Tag Archives: Americana

Blitzen Trapper: Furr

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blitzentrapper_furrWinning combo of 60s/70s pop, rock and Americana

There’s no denying the retro influences on Blitzen Trapper’s fourth album, their first for Sub Pop, but even with cues taken from Neil Young, Badfinger, Brewer & Shipley, Mott the Hoople, Hearts & Flowers, the Kinks, and pre-disco Bee Gees, this is a decidedly modern album. Tightly self-produced, Blitzen Trapper’s electric pop stretches across ‘60s rock and folky Americana, ‘70s keyboards and synthesizers, and a variety of clever production touches. The wordplay of “Gold for Bread” may remind you of Bruce Springsteen’s “Blinded by the Light” (or just about anything by The Gourds), but throughout the album the imagery is more dreamy than surreal. The man-to-wolf-to-man transformation of the title track, for example, offers an allegory of growth from innocent child to rebellious adolescent to responsible adult that’s both fantastic and comprehensible. Eric Early’s lyrics drifts in and out of sleep, alternately aware and unknowing of his dreamtime imagination. The album’s two most straightforward tunes are also its most highly contrasting, with the ebullient “Saturday Night” running headlong into the dead-end confession “Black River Killer.” The lyrics throw up some memorable poetic images, but it’s the melodies, instrumentals and vocals that set the album’s hooks. [©2009 hyperbolium dot com]

Hear Furr
Blitzen Trapper’s MySpace Page

Two Cow Garage: Speaking in Cursive

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twocowgarage_speakingincursiveGravel voiced punk meets Americana

If cowpunk had steeped somewhere less urbane than Los Angeles, and if its progenitors had brought along the raw amperage of their punk backgrounds, it might have sounded more like this Columbus, Ohio band. Vocalist/songwriter Micah Schnabel sings in a hoarse gargle that’s several steps past “raspy” or “roughhewn,” and his self-reflective lyrics are backed alternately by hard-charging electric rock and acoustic country-folk. He’s a cynical sort, mocking his powers as a musician with the opener’s lyric, “So if it lights you up, and if it turns you on / I will sing to you all your favorite songs.” An ambivalence surfaces in the relationship of “Skinny Legged Girl,” with a love letter in one hand, a poison pen in the other, and his ambivalence extends to music itself, compelled to keep writing, but feeling “it was arrogant to think from the start, you were the only backyard Dylan with a folksinger’s heart.” Schnabel’s gravelly delivery is more Tom Waits than Bob Dylan, and a few of the songs, such as “Glass City,” offer the rising tide of an E Street Band epic. The band’s Americana influences are heard in the jangly rocker “Wooden Teeth,” the emotional ballad “Not Your Friends,” the twangy “Swallowed by the Sea” (with bassist Shane Sweeney providing the low lead vocal), and the exceptional acoustic autobiography “Swingset Assassin.” In addition to Waits and Springsteen, the Replacements and Uncle Tupelo provide obvious antecedents; less obvious are Big Star, the Goo Goo Dolls and even Bryan Adams, and contemporaries like Drag the River and the Drive By Truckers. In the end, Schnabel’s voice is too unique for such simple comparisons, his lyrics too intimately autobiographical, and the band’s combination of fiery punk rock and earthy Americana quite unlike any one of their forerunners. [©2008 hyperbolium dot com]

MP3 | Brass Ring
Two Cow Garage’s MySpace Page

Chris Knight: Heart of Stone

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chrisknight_heartofstoneDarkness in the rural heartlands

Having found himself artistically on 2001’s Pretty Good Guy singer-songwriter Chris Knight shook off the major label production of his 1998 self-titled debut and wallowed in his dark visions of rural life. His follow-ups, including a startling album of pre-debut auditions, The Trailer Tapes, have stuck to a similar format of rootsy guitar-based productions backing unblinking chronicles of blue collar America. Knight is often likened to Steve Earle, and the hopelessness in his songs brings to mind Earle’s Guitar Town-era work; but where Earle wrote of kids trapped by the stilted imaginations of limited experience, Knight writes of adults trapped by circumstance and situation. Earle’s protagonists sense there’s something better but don’t know what, while Knight’s are taunted by better lives that remain out of reach.

Knight opens the disc as a touring musician whose road-warrior fortitude has become a callus (“I ain’t home ‘til I leave you behind”) and on “Hell Ain’t Half Full” he’s a hell-bound meth dealer who thinks God’s given up. Knight’s characters carry forward the disappointments and failures of broken childhoods, escaping from dysfunctional relationships but unable to erase their scars. The few rays of light that penetrate Knight’s bleakness are more faith than realization. He sings of a coal miner’s flight from his ancestral home, counting on the belief that “hope runs a straight line down this mountain road” to the ocean. He exults in the opportunity to rekindle a relationship on the up-tempo “Maria,” and takes cold comfort in the scar that’s replaced the relationship of “Miles to Memphis.”

Dan Baird (ex-Georgia Satellites) returns to the producer’s seat, having sat out Knight’s 2006 release Enough Rope, and the sound returns to the determinedly paced, sinewy Americana the two first crafted for Pretty Good Guy. It’s a perfect setting for Knight as the tempos match the relentless extinction of hope in his characters. Given that Knight practiced his writing for several years before recording his debut, it’s unsurprising that in a half-dozen albums his lyrical voice has remained relatively steady. What’s impressive is the wealth of characters and stories he continues to dig up and render in such palpable, three-dimensional emotions. [©2009 hyperbolium dot com]

Ryan Delmore: The Spirit, the Water, and the Blood

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ryandelmore_thespiritMusically fetching Americana  worship service

Despite Delmore’s credentials as a worship service leader and his record label’s ministry-through-music charter, you’d be setting off in the wrong direction in comparing this to anything Christian Contemporary. As a musician, Delmore is full of rootsy twang and organ soul, and he sings in a powerful, hoarse voice that’s full of emotional cracks. Think Tom Petty, Ryan Adams or Mark Erelli. The album opens with the ragged vocal of “Mercy” giving an initial sense of dissipation, but the lyrics reveal the singer basking in renewal rather than wallowing in desperation. The drawn-out refrains of “Hallelujah” conjure the allusive biblical glimpses of Leonard Cohen’s like-titled song, but the cry here is one of forgiveness. Delmore’s testimony is powerful, but even with superb Americana sounds to grab secular ears, the monothematic glorying of God will quickly wear out its welcome from the unconverted. Songs of praise resonate powerfully with believers, but they resound as blind faith outside the circle of the saved. Unlike the then-recently-converted Dylan of Slow Train Coming, Delmore appears here fully formed as a religious being and fully steeped in the liturgy. The result is an album of praise that’s anchored to its own faith, rather than the joys and travails of life from which religious conviction is born. Delmore’s music is compelling, as is his voice, but secular listeners will be disappointed by the lack of insight into the experiential roots of his religious beliefs. These songs preach well to the converted and will catch the ears of many others, but the only converts will be those already teetering on the edge; perhaps that’s part of Delmore’s musical mission. Worship leaders who want to bring these songs into their services will find lyrics and chords on the enhanced CD of this release. [©2008 hyperbolium dot com]

MP3 | Mercy
Ryan Delmore’s MySpace Page

Hayes Carll: Trouble in Mind

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hayescarll_troubleinmindWitty, arch and funny hard Texas country

Carll continues to make good on the deep Texas songwriting talent demonstrated on two previous albums. For this third release he moves onto the Lost Highway label, and picks up the considerable backing talents of Fats Kaplin, Darrell Scott, Will Kimbrough, and Dan Baird and others. Better yet, producer Brad Jones and engineer Mark Addison spend that instrumental firepower in support of Carll’s vocals and his witty, incisive lyrics. While some may prefer the more primitive sound of his earlier albums, in retrospect they sound like demos for this more fully realized outing.

The restlessness of Steve Earle courses through Carll’s narratives and keenly observed portraits, but so does the irascible spark of Charlie Robinson and the tongue-in-cheek pathos of rock musician Ben Vaughn. The latter’s wit is mirrored in the story of love lost to salvation, “She Left Me for Jesus” and the performing musician’s litany of horrors, “I Got a Gig.” Carll’s drawl collides with the freewheeling blues and nasal syllables of Dylan’s “Rainy Day Women #12 & #35” on “A Lover Like You,” with the word ‘lover’ drawn as if Tennessee Williams’ Maggie the Cat sang ragged country blues. Carll stays sly, though his lyrics aren’t always joking. “Don’t Let Me Fall” pleads for forgiveness and support in the wake of moral failure, and his cover of Tom Waits’ “I Don’t Wanna Grow Up” is both petulant and preternaturally knowing. The rasp in Carll’s voice can express resignation, dissipation, irreverence, cynicism and ire, but it always seems to be balanced with a wounded poet’s optimism. The break-up of “It’s a Shame” is mourned for the hope of what could have been rather than the loss, and Tom Waits’ romantic Bowery sentiments are translated into rural images on “Beaumont.”

The album’s cover art reaches back to Merle Haggard’s early Capitol albums, but Carll’s not as inconsolably self-deprecating as The Hag, and the twangy mix of instruments covers more ground. There’s plenty of fiddle and steel, but also baritone guitar, six-string electric leads, harmonium, banjo and mandolin, and it’s all deftly woven into backings that are modern in reach but traditional in effect, practiced in their looseness and anchored by the emotional abrasion of Carll’s voice. Fans of Van Zandt, Earle, Nelson, Kristofferson, Shaver, Waits, Bruce & Charlie Robison, and Chris Knight will find much to love here. [©2008 hyperbolium dot com]

Hear “She Left Me For Jesus”

Autumn: Velvet Sky

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Thoughtful singer-songwriter folk-pop-Americana

This Austin, TX-based singer-songwriter opens her sophomore release with an original mid-tempo song whose confessional folksiness could make you think of Jewel, even more so for the slight hitch in the high notes of her voice. But as a piano-based composer recording in Nashville there’s more weight to her arrangements, and gospel vocal inflections steer this to a soulful realm. That soulfulness is reinforced by lyrics that form an inner-monolog of human isolation, spiritual faith and sought-after redemption. Heady stuff for a pop shuffle. Similarly intriguing is the panorama of obliviousness, opportunism and fatalism drawn in the trio “Trees,” “We Made the Spirits Move” and “Trains I Missed.” In the first, a man is seen as forsaking love’s call, in the second, romantic opportunity is seized with unnaturally script-like precision, and in the third, the path along life’s many choices leads to the prize. That latter pair, along with the album’s production, was crafted by Texas hill-country singer/songwriter Walt Wilkins, who also adds his voice to the duet “Spirits.” The upbeat “Higher” is given a crossover polish that sounds almost out of place here, as it’s the complex imagery and confessional vocal of Wilkins’ title tune, a duet with Ryan Turner on the original “Eagles,” a slowly building cover of Patty Griffin’s “Nobody’s Cryin’,” the haunting piano-and-voice “Paint,” and the searching closer, “Lesson Never Learned,” that will stick with you. [©2008 hyperbolium dot com]

Autumn’s Home Page

Holly Golightly & The Brokeoffs: Dirt Don’t Hurt

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Lo-fi folk, country and blues: the new Richard & Mimi Fariña?

UK lo-fi roots goddess Holly Golightly’s second release with the Brokeoffs (a “group” comprised of her associate Lawyer Dave on bass, vocals, percussion and guitars) is an amalgam of country, blues and folk that sputters and clanks like a well-worn jalopy on a dusty backroad. The opening “Bottom Below” scrapes along on string bass, dobro, banjo plucks and percussive slaps seemingly struck by a string tied to a one-man band’s ankle. Lawyer Dave sings the low end of the duets in a gruff voice that’s balanced by Golightly’s girlish harmonies; imagine Richard & Mimi Fariña squaring off with Tom Waits in a junkyard full of percussive implements. The likeness to the Fariña’s is especially close on the sing-song folk-blues “Burn Your Fun” and the harmonica-led blues-grunge “Gettin’ High for Jesus.” The duet turns to sassy Johnny & June call-and-response with “My 45” and old-timey on the banjo-led “Accuse Me.” The country-blue weeper “Up Off the Floor” is delivered with a catatonic vocal of pain that evidences the results of the lyric’s vindictive kiss-off, while the comeuppance of “Indeed You Do” is pushed along by a tenuous rhythm and peels of slide guitar. The duo’s ballads, including “Slow Road” and “Indeed You Do,” crawl slowly, the former evoking the strutting march-time accents of Cabaret’s “Wilkommen.” The album’s covers include the jump blues “I Wanna Hug Ya, Kiss Ya, Squeeze Ya,” rendered here as a scratchy electric blues, and the traditional mountain tune “Cluck Old Hen” in one of its many lyric variations (all of which seem to threaten the hen for its lack of production), and read as an insomnia-inducing nursery rhyme. The entire album was recorded in a few days between tour stops, resulting in a set that’s finished without being polished. It’s the sort of run-through attributable to principals that have developed a partnership as they’ve deeply internalized their musical influences. The lo-fi aesthetic is a less conspicuous element here than on Golightly’s earlier works with Thee Headcoatees and others, adding a patina of sparseness that suggests history rather than hurry. [©2008 hyperbolium dot com]

Listen to “Bottom Below”
Holly Golightly & The Brokeoffs’ Home Page
Holly Golightly & The Brokeoffs’ MySpace Page

The Youngers: Heritage

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Chiming, tough country-rock Americana

This Pennsylvania quartet’s second album opens with a combination of country, rock and ringing guitars so deft you’d be hard-pressed not to hum the verses and sing the chorus their second time around. The lyrics of “Heartbreaker” lash out in the best wounded-but-prideful pop tradition, dragging out the words in enervated late-night heartache. The worn spirit remains for “Heritage,” but as the ire of a railroad driver’s frustration with an overtaxing, unresponsive government. The song is driven by the drums’ steady march beat, with electric guitars adding country-rock grit. Recorded at Johnny Cash’s cabin studio (with John Carter Cash producing), the lyrics provide a contrast to the elder Cash’s nostalgic songs of railroading, yet still match the man in black’s respect for the underclasses. The driver of “Truck Driving Man” is also wearied, fatalistically worn from a working man’s pains.

Several of the album’s songs suggest open plains and Western landscapes, similar to the Sadies’ recent New Seasons CD. A farmer’s armed defense of his land in “In the Morning” could just as easily be set a hundred years ago as today, and the gambling drifter/drunk of “Highway 9” could be found wandering a stretch of asphalt or a dusty trail. Bassist Randy Krater steps to the microphone for the country waltz “The Ride,” a song whose allusions intertwine a dying love, suicide and the light of the hereafter. More traditional are the honky-tonk broken hearts of “Our Little Secret” and “Right all the Wrongs,” the latter a weepy waltz that opens with the drunken, a capella moan “I guess I closed the bar again tonight.” Tears rain down from the pedal steel of Ralph Mooney and fiddle of Laura Cash.

The bluegrass edged “Big Ol’ Freight Train” sports the more traditional theme of a love taken away, though one has to wonder why the singer’s mate was taken away on a freight train. Maybe she’s a brakeman or hobo. Two of the band’s influences are paid straightforward homage, starting with the tumbling, introspective poetry of “Seat 24” and its melodic reinterpretation of “Mr. Tambourine.” This is followed by the E-Street styled “Middle of the Night,” replete with wordy, rapid-fire rhymes and a Clarence Clemons inspired sax solo. Each feels like a writing exercise that ended up too close to its source, but they’re a minor distraction from the band’s original material, Todd Bartolo’s engaging vocals and the band’s muscular Americana sound. [©2008 hyperbolium dot com]

Listen to “Highway 9”
The Youngers’ Home Page

Mark Erelli: Delivered

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Moving Americana folk-country and rootsy rock

Over the past nine years Mark Erelli’s explored a variety of Americana sounds, including singer-songwriter folk-country, western swing, nineteenth-century traditional tunes, and mid-American roots rock. His latest collection of folk and roots rock songs focus on family and society, including intimate first-person discoveries and broader political and social commentaries. The disc opens with “Hope Dies Last,” detailing the endless stream of horrific news with which we’re beaten on a daily basis. Sung intimately, Erelli sounds like Paul Simon worn down from the battles of younger years, provoked by a president who’d “rather talk to Jesus than to anyone who disagrees,” and pragmatically stifling his anger in the face of the endless bad news cycles. The same combination of confusion and resignation threads through “Volunteers” and its harrowing look at a weekend guardsman’s entrapment as a full-time soldier in Iraq. Sung starkly to an acoustic guitar, the pained vocal wails that close the song provide a live wire abstract of the lyrics’ horrors. The guitars toughen on “Shadowland,” as does Erelli’s critique of the extra-legal measures employed in the war and the resulting depletion of our moral foundation.

Several songs explore isolation and spirituality. The traveling musician of “Unraveled” looks home for salvation, and the questioning “Not Alone” travels between breezy images of nature, sleepy small town Sundays, and the heart of the city. The music climbs sympathetically from acoustic folk to full-blown country-rock and back. More peaceful is the first-person anticipation of a believer’s reward in “Delivered,” and its comfort for those left behind., and more contemplative is the working stiff of “Five Beer Moon,” dejectedly downing a six-pack and starting at the sea. Contemplating his small-town circumstance he finds himself trapped in a place where freedom is only in the imagination. Things turn upbeat with the rootsy rock of “Baltimore.” Its romantic longing and on-the-road lyrics (“I got a pawnshop ring and a yellow rose bouquet, honey that I bought in a cheap truck stop”) couple with shuffling drums and whistling organ to echo the character of Steve Earle’s Guitar Town. Erelli turns personal with two moving songs of fatherhood. In “Man of the Family” he steps into his late father’s shoes, wondering if he’s ready for the responsibility and realizing he’d been left all the tools he’ll need; in the lighter “Once” Erelli luxuriates in the love of fatherhood. Whether drawing from personal experience or creating fictional scenes, Erelli’s songs remain grounded with human emotion in every performance. [©2008 hyperbolium dot com]

View a video of Mark Erelli performing “Volunteer” here.

Mark Erelli’s Home Page