Geoff Baker. Where are You Now?

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A Californian songwriter Geoff Baker came to our attention a few years back with a sparkly entertaining EP that had a fine mixture of quirkiness and melancholy about it. Three years later this full-blooded album appears, upping the melancholia on a selection that often refers to loss and sadness. Baker says of it
“This album starts between midnight and dawn, on a dark street in Berlin in the fall of 2001, days after the death of a close friend and partner in musical crime, seven sheets to the wind, stumbling home, guitar in hand, Nearing your front door a few minutes later, out of breath and out of paper, you find an empty pack of cigarettes on the sidewalk and write, on the only side of the foil that will ever let you write, “Where are you now?” It’s half honest and half rhetorical.
In short, this became an album about people you miss, places you’ve been, things that went wrong, and things you did wrong. But it’s also about how powerful memories are, where to look for the good, and how no thing, no place, and nobody that ever mattered to you can ever really be lost. “
The first thing to strike one here is the overall sound of the album. Despite his stateside status the majority of these songs have an autumnal English feel to them Paul Simon did this in the sixties and Baker follows in his footsteps. While he plays the majority of the instruments himself he’s assisted on a few songs and when the cello parts, played by John Mescall appear there is a definite whiff of Nick Drake in the air. Although there are some uptempo songs (the title song, Girl From Kinnelon and Continental Drift) even these maintain the overall theme of loss.
The woody tones of the opening song One step Further Than You have Ever Dared To Go sets the scene. Its rippling guitars and husky vocals invite the listener in and set up themes that are revisited. On Barbwire Fences in Kansas adds a touch of Americana with some plaintive pedal steel from Bruce Kaphan. A meditation on memorials there’s a touch of Jay Farrar’s style about it and Baker captures a fine sense of desolate locations and sadness. The sense of loss and loneliness culminates in the unadorned Not To Worry (Even Jesus) where Baker sings accompanied only by a solo guitar on a beautiful song with lyrics that are baffling, almost haiku like. “Light that I caught beating on my window, Was you and telling me to move along, You were saying not to worry, What has been can never be gone, Not to cling so fiercely to the earth, When I don’t know what anything is worth.”
The effect is mesmerising. Baker follows this up with a stunning song, The Middle of Nebraska, which starts off with just guitar accompaniment and gently builds up with mandolin and then fiddle and cello cosseting the song. Although this is the highpoint of the album there are several other gems. All The Same has a definite Drake feel in the arrangement while In the First Week of April is an old fashioned narrative ballad concerning a veteran of the Gulf wars who relives his traumatic memories. The closing song When I Was Young I Never Wanted The Sun seems to point to a feeling that runs through the album, a sense of displacement, of being out of joint when Baker finds himself living outwith his native California. On his website he notes where he was when he write these songs, places like Amsterdam, Cork, Berlin, Kansas and New Jersey. This might go some way to explain the wintry feeling to these songs and although it might be tough for Baker to forego the sunshine state if his sojourns are responsible for these beautifully crafted songs then here’s to him spending more times in colder climes.

Website

The Middle of Nebraska

Jim Dead. Ten Fires

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What is Americana? The simple answer might be that it’s music (or literature, art) that refers to America, in particular to that continent’s (primarily the US of A) heritage. So a broad church with country, bluegrass, jazz, swing and god knows how many others getting a shout in. But are, for example, Kings of Leon Americana? U2? Jack Johnston? The answer of course is yes and no. Or rather, it depends. It depends on the singer, the song, the listener, the situation and for an awful lot of folk in the end it doesn’t matter. And perhaps therein is the rub. For if it does matter to you then you probably know the answer already.
Americana is a feel, an intuition, a knowledge of and respect for, well, Americana. It has depth, history, tradition. Tradition that harks back to the great immigrations that peopled the USA, that recalls the natives who were displaced by the newcomers, the poverty and violence experienced by the Negro slaves, the violence of the civil war, the culture that grew out of all of these. The tradition continued in modern times, the civil rights struggles, the protest songs, the discovery of their own culture by the late sixties generation which fed into the No Depression generation of the eighties which in itself reached back into the distant past also.
It’s easy for anyone anywhere in the world to be captivated by Hollywood cowboys, Lonnie Donegan records or books by Cormac McCarthy. Dig deeper and chances are you’ll find Americana, a fabulous land with a fabulous story. And best of all you don’t have to be American.
Jim Dead is a man who I reckon has done his fair share of digging. So much so that he inhabits a mythical Americana hometown, Deadsville. Deadsville is a mixture of all of the above however Dead has sculpted it into shape. A dust blown dread place with frontier justice, where gunslingers are replaced by guitar slingers, where the blues are amplified and dragged from the past and shot into Technicolor glory.
Calling up a new version of his band The Doubters consisting of Craig Hughes on guitar, James Duffin on bass and Tommy Duffin on percussion and harmonica, Dead offers up twelve songs that portray Deadsville as a scary place to be. Telling stories of lynchings, drugs and death the band walk throughout the landscape with a powerful swagger. Several of the songs here reach epic proportions both in length and delivery. The combination of Dead’s and Hughes’ guitars conjure up visions of Crazy Horse and the Drive By Truckers. While there are quieter moments such as the opening song Silence has No Place Here, Hotel, (with a touch of Willie Vlautin about it) and My Heavy Heart, My Aching Bones, there remains a sense of doom, of hopelessness in them. However the big hitters here are when the band plug in. The loping Bone Blue Moon has the feel of hank Williams backed by Creedence Clearwater, the song does indeed feel as if Dead is howling at the moon. Untitled has some spooky, almost psychedelic tinges, when Dead repeats the refrain Baby, Baby there is a sense of what could have been if Led Zeppelin were an American band. Hughes’ playing on this epic is spectacular, full of menace, coiled, ready to kill. Mean–Eyed River Snake is a mean tale of the death of a girl as retold by a confused, possibly pilled up youth who may have seen too many drive in horrors. It ends in a confusion of babbling while Hughes’ guitar rumbles in the background. The Hallelujah Revolver perhaps tries too hard here to achieve a proper dynamic, a gospel song from hell it’s the one song where the feel is muddied, Having seen a gobsmackingly good live version done by this line up of the band it’s possible we were spoiled beforehand. Honours must go to the stand out song here however. Jim Landstrom Must Die is a killer track. A deceptively jaunty riff leads into a sorry tale of a jive travelling salesman who gets lynched after selling bottles with “stars that fell from from the sky.” Peckinpaw in parts, “ hang him up by his legs, slit his throat so the streets turn ruby red” the band really gel with some tremendous bass playing and a cracking vocal performance from Dead.
If this album was by a crew from the south west of the USA chances are it would be hailed to the heavens. As it is it’s perhaps the best example I’ve heard so far of a local band setting up residence in that fabled Americana. Definitely one to buy.
website

Jim Landstrom Must Die

Tori Sparks. Until Morning/Come Out of the Dark

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I reviewed Sparks’ 2009 album The Scorpion and the Story for Americana UK and strangely enough some of that review is quoted in the press notes for this album. According to the quote praise was, indeed, high. Digging into my archives I noted that the quote was very selective and I had really only considered the album as good rather than the second coming. Anyway, I concluded the review by suggesting that she was at her best when the songs were less cluttered, unadorned, and even more strangely she’s taken my advice (as if!).
Having relocated from Nashville to Barcelona, she retains many of the musicians who have graced her earlier efforts. Will Kimbrough and Fats Kaplin among others reappear and the album is again produced by David Henry. As on “Scorpions” Sparks has a loose concept to hang the songs on. Here she’s released the album as two discs, “a study in dichotomy” she says. Until Morning is supposed to represent her darker side while Come Out of the Dark is the “dawn that follows the darkness.” Try as I might I fail to see this “dichotomy” and in the long run it’s perhaps better to sit back, relax and enjoy the songs as they come. So casting aside all pretensions what have we got?

Essentially Sparks is a very good songwriter with a powerful voice and a cooking band. The second disc does offer a brace of tender ballads. The travelogue that is Tennessee Line tugs while Come Out of the Dark is a tremendous song of longing, of someone waiting, almost till the end of the time, to consummate a love. On the same disc Judge a Book is a real humdinger. Classic pedal steel and twang guitar rumble and wail throughout this turbo charged monster that has a wonderful cinematic feel about it.
The first disc opens with Rain (The Widow), a pile-driving howl with a magnificent percussive drive and some wild guitar squalls while Mama has an almost Hispanic beat to it. The Hispanic influence reappears on the one cover here. Quizas Quizas Quizas is a 1940’s Cuban song and Sparks delivers it with a fine sense of sensuality and menace.

Website

Judge a Book

Old Dollar Bill. Lucky From Kentucky.

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When I wrote about the latest Wilders’ gig in Glasgow I noted that they had appeared here so often recently they were becoming akin to locals. Interesting then that they have indulged in a spot of musical miscegenation, teaming up with Edinburgh duo Old Dollar Bill for this release. Furthermore it’s a bit of a menage a trois as another popular visitor, namely Woody Pines is also involved.
Before we get too confused what we have here is a one track CD single, the title song from the forthcoming Old Dollar Bill album, their second. Before you ask “why should I buy a single with one song that’s going to be on the album anyway?” I’d point out that, in this day and age of digital downloads it’s an actual physical artefact and comes with some very attractive packaging and for the price of a pint is well worth getting.
As for the song itself Old Dollar Bill and the tourists (as they’re described in the notes) spend almost six minutes on a splendidly loose limbed picaresque tale of a “whisky drinking, finger pickin’ bluegrass man.” The bass playing of Nate Gawron and Dobro from Phil Wade certainly fill out Old Dollar Bill’s sound. Woody Pines introduces the song and Stephen Clark and Ike Sheldon swap vocals. Like Hank Williams without the heartbreak it’s good time music and it sounds as if they had a whale of a time recording it. The enthusiasm certainly spills out of the speakers. It’s a tremendous performance and akin to having a jam session in your room.
Available at gigs and here it’s a great opportunity for fans of all three bands involved to get a piece of the action. You can hear it on the Old Dollar Bill MySpace page.

Rod Picott. Welding Burns.

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Picott is for want of a better term, a “blue collar” singer songwriter. Working in the same field (more appropriately factory but that doesn’t really fit) as Springsteen in his more contemplative moments he celebrates working life. While he’s never set the heather on fire his albums have always been dependable slices of weary lived in tales delivered in a laconic style. Welding Burns will be no surprise to anyone who’s familiar with his work, some co-writes with Slaid Cleaves, harmonies by Amanda Shires and some fine picking and playing from some superb Nashville cats.
The 10 songs here are all fine examples of Picott’s work, vignettes, little slices of life. The title song tells of the inability of ordinary folk to move on from their inheritance. Delivered over a Southern blues groove with some fine fiddle from Shires it’s a powerful performance. Black T-shirt continues in this vein as a high school drop out sees the only way out to be robbery. The criminality and the southern vibe continues in 410.
Still I Want You Bad is an achingly heartfelt love song addressed to a partner whose bad habits don’t matter. Will Kimbrough adds some fine guitar here (as he does throughout). The album’s themes of loss, poverty and disillusion are gathered together in the opening song, Rust Belt Field. As the factories of the likes of Detroit closed the workers are left, bereft of self-respect and scrambling for any chance of a quick buck. Picott portrays this with a degree of empathy and a wonderful delivery. All in all a fine listen and a powerful indictment of the plight of some ordinary folk in the USA of today.
A regular visitor to these shores, Picott has a Glasgow date pencilled in for October.
website
Rust Belt Fields

Tim Grimm Thank You Tom Paxton.

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When it comes to talking about Greenwich Village folkies of the sixties (as I’m sure many of us do on many occasions) several spring immediately to mind. Dylan, of course, Phil Ochs, Ramblin’ Jack Elliot, Dave van Ronk,Tim Hardin, Fred Neil and even the Clancy Brothers. Tom Paxton was in there also and for a number of people he remains second only to Dylan in terms of talent and popularity. Somehow however it’s rare to see him namechecked these days while the likes of Neil and Ochs are constantly “rediscovered.” Perhaps it’s because he remained a darling of folk clubs and was never really picked up by a hip crowd after the early seventies. Nonetheless he remains an important part of the folk revival jigsaw and throughout the sixties and up to the present day he has written many memorable songs which are part of the standard folk repertoire in addition to a multitude of topical and protest songs, sometimes hard hitting, sometimes humorous.
Anyway, Tim Grimm, a fine writer in his own stead and who after years of listening to Paxton got to know him offers here 12 Paxton songs ranging from 1964 to 2007. While Paxton’s best-known song “Last Thing on my Mind” gets a wonderful airing the remainder of the songs are less well known. The album opens with “Rumblin’ In The Land,” a song from Paxton’s first album. Backed by banjo and guitar Grimm delivers a muscular performance very much in the vein of the early sixties, a great start. There’s a terrific rock groove to “Bishop Cody’s Last Request” and the satirical “General Custer” gets a solid and swinging bluegrass delivery. The band continue to rock on “My favourite Spring” which is a vivid account of a Korean war veteran’s bitter sweet recollections of a failed baseball career, a tremendous delivery here. Paxton’s more tender moments are faithfully recalled on several songs. “Whose Garden Was This” is a poignant early ecological song while “All Night Long” is enhanced by the fine harmony vocals from the Bowman sisters. Another song from Paxton’s first album, “Fare Thee well, Cisco,” a tribute to the then recently departed Cisco Houston stands out with some fine accordion and a delivery that sounds a little like John Prine in his prime. The deeply sardonic ”Forest Lawn” about a soldier’s final resting place is given a Leonard Cohen type waltz style. The highlight however is indeed the song that most listeners would recognise. The cover of “Last Thing on My Mind” is superb. With an arrangement that is ever so slightly reminiscent of Tim Hardin’s If I Were A carpenter, especially on the drums, Grimm revives a great song with a great deal of affection and respect while stamping his own authority on it.
An album certainly for Paxton fans but even if you don’t know his songs this album stands up as a collection in its own right.
website

Rumblin’ In The Land

Marybeth D’Amico. The Light Inside.

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They just keep on coming. Marybeth D’Amico is yet another of those singer/songwriters who might never become a household name but who can deliver as fine an experience as many of her better-known peers. Her first album Heaven, Hell, Sin and Redemption, as its title might suggest was an exploration if the seamier and darker side of life. On this second album she tackles weighty subjects such as the Berlin Wall (she lives in Germany) and the aftermath of natural disasters such as earthquakes and storms. When she gets down to relationships she looks on the dismal side, her characters appears to be fixed, unable to change their destinies which on the whole don’t bode well. Recorded in Texas with producer Bradley Kopp (Eliza Gilkyson, Jimmie Dale Gilmore) and featuring a fine band behind her several of the songs surge strongly with soulful organ and crunchy guitars very much in Kathleen Edwards’ style. Chief of these is Don’t Look Back which is a terrific song with a radio friendly sound. Inside Out is more reminiscent of that other Williams, Lucinda, bluesy with some fine slide guitar work from producer Kopp, D’Amico sings of someone trying to salvage some honour following a break up, putting on a brave front but inside failing miserable, retiring to her room to cry. Powerful stuff. The jaunty acoustic picking of Reborn lifts the mood of the album although it appears to be about a woman saved from suicide by the birth of her child. No matter, this brief shard of light is swallowed by the following Der Grenzer, the song about the Wall. Taken at a funereal pace with martial drumming this is a modern folk song that chills. D’Amico remains in folky mode with Star Crossed, another song that sounds as if it was forged many years ago.
Overall then is a very strong album and it’s almost guaranteed that the likes of Bob Harris will be playing it soon.

Website

Don’t Look back

Des Horsfall’s Kuschty Rye. The Good Gentleman’s Tonic.

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When the late Ronnie Lane left The Faces in 1973 he surprised everyone with his next move. Forming a band, Slim Chance he took to the road in a caravan and set up shows in a tent. A world away from the rock’n’roll route his former band mates Rod Stewart and Ronnie Wood pursued, Lane’s vision of a bucolic English entertainment briefly captured the limelight before he tragically succumbed to MS.
Enter Des Horsfall. Thirty years on he’s trying to capture the spirit of Lane’s endeavour on a trilogy of albums that he hopes will reflect the original Slim Chance releases. Naming his band after a Lane song, Kuschty Rye, which befitting Lane’s attempt to emulate a gypsy lifestyle was a Romany term that loosely translated means a “good gentleman, someone in touch with the Romany ways, Horsfall gives us an album of jaunty acoustic singalongs which do have a louche swagger about them. Rather than offer a straightforward album of cover versions the Lane connection consists of covers of Careless Love and The Poacher with eight self penned songs that share the loose, slung together attitude of Slim Chance. With assistance from members of Slim Chance including Benny Gallagher, Charlie Hart and Steve Simpson Kuschty Rye deliver a rootsy, acoustic based run through of blues, folk and Cajun influenced songs that approach the likes of Ron Kavana. The most successful of these is No-one Talks.
Although it’s a nice conceit to offer a tribute to Ronnie Lane Horsfall goes one further in two respects here. The presentation of the album approaches deluxe proportions. Horsfall poses with a portrait of Lane and a copy of Anymore for Anymore on the cover of a handsome hard backed case and booklet packed with information, a tale on how Ronnie influenced Des and bizarrely a golden key and a sample of Yorkshire tea, the eponymous good gentleman’s tonic (all is revealed in the booklet).
More importantly Horsfall tells the tale from the booklet on the last piece on the album. Called the Unwinese Mix he reaches back into the past when Lane was a Small Face and Stanley Unwin, professor of gobbledegook (or Unwinese), a nonsense language, narrated The Tale of Happiness Stan on the album Ogden’s Nut Gone Flake. With the assistance of Unwin’s son, John narrating he reprises his album ending with The Poacher. With this he shows that Lane, despite the rock trappings always had a foot in English highways and byways. God knows what he has planned for the follow up albums.

http://www.myspace.com/deshorsfall

No-one talks

Midsummer Roundup

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Catching up with some discs.

Rory Ellis. Perfectly Damaged.

Ellis is an Australian who’s released several albums of his particular take on rootsy rock. The first thing one notices here is his voice. A huge, deep throated booming voice, it dominates the proceedings. However Ellis is no slouch in the writing stakes either and several of these songs are top rate while the remainder are all finely crafted tales of traditional subjects. At times the influence of Kris Kristofferson is heard while PC Love comes across like a frisky J.J. Cale. While there are a couple of ballads these are less successful, partly due to the unsuitability of his voice to express tenderness. What it is suited for is the wide open soundscape of Jesus Lane, a banjo driven epic that sounds as if its from a Western soundtrack written by Lee Hazlewood. A big chunky guitar sound scrubs throughout while Ellis soars high. Banjo features again on the jaunty Waiting For Armaguard, told by a down on his luck guy contemplating robbing a security truck and on The Gravy Train, a rollicking romp with some tasty guitar licks. Street Angel House Devil snakes along with some fine lap steel guitar from Jim Hackett as Ellis recalls a nasty neighbour from his childhood. Finally The Gift is a great country romp based on a drugs bust in Devon, a great topic and delivered in a fine humorous fashion.
Ellis is touring the UK in June and July, dates on his website

The Gravy Train


Giles Robson and The Dirty Aces. Crooked heart of Mine.

Blabber’N’Smoke doesn’t usually review straightforward blues albums and those that are sent are generally fairly poor modern copyists replacing feeling with technique. That said the blues is a strain that runs throughout Americana whether it be the rural sounds of the pre war era or gritty roadhouse belters as delivered by the likes of The Blasters. So when this album tumbled into the nest hopes weren’t high especially after reading the ringing endorsement from Chris Evans. It was a pleasant surprise to find that Robson and his band deliver their blues with a deft touch, a degree of feeling and an insouciant sense of swing. While there are some piledriving moments such as on Stick To The Promise and Cooling Board these never tumble into 12-bar boredom. Robson and his harp lead a tremendous sounding band who are slick and tight, he sings without any mannered blueisms, at times the early Feelgoods are recalled but there are elements here also of the mighty Fall and local heroes The Primevils. Regarding his harp playing Sonny Boy Williamson the second and Kim Wilson appear to be influences and it’s tempting to say that The Dirty Aces might be the UK’s answer to The fabulous Thunderbirds. Of the songs Devil Led Evil, Magic Tricks and the opening The Mighty Incinerator are standouts. Sad to say Blabber’n’Smoke has to agree with Mr. Evans.

website

The Mighty Incinerator


Bow Thayer and Perfect Trainwreck Bottom of the Sky.

The exotically named (at least for us in the UK) Bow Thayer hails from Vermont, New England and has released a slew of album over the years. He’s a buddy of Levon Helm and suitably his band deliver a pot pourri of modern Americana with a bunch of influences ranging from The Band, The Grateful Dead, Wilco, The Allman Brothers, Little Feat and the Drive by Truckers with a touch of Tom Petty. That said Thayer is no copyist, his songs all sound original and at times one is astonished that he has not achieved a higher profile. With Thayer on vocals, guitar, mandolin and banjo he is ably supported on drums, bass, keyboards and pedal steel. The addition of a Moog synthesiser and Mellotron adds a fine texture to several of the songs. Ranging from the country stomp of Your heart Is Not Your First Step with banjo to the fore to the opening visceral blast that is Buffalo Joe, heavy on the organ and piledriving drums Thayer covers all of the bases. Dawning is a tremendous shuffle that drinks deep from early seventies country rock with gliding guitars, while the title song flows majestically and betrays a pop sensibility that is almost McCartneyesque.
website

Bottom Of the sky


Amy Belle. Lost In the Shortcut

Finally a few words on Amy Belle. Tipped for stardom after Rod Stewart selected her to support him after seeing her busking she fell foul of record company shenanigans. Here however is her album, five years later. While we wouldn’t recommend it wholeheartedly there are some moments that show promise. The opening song Didn’t I Say is a fine bluesy shuffle not to far removed from the likes of Sheryl Crow however there is a pop gloss throughout that shows that she still hankers after that star spot. A rendition of I Don’t Want To Talk About It is rather poignant in the circumstances.

website

Didn’t I Say

Pokey LaFarge and the South City Three. Middle of Everywhere

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Firm favourites of Blabber’n’Smoke, Pokey LaFarge and the South City Three have never let us down, live or on record. Listening to or seeing them live is a kick, a reminder of how good and reaffirming the power of music can be. On the face of it they could be classified as yet another bunch of “old time” revivalists like dozens of others whose albums regularly arrive here at Blabber H.Q. While we have a great respect for and enjoy rootsy bands who are keeping old traditions alive, sometimes in an exhilarating fashion, Pokey et al are heads and shoulders above them when it comes down to sheer joie de vivre with an exuberance that might best be experienced live but which informs the recordings also. I’ve yet to meet anyone who hasn’t fallen for them after the first song or two.

A pocket dynamo LaFarge commands the stage, a born showman indeed. On record he writes songs that seem to have been in the catalogue forever such is their immediate familiarity. Middle of Everywhere is chockfull of songs that could have the listener scrambling through their record collection seeking the original version to no avail however as Pokey has written all of this fine album. In the liner notes he points out that St. Louis, his hometown, is musically speaking at the centre of the south, the mid west, the city and the country. The album bears witness to this being a melting pot of his oft noted influences including ragtime, swing, country blues and early jazz. Less bluesy than its predecessor, Riverboat Soul, Middle of Everywhere leans more towards western swing on many of the songs with Adam Hoskins’ lap steel playing adding a nice touch. The guitar playing throughout is excellent with Sunny Side of The Street and Shenandoah River in particular graced with some fine solos. The addition of cornet and trombone on Feels So Good turns the song into a neat jazzy vamp as Pokey sings about his “dancing girl.” As befits a young man girls are on Pokey’s mind and on Mississippi Girl he sings their praises on a superb ensemble piece. While the good time feel of Weedwacker Rag and Drinking Whiskey Tonight are both guaranteed to have audiences on their feet the best song here reminds one that Pokey can write fine reflective pieces (such as Beat Move and Shake It’s Arkansas). River Rock Bottom ebbs and flows seductively, reminiscent of Dan Hicks in his prime it’s a tender and sad hymn to the blues.

Throughout the album The South City Three perform stellar duties. Hoskins’ guitar embellishes Pokey’s playing perfectly while Joey Glynn’s upright bass adds a fine natural depth. His skirmishes with Ryan Koenig’s washboard on several songs are a treat while Koenig’s harmonica is always tasty. Over all this Pokey sings with confidence, at times crooning, other times hollering yet hardly ever breaking sweat he is in command throughout, oozing charisma and style.

Pokey and the band are currently touring the UK so do try to catch them. Dates on the website with a Glasgow show on 25th June at the Classic grand.

Mississippi Girl