Crosby Tyler. Don’t Call The Law On Me

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It’s been a long time (eight years actually) since we last heard from Crosby Tyler, one of those American artists who really delve into the roots of Americana – folk, blues, country and all points in between. He’s come across as a hobo, a blue collar singer songwriter and a veritable one man band on previous releases and worked with the likes of Peter Case and Nickel Creek. Don’t Call The Law On Me (featuring Aubrey Richmond (Shooter Jennings) – fiddle, back-up vocals, Jeff Turmes (Mavis Staples) – bass, Dale Daniel (Hacienda Bros) – drums, Mike Khalil-pedal steel, electric guitar, Kimbra West – back-up vocals) is described by Tyler as  “Involving more pedal steel and Telecaster guitars — my most countryish album to date” citing influences such as Buck Owens, Kris Kristofferson, Willie Nelson, David Allan Coe, Waylon Jennings, Johnny Cash, Todd Snyder, Robert Earl Keen and Shel Silverstein. Quite a list but, sure enough, Tyler pulls them all together for what is an engaging, rough and ready listen.

The outlaw element is immediately apparent when the title song opens the album. Tyler’s well worn voice is enlivened by Kimbra West’s harmonies as the band work up a fine country rock sweat on a tale of a drunken fist fight. This rangy and nicely ragged sound, not a million miles removed from Doug Sahm’s rockier moments, is revisited on several songs including Tyler’s plea for world peace on the swinging Peace, Love & Beer and on his observations on the dark underbelly of rural life on Us Black Sheep We Ain’t Like The Others as he sings, “Us black sheep we ain’t like the others, We were born to be rowdy mother fuckers, Our blood’s hustling, dealing, stealing, and some days killing.” Best of all is the shit kicking country rock romp of Bikers, Hippies And Them Honky-tonkin’ Cowboys with its raunchy Telecaster and buzzing pedal steel. Tyler also tosses in a couple of truckers’ songs in the shape of Trucker On The Road and 18 Wheels Of Steel, both of them quite exhilarating.

Slowing the pace, Tyler turns in a brace of powerful songs including the jail house lament of Born A Bad Boy which rides on a menacing beat with Aubrey Richmond’s fiddle sparring with Mike Khalil’s keening pedal steel. That fiddle and pedal steel are then accompanied by some very tasty chicken picking country guitar licks on Stop Being An Ol’ Redneck, a sly dig at modern times – “The radio don’t play no David Allan Coe, It’s just Hip hop and this bitch, And it sure don’t twang my soul, Ye all on Facebook and Instagram.” Finally, there’s the excellent The Family I Never Had which finds Tyler singing about the remnants of a band who almost made it big but whose members are now either dead, in jail, serving in a food store or being Jehovah’s Witnesses. It’s quite brilliant and Tyler’s delivery can’t help but remind this reviewer of Ian Hunter’s Ballad Of Mott The Hoople, although in this case the band in question were Tennessee bred.

Coming out of the blue, this album was a very pleasant surprise. Tyler has a gruffness in his voice which reminds one of John Hiatt and he writes with acuity on American dreams, most of them unfulfilled. Meanwhile, the band is a great little combo and a joy to listen to.

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Crosby Tyler. The One Man Band Rebellion. Bohemia Music.

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LA based Crosby Tyler has proven his affinity for the American folk and blues tradition with his two previous releases, Ten Songs of America Today and Lectric Prayer. On these he was backed by some stellar musicians including Peter Case (who produced Ten Songs), DJ Bonebrake and members of Nickel Creek. The One Man Band Rebellion is exactly that, Tyler on guitar, bass drum and harmonica, a genuine one man band with all songs recorded in one take, no overdubs or studio gimmickry. As he says ” It seemed that nobody knew how to record direct, one-take style, as a one man band. The bass drum posed a problem for most modern day engineers.” Tyler credits producer/engineer Jamie Bridges for capturing the sound he wanted and it has to be said the sound is excellent capturing the old time roughness of spontaneous playing with a sparkling clarity while the bass drum/guitar/harp set up is perfect for Tyler’s hobo folksiness.

The album itself continues Tyler’s mission to document and champion the underdogs, society’s cast offs be they junkies, bikers, hippies, white trash which was evident on Ten Songs. The language is raw (and not radio friendly) but it speaks of the streets with some arresting tales and images and the overall impression is similar to a collection of short stories in the tradition of Willy Vlautin with some Bukowski thrown in (up) for good measure. And while the subject matter might be downbeat the delivery is at times very up with slide driven acoustic blues and gospel tinged campfire songs sidling up against some very fine songs in the manner of Kristofferson and Guthrie.

Tyler opens the album with the scrubbed country blues of Live Or Die featuring an escaped convict who “jumped barbed wire had myself a weekend/I drank tequila sang Johnny Cash tunes/I got my face on the six o’clock news” who’s sitting with a stick of dynamite waiting to die. Merle haggard and Willie Nelson get name checks as they’re playing on the jukebox in the one horse town Tyler rides into on Bikers, Hippies and Honky Tonkin’ Cowboys, a foot stomping portrait of the type of bar Thelma and Louise visited with the denizens described as “you can love them hate them but there ain’t no better crowd.” Red Cross Blues eases on the gas as Tyler fingerpicks his way through the sorry tale of a wounded vet returning home and worried how he’ll be able to face his child. It’s an impressive and affecting performance with a sense of anger hidden in the pathos. This unsentimental portrayal of hurt and damage continues in Us Black Sheep Ain’t Like The Others, a fine raw slice of drug addled lives where “our blood is hustlin’, dealin’, stealin’ and some days killing, Black sheep we ain’t like the others, we were born to be rowdy motherfuckers.” Their poverty is highlighted at the beginning of the song in the line “there ain’t no McDonalds here in Mendocino.” The bleakest moments come in the magnificent Bloody Mary Mornin’ Till I Die where Tyler applies Willie Nelson’s momentary sense of regret to an entire life as his character “is dogging from the law holed up in Little Rock, Arkansas/held up a 99 cent store/something that I drank made me so irate/almost put a granddaddy in his grave.” Unlike Nelson, who’s flying away from his regret, here we have a man who “just shaved my head/ laid all day in bed/watched Porky Pig cartoons” and who appears doomed, never to reach California as “the orange blossoms wither” and he’s stuck until he dies. Powerful stuff indeed.

Tyler offers further snapshots of drug addled, booze ridden captives in Pissed It All Away, Never Trust a Junkie and It Ain’t Easy to Be Me with his voice wearied and road worn while his trusty guitar, drum and harp accompany this bleak roll call of America’s underbelly. All in all a great album.

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Us Black Sheep Ain’t Like No Others

Crosby Tyler. Lectric Prayer.

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Tyler’s last album, “10 Songs of America Today” was an accomplished piece of Americana detailing a multicultural life in the mixed up mess that America finds itself in today. Despite this it was an uplifting album Helmed by Peter Case there was a blue collar sub Springsteen type feel to it but when he toured the UK last year in lieu of Case (who had undergone cardiac surgery) he unveiled another side to his character, a bohemian troubadour steeped in American traditions, the railroad, the carny, the hobo, the latest in a line that included Guthrie, Leadbelly, Ramblin Jack Elliott and Michael Hurley.
Lectric Prayer reflects this side of Tyler, less orchestrated than 10 Songs here he is supported by Sarah and Sean Watkins of Nickel Creek, Don Heffington (Emmylou Harris and Lone Justice) and Sebastian Steinberg (too many to mention). The sound is acoustic with the violin well to the fore. Tyler’s way with a melody and lyric are as strong as on the previous record and he delivers again with his well worn husk of a voice.
In this more traditional setting there is less of the mordant observation apparent in 10 Songs but Tyler is able to delve deep into tradition to produce some fabulous songs. The stringent folk blues of Ooh You’re scarin’ Me and the rickety gospel of Train To Heaven are stompingly good. The introspective Bless That day and Good Ol’ Circus days reflect his ability to capture an audience with nothing but his guitar and talent. Lectric Prayer is a hypnotic groove with wheezy harmonica and a railroad rhythm and the tub thumpin’ Runaway Hellbound Train allows the band to swing merrily.
Overall this is probably a better album than 10 Songs. It should appeal to anyone who thought Springsteen was earthy due to the Seeger Sessions or indeed anyone interested in modern day American folk. Tyler is a cool hobo dude indeed.
There’s a wealth of information on the two albums on Tyler’s website and here’s the opening song Tears of Blood