The singles that led to Dr. John’s brief mainstream fame
As an artist primarily known for albums and live performance, it’s hard to imagine anyone but the most ardent Dr. John record collectors being able to name more than two or three of his singles. “Right Place Wrong Time†comes easily to the mind of anyone who was around for its original run up the chart to #9. But other than that, what? Well, it turns out that several of Dr. John’s iconic album tracks – “Iko Iko†from 1972’s Gumbo and “Such a Night†from 1973’s In the Right Place – were also released as singles, though neither had the chart success of “Right Place Wrong Time.†So that’s three. And yet, during Dr. John’s stay on Atco and Atlantic, he actually released a half-dozen more singles, all of which are collected here – A’s, B’s and alternate flips, along with several UK- and promo-only sides.
One has to wonder who Atlantic thought was going to play these singles; particularly since they didn’t often differ greatly from the album cuts prefered by FM. “Iko Iko†was trimmed by a minute, “I Walk on Gilded Splinters†was trimmed and split into two parts, and “Wang Dang Doodle†was excised from the Mar Y Sol concert album, but the rest seem closely aligned with the albums. Of interest to collectors will be a few rarities offered here, highlighted by “The Patriotic Flag Waver.†On this 1968 single, presented in the long mono promo cut, Dr. John manages to combine a children’s chorus, “My Country ‘Tis of Thee,†“America the Beautiful,†social commentary and New Orleans funk. Even more rare is Dr. John’s guest appearance, alongside Eric Clapton, on the original 1972 single version of labelmate Buddy Guy’s “A Man of Many Words.
A sad, brilliant gem of early ‘70s singer-songwriter country
Talent and hard work aren’t always enough. They can pave the path, but fame is at the end of a road pockmarked with “timing†and “connections†and “luck.†And though hard luck provides grist for the artistic mill, it can also keep a career from catching fire. Such was the case for Louisville singer-songwriter Denny Lile, whose talent, ambition and artistic brilliance weren’t fully rewarded by the popular recognition they deserved. Other than a song turned into a 1987 Top 10 Waylon Jennings hit (“Fallin’ Outâ€), Lile’s music, including this long-lost 1973 solo album, were consigned to virtual obscurity. His hometown renown brought feelers from New York and Nashville labels, but the sensitivity that made his songwriting so touching also fueled the alcoholism and self-doubt that sabotaged his career.
Lile wended his way through a number of Louisville bands, including Soul Inc. and Elysian Field, before striking a deal for this solo album. At only twenty-two years of age, his voice was decades older, with the weary, wary confidence of someone who’d logged more miles on his soul than his feet. His singing offered elements of Jim Croce’s melancholy, Gram Parsons’ grief, and, unusually in this company, Neil Diamond’s power; but even among those monumental touchstones, it was the candid voice of his lyrics that really stood out. Backed by guitar, fiddle, steel, dobro and a tight rhythm section of bass, drums and piano, Turley Richards’ productions of “Hear the Bang†and “If You Stay on Solid Ground†garnered a well-deserved offer from Hilltop Records; but while Turley was selling the single in New York, Lile signed with the local Bridges label, in a deal that would haunt him to his 1995 death.
Bridges’ distribution agreement with Nashville’s Starday-King did little to help the single or subsequent album gain traction, and both disappeared without much more than local notice. It’s hard to imagine in this hyperconnected, digital age that an album this good could vanish so completely, but Lile’s deal had surrendered both the recordings and his song publishing, and as the accompanying DVD documentary explains, it took more than four decades to untangle the rights and find the tapes. Once revived, the tapes revealed productions that are crisp and spacious – the sort of record that made your mid-70s stereo system shine – and performances that hold listeners in thrall with their confused and wounded heart. And that heart, Lile’s heart, was worn quite visibly on his sleeve as he sings of loving, leaving and being left.
Lile found that fading love doesn’t always fade evenly, and that its slow decay may not even be noticed until realizations are past due and apologies are rejected. Resignation to sad truths permeated Lile’s life, and in turn, his best songs. It led him to recoil from opportunity and sabotage possibilities for success. By the time his solo album was ready he said “Every time I’ve tried to get out of town – with Field, with Soul – something’s gone wrong. Every time I turn around an older musician is telling me his plan for making it. But nothing so far has worked. I think it’s better not to plan.†That feeling of futility suffused his songwriting, even as he spent years honing his lyrics and melodies to perfection.
The productions include many terrific touches, including congas on “If You Stay on Solid Ground†and phased fiddles on “Rag Muffin,†and there are several optimistic songs of love on the horizon (“She’s More to Me Than a Friend†and “After Allâ€) and in full bloom (“Oh Darling†and “Rag Muffinâ€). But it’s the sad songs that will haunt you, especially after you’ve viewed the accompanying biographical documentary. “Will You Hate Me When I’m Gone†offers a prophetic echo as Lile’s daughter speaks of his passing, and “After All†could be a memo from Lile to himself as he sings “so tell me how you’re feeling today, tell me if I got in your way.†As the documentary shows, Lile’s alcoholism often got in his way as the industry tried to help him capitalize on his talent.
Lile had a knack for sabotaging himself, starting with his momentum-killing solo contract, and extending through numerous fumbled opportunities. Worries about his marriage and his duty as a father – a hangover from his parents divorce – kept him from touring, and a chance to play FanFest in 1973 fell prey to one-too-many nerve-calming drinks. Follow-up meetings with Waylon Jennings’ staff also suffered from the rough shape in which his alcoholism often left him. Even an accident that landed him in the hospital with broken bones and a lacerated liver didn’t deter his drinking. His world narrowed to a home studio purchased with the royalties from Jennings’ single, and then to a custom van in which he lived the last few years of his life. He died alone in the van, estranged from his family, at the age of 44.
Blue country soul from talented Raleigh, NC singer-songwriter
Raleigh, NC singer-songwriter Jeanne Jolly has a voice that you could only be born with. A naturally rich instrument whose nuances were brought out – rather than boxed – through classical voice training. There’s nothing mannered in her expression as she soars through the eight new recordings – and seven original songs – of her latest solo release. Produced by her longtime collaborator Chris Boerner and self-released on Jolly’s Ramblewood imprint, the album shows the sort of care and sophistication one can layer into projects that don’t have a major label’s commercial ambitions loitering in the control room.
The eight-piece studio band includes pedal steel player Allyn Jones, keyboardist James Wallace, Bon Iver drummer Matt McCaughan, and Megafun’s Phil and Brad Cook. Together they explore country, soul, and even a bit of Memphis with the horn chart and solace of “Gypsy Skin.†Jolly’s vocals reach past the notes (which for someone of her abilities, are table stakes) to hit every emotion dead center. She soars from intimacy to strength in a single note as she wrestles with the fatalism of “California†and declares her need on “Boundless Love.†The latter’s soulful background vocals – all supplied by Jolly – are particularly mesmerizing.
Garage rock has turned out to be a gift that keeps on giving. The original mid-60s singles movement was recognized in the writings of Lester Bangs and Greg Shaw, and memorialized in 1972 on Lenny Kaye’s Nuggets. The sounds continued to echo ever more scratchily in the follow-on avalanche of Pebbles, Boulders, Back From the Grave, Girls in the Garage and their myriad peers, and the ethos took root among the DIY punk movement of the late-70s. By the early 1980s, a full-blown revival was underway, and over the succeeding decades, the sound has morphed and been reborn around the world.
Ted Hawkins was the perfect college radio artist: articulate, soulful, emotionally powerful and most importantly, an outsider. His hardscrabble life simultaneously limited the commercial growth of his career and defined the authenticity upon which his art rested. What made him a particularly interesting fit for college radio was that his music wasn’t outwardly challenging. It wasn’t discordant noise or expletive-filled speedcore; it was soulful folk music, made with guitars and keyboards, and sung in a style that threaded easily with more commercially popular blues and soul. But that was just the musical surface, and beneath the performance were songs unlike those written in Memphis or Detroit or New York, or even Hawkins’ adopted home of Los Angeles.
With his passing in 1995, his singing voice was silenced, but in the tradition of folk music, the songs he left behind continue to speak his truth. This first ever tribute to Hawkins gathers fifteen performers to sing Hawkins originals, and adds a bonus demo of Hawkins singing an a cappella demo of the otherwise unrecorded “Great New Year.†The performers include many well-known names, including James McMurtry, Kacey Chambers and Mary Gauthier, and like all tribute albums, the magic is in selecting the material, matching it to the right performers and finding interpretations that honor the original while adding the covering artist’s stamp. Co-producers Kevin “Shinyribs†Russell, Jenni Finlay and Brian T. Atkinson have done an admirable job on all three counts.
The collection’s most well-known title, “Sorry You’re Sick,†found a sympathetic voice in Gauthier, whose own battle with addiction conjures a first-hand understanding of the song’s protagonists. Kasey and Bill Chambers give the title track a Hank Williams-sized helpings of anguish and loneliness, and McMurtry’s leadoff “Big Things†is more resolute in its melancholy than Hawkins’ original. The latter includes the lyric “Now I’ve got a song here to write, I stay up most every night, creating with hope they’ll live on forever,†a dream that comes true exactly as McMurtry sings it. While Hawkins’ original performances hinted at twang, his lyrics of longing and loneliness are easily fit to full-blown country arrangements, such as the two-stepping barroom infidelity of Sunny Sweeney’s “Happy Hour.â€
Billy Shaddox’s 2013 solo release, Golden Fate, threaded an Americana base with double-tracked vocals that echoed the country-inflected early ‘70s soft-rock of acts like Lobo, America and Gallery. His second album follows a similar path, mixing unabashed pop with rootsier fare that moves the banjo and guitar forward. Shaddox’s voice is a flexible instrument that sings dreamily on the opening title track, but adds a subtle husk for the shuffle “Feels Like Home.†The latter features stomping bass and a terrific electric piano solo before the accompaniment breaks down and reconstitutes itself.
Punk rockers make great roots music. Well, ex-punk rockers, at least. Having blazed through their 20s and 30s, they have a special appreciation for music that’s slower, quieter and more internal. Michael Rank is one such ex, having released a half-dozen indie albums with Snatches of Pink, and a pair as Clarissa, Rank’s rock years finally ended with 2007’s Love is Dead. It was a fitting title to segue into Rank’s solo career, which would be preoccupied with the end of a long-term relationship. Rank works with a shifting group of North Carolina musical compatriots known as Stag, and self–releases his albums.
His solo work quickly gained fiddle, mandolin and steel, slowly turned down the volume, moved the electric guitars from center stage, and dropped the drums on some tracks. As the arrangements got more sparse, Rank adjusted to the extra room, singing more to himself than trying to muscle his way past the instruments. The results have been increasingly confessional, and by this fifth solo release, almost lost in thought. Rank sings of romantic wounds that haven’t healed, and his downtrodden mood is amplified beautifully by the harmony vocals of Mount Moriah’s Heather McEntire.
The song title wouldn’t lead you to guess this Philadelphia quartet creates DIY guitar, bass and drums pop-rock with modern girl group harmonies. The guitar tone would fit perfectly on Pebbles, Vol. 4, and the slow-motion drum fills are particularly fetching.
The singles that led to Dr. John’s brief mainstream fame
