorded on a porch, and this record from the Dexateens makes two. I heard of their second record, Hardwide Healing, through its producer, Patterson Hood of the Drive-By Truckers. The stripped down sound of Singlewide is not as much a departure from their early roots-rock sound as it is a focused effort to highlight the songs rather than the music. “Spark” is a prime example, with the bare instrumentation laying plain Elliott McPherson’s optimistic words.
2. McPherson’s pitched tenor is immediately reminiscent of Gary Louris from the Jayhawks, a comparison reinforced when John Smith enters singing in unison. McPherson’s lyrics speak of hopeful wishing for a “faraway life” without “so much darkness drawn down to ya”, dismissing the negative with “can’t be a shadow or a spark don’t shine”. The rest of the band shuffles in on the chorus, warming McPherson and Smith’s duet that jumps past future glory to reminisce “that I knew you when”, and assuring that the “time will come around again/ If you stick around and see.” The second verse is more endearing encouragement to “wait all night, the sun is gonna find us”, before moving into an understated solo and ending as it began.
3. McPherson doesn’t have a lot to say in this song other than a few hopeful suggestions to a struggling friend. Luckily, he doesn’t try to hide the simplicity of his song with a lot of instrumentation or extra verses. Some of my favorite songs, like Big Star’s “Thirteen” follow this concept. Lyle Lovett said that in songwriting, “having something to say is the hard part. If you get an idea for a song, then it pulls you along.” The Dexateens succeed by not letting a lot get in the way of a simple, good idea.
Drive-By Truckers – “George Jones Talkin’ Cell Phone Blues”
Posted on | September 9, 2009 | 1 Comment
1. It is quite hard to write a funny song that avoids being cheesy, even harder to write one that has any sense of poignancy. With that as a measure of success, Patterson Hood succeeds on this track from the Drive-By Truckers new odds and ends collection The Fine Print. What sets Hood apart is the stinging wit with which he tells the story, and how he manages to place the event in the context of Jones’ life. John Neff’s humming pedal steel sets the scene as Jones’ hits the gas on the Mercedes and flirts with the afterlife.
2. Hood tells the story of Jones crashing into an overpass (which happened in 1999) as if he was filling George in from the side of his hospital bed, brilliantly switching to tell the other side of the story when “all of a sudden there was just dialtone” to illuminate the fear of the person on the other end of the line. Hood then makes an important connection between the “old days in the honky tonks” and “that last shot of vodka” — the recklessness with which Jones apparently still lives his life. “If you don’t change your ways, my friend” Hood imparts, “You’ll be singin’ duets with Tammy again”.
3. This is the same band that once did an entire double record loosely based on the tragic rise and fall of Lynyrd Skynyrd, and understands the futility of the loss of great talent. Hood sarcastically tells Jones that he could be “another dead genius country star”, and means none of it as a compliment. However harsh his criticism of Jones, Patterson shows his true appreciation of the man when he skips the second line of his chorus hook to juxtapose “my friend, George Jones”. Though he expresses his caution for the aging star, Hood simultaneously realizes that some honky-tonkers never change, and that’s exactly the way it should be.
Album Review: Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit – s/t
Posted on | February 17, 2009 | No Comments
1. I wasn’t sure what to expect from Jason Isbell after the uneven Sirens of the Ditch. I knew he could rock, and I knew he was a disciple of the Muscle Shoals soul he grew up around, but I wasn’t sure how exactly that would filter out away from the Drive-By Truckers. Turns out, he can still rock, evidenced by “Good”, a meat and potatoes banger where he drops the chestnut “I can’t make myself be good, I wish I could/Somewhere my conscience turned to petrified wood”. The soul influence is there too, in “No Choice in the Matter,” with its comfortable horns and sharp guitar. There are a lot more styles too – the swampy blues of “Seven Mile Island”, and the epic, untrue “The Last Song I Will Write”. What I learned to expect from Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit is that he is still finding his fit – from being expected to contribute 3 songs per record with the Truckers to putting out an entire album’s worth, he is growing as a writer, and that’s an exciting thing to see from someone with his pedigree.
2. The addition of ex-Son Volt keyboardist Derry DeBorja keeps Isbell from getting too close to the guitar heroics of his old band. DeBorja adds quick Wurlitzer runs to “Seven Mile Island” and the closer, but his showcase piece “Coda” in the middle provides the perfect transition between two slower songs — a welcome change of pace.
3. Isbell explores the Iraq War, which should be expected from an outspoken, self proclaimed southern Democrat, but expresses it through the lens of a fellow traveler. “Soldiers Get Strange” avoids the emotional punch of Sirens‘ “Dress Blues”, instead focusing on the social awkwardness of returning from a war, and finding a lack of rhythm at home. Following this with “Streetlights”, which mirrors the loneliness and distance he feels out on the road, Isbell shows his own first-hand experience with separation and the strain it puts on relationships. It is easy for an artist to rail against the president or the war, but more interesting to say that he knows what they are feeling.
4. Important to remember is that despite his well-worn voice, Isbell is only 30. He is going to do some growing up right in front of us, which occasionally gives us awkward moments like the key change that disrupts “Good”, or the duds that scattered Sirens of the Ditch. However, Isbell has roots in soul music that continues to endure after four decades, and to see him build onto that history is well worth the growing pains.