A gourmet’s selection of blues, country, soul and rock covers

Paul Thorn is a Mississippi bluesman whose earlier career as a boxer still echoes in his gruff growl. Though well-known for his original, biographical songs, Thorn’s sixth album is an all-covers affair. Singing the songs of other writers is a complex task, one that reflects on Thorn’s understanding of songwriting craft as well as his visceral experience as a listener. He poses this set as an opportunity to “take a break from myself,” but his selections from others’ pens say a great deal about his musical roots, influences and tastes. Most of his picks are sufficiently obscure to avoid even registering as covers for many listeners; but these are interpretations rather than explanations, and Thorn’s fans will marvel at how easily he draws these songs into his personal orbit. This is a mix tape, but one in which the mixer sings the songs rather than having lined up other people’s performances on a C90.

Thorn’s voice has a clenched, raspy edge that variously brings to mind Dr. John, Jon Dee Graham, Willy DeVille, John Hyatt, Lyle Lovett, Randy Newman, Joe Cocker, Tom Waits and even a bit of Louis Armstrong. He doesn’t sound like any one of them, but your ears will catch passing associations as he work through a wide-ranging catalog drawn from Ray Wylie Hubbard, Buddy Miller, Elvin Bishop, Allen Toussaint and others. Each recitation balances flavors from the original recordings with Thorn’s own sound, retaining the signature rolling rhythm of Lindsey Buckingham’s early “Don’t let Me Down Again” while lowering its youthful freneticism, magnifying the blue side of Free’s “Walk in My Shadow,” and giving Muscle Shoals’ legend Donnie Fritts’ “She’s Got a Crush on Me” the soul vocal it really deserves.

Thorn finds something interesting to say with each of these covers, zeroing in on the fright of Hubbard’s “Snake Farm,” lending a heavier church-vibe to Miller’s “Shelter Me Lord,” and giving Bishop space to play guitar on a tightened-up version of his own title track. One of the album’s best tracks, “Bull Mountain Bridge,” is also its one thematic cheat. Originally recorded as a demo called “The Hawk,” the song was retitled (and shouldn’t be confused with songwriter Wild Bill Emerson’s “Bull Mountain Boy”) and given, with Delbert McClinton pitching in on vocals, a superb southern rock treatment. Thorn compliments his songwriting peers by wishing he’d written these compositions, and pays his debt for their listening pleasure by sharing these songs with his own fans. [©2012 hyperbolium dot com]

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New songs, western swing classics and contemporary pop covers

Willie Nelson spent nearly two decades with Columbia, starting with his 1975 breakthrough (and first chart topper), Red Headed Stranger. He bounced around a number of majors and indies through the ‘90s and ‘00s, and now returns to the Sony fold via the company’s Legacy division, an imprint known more for its vast array of catalog reissues than for new music. But as a heritage artist, it’s a good fit, as Nelson revisits material from his catalog, chestnuts from the ‘30s and ‘40s, covers of recent pop songs, and new titles from his pen and that of his son, Lukas. The results are vital, and surprisingly coherent, if perhaps not always tightly focused. Covers of Pearl Jam (“Just Breathe”) and Coldplay (“The Scientist”) intermingle with Western Swing (“My Home in San Antone” and a terrifically jazzy “My Window Faces South”), ‘40s weepers (“Cold War with You”), and newly written originals.

The album’s guests include Merle Haggard, Jamey Johnson, Billy Joe Shaver, Ray Price, and in a bit of stunt-casting, Snoop Dogg. Nelson’s voice is more lined with frailty than in his prime, but his idiosyncratic phrasing plays well with the cracks in his tone. He’s joined by his son Lukas on eight of the album’s tracks, which is a bit much of the junior Nelson’s higher, more nasal voice. More impressive are Lukas Nelson’s original songs, including the father-son duet “No Place to Fly” and the painful memories continually resurfacing in “Every Time He Drinks He Thinks of Her.” The elder Nelson’s two new originals include the honky-tonk “Roll Me Up and Smoke Me When I Die” and the western gospel “Come on Back Jesus,” each describing an element of Willie’s faith. Nelson’s still raising hell, albeit in a quieter, more personal way, and drawing on more than fifty years of writing and singing, his music is aging gracefully. [©2012 hyperbolium dot com]

Willie Nelson’s Home Page

Idiosyncratic collection of ‘70s and ‘80s obscurities

A better title might have been “I Swear I Heard it on the Radio,” given that the obscurities gathered here are the province of local scenes, in-the-know college radio DJ’s, late-night MTV viewers (or those clued in to HBO’s Video Jukebox) and crate diggers. They constitute the maddeningly ephemeral song fragments in a million memories of low-charting singles, turntable hits that failed to crack the charts, and locally distributed singles that hadn’t the promotional muscle to gain national consensus. Most of the charting hits here only made the middle of the Top 100, and others, like the brilliant “Prettiest Girl” from the Boston-based power-pop/punk Neighborhoods, are rarely anthologized collectors’ items whose musical brilliance far outstripped their labels’ reach.

The selections mix synth-pop, prog-pop and power-rock. The set includes two Hollies covers (“On a Carousel” from Raleigh, NC’s Glass Moon, and “Pay You Back with Interest” from Canada’s Gary O), a take on the Spinners “I’ll Be Around” from the Los Angeles-based What Is This, and a pop-rock cover of the Supremes’ “Stop! In the Name of Love” by former Stories front man, Ian Lloyd. Several of the collection’s hit makers, including Walter Egan, Jim Capaldi (of Traffic) and Greg Lake (of Emerson, Lake & Palmer) are represented by minor singles that only brushed the bottom half of the Top 20, and Lloyd delivers a pre-Bryan-Adams-hit version of Adams’ “Lonely Nights,” with Adams and his songwriting partner Jim Vallance providing the backing.

This is a wonderfully idiosyncratic collection that seems to tour the darkest reaches of its anthologizer’s musical memory. In addition to the early ‘80s synth- and prog-rock, the set list stretches back to Fanny’s 1974 glam rock “I’ve Had It” and Alvin Lee and Myron LeFevre’s 1973 country-folk version of George Harrison’s “So Sad (No Love of His Own).” Listeners are bound to find at least one long-lost favorite among the rarities collected here, with the indie-released Neighborhoods single (previously available digitally only on the out-of-print 12 Classic 45s) being the freshest fish-out-of-water amongst the ‘80s pop tunes. [©2012 hyperbolium dot com]

Sweden’s answer to Rockpile and the Blasters

It’s no accident that Sweden’s Refreshments have crossed paths with both Billy Bremner (for Both Rock ‘n’ Roll and Trouble Boys) and Dave Edmunds (providing backup for Back on Track and the live A Pile of Rock), as they are the Swedish heirs to the same roots as Bremner’s and Edmunds’ Rockpile. Starting as a ‘50s cover band in 1990, the Refreshments still feature plenty of classic rock ‘n’ roll riffs, fat sax by Micke Finell and terrific New Orleans rhythms, but they also add some country twists in the guitars and the superb piano playing of Johan Blohm. Their thirteenth studio album includes songs that echo both Edmunds and the Brinsley Schwarz-era work of his former mate Nick Lowe, and a big helping of the American music that fueled the Blasters and NRBQ.

The band’s original songs, mostly penned by bassist Joakim Arnell, include Jerry Lee-styled rave-ups, R&B rockers, stomping country two-steps, and the terrific Everly-inspired ballad “By Your Side.” Arnell writes clever songs in the Chuck Berry vein, essaying cars, women and the qualities of good women best described as features of high-end cars. They even take Berry’s “It’s My Own Business” out for a rollicking second-line spin. Much like Rockpile at their peak, the Refreshments are simultaneously nostalgic and vital. Their music is infused with the echoes of rock’s seminal years, but the rhythms, melodies, harmonies and themes remain timeless and alive in their highly competent hands. [©2012 hyperbolium dot com]

The Refreshments’ Home Page

Astonishing stereo re-masters and demos of Brill-era vocal group

Blue Cat was a subsidiary of the Red Bird label started in 1964 by legendary Brill Building songwriters Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller. The parent label cashed in on the girl group craze with the Dixie Cups and Shangri-Las, but Blue Cat also cracked the Top 10 with the label’s second single, “The Boy from New York City.” Written by saxophonist John T. Taylor, the song had a jazzy swing that gave the then-recently rechristened Ad Libs a distinct sound. The New Jersey quintet featured Mary Ann Thomas singing lead and a smooth male quartet providing backing vocals. A second single, “He Ain’t No Angel,” was penned by Red Bird’s house team of Jeff Barry and Ellie Greenwich (and previously waxed by the Lovejoys for Tiger), but label turmoil stalled the single on the bottom rungs of the Top 100. Two more singles, “On the Corner” and “I’m Just a Down Home Girl,” fared even worse and led to the group’s departure from Blue Cat.

Judging solely by the charts, the Ad Libs were a four-single, one-hit wonder; but as this twenty-three track collection shows, there was a lot more to their catalog than found broad public acclaim. In addition to the group’s four A’s and B’s, Real Gone’s gathered a clutch of unreleased tracks, alternate versions and a cappella demos that give full testimony to the group’s vocal talent and their production team’s ability to craft memorable melodic and instrumental hooks. The B-sides are anything but throwaways, with “Kicked Around” sporting an incredible jazz bass line, sly organ bed and maddeningly memorable triangle figure behind Thomas’ thirsty flower vocal. “Ask Anybody” is a dance tune touched by doo-wop, blues and gospel, and the male leads on “Oo-Wee Oh Me Oh My” and “Johnny My Boy” show the group had more than one vocalist capable of holding the spotlight.

The finished track “The Slime” went unreleased, and, sadly, was deprived of the opportunity to ignite a worldwide dance craze based on melting like butter down in the gutter. The set’s other unreleased master, “You’ll Always Be in Style,” adds a touch of Latin soul. The set’s most arresting find, however, are seven mono a cappella demos that starkly highlight the group’s melding of doo-wop and vocal jazz. In addition to demos of singles sides (including a take on “The Boy from New York City” that shows the hit single’s more relaxed tempo to have been the right choice), four additional titles are featured, including the holiday-themed “Santa’s on His Way.” The five alternate takes include a version of “The Boy from New York City” with a distractingly present trumpet riff, and the disc is filled out with seven tracking sessions that provide a rare peak inside the studio.

Reissue producer Ron Furmanek has re-mastered many of these tracks (1-4, 6-9, 18-30) in stereo from the original 3- and 4-track master session tapes. At times, particularly on the singles, the separation and clarity of the vocals and instruments is disconcerting to ears trained by original mono singles heard through AM radio. That said, even with handclaps and backing vocals panned hard left and right, the soundstage still hangs together reasonably well, even when individual elements (such as the honking saxophone on “He Ain’t No Angel”) stand a bit forward. The tracking sessions are interesting, but fresh re-masters of the original mono singles would have been a more long-lasting treat. Real Gone’s four-panel slipcase includes a 12-page booklet with lengthy liner notes and an introduction by the Manhattan Transfer’s Tim Hauser. [©2012 hyperbolium dot com]

Country-tinged guitar-and-bass swing and jazz

The two gentlemen in question, Andy Bean on four-string electric tenor guitar and Fuller Condon on upright bass, hark back to the same era of swing that fueled Dave and Deke, Big Sandy and others of the West Coast revival. The Gentlemen are influenced by jazz and country, but with a bon vivant humor that has them worrying about watery drinks, luring females into bathing suits with a pool party, and upgrading to two-star accommodations. They don’t employ the hipster lingo of Louis Prima or Slim & Slam (though their riffing on “Tikka Masala” is a clever update of “Cement Mixer (Puti Puti)”), but still evoke a similar mood of high jive. Bean has an old-timey sound to his voice, and borrows guitar stylings from gypsy jazz, western swing and other pre-war delights; Condon’s bottom end is both melodic and percussive, adding a second instrumental voice and keeping dancers on the swinging beat. Laid down on monaural tape with vintage microphones and no digital processing, the recording holds the vitality of performance, rather than the precision of multi-track construction, complete with imperfections and even bits of tape hiss. Mostly, though, it holds the energy and nostalgia-tinged verve of two talented and well-read musicians. [©2012 hyperbolium dot com]

A masterful country album from Marty Stuart

Marty Stuart is a living, breathing link to the heart and soul of country music. His voice is authentic, his songs weave new threads into the existing historical tapestry, and his band is as sharp as the Buckaroos in their prime. This latest album demonstrates how strongly Stuart connects to the headwaters and multiple tributaries that have flowed in and out of country’s main branch, with music that is possessed by Bakersfield sting, Memphis rockabilly, Nashville steel, Bluegrass harmonies and Appalachian strings. It’s a fitting follow-up to 2010’s Ghost Train, and a nice addition to a string of albums, starting with 1999’s thematic The Pilgrim, that’s included country, gospel, bluegrass and honky-tonk.

It’s no accident that Stuart’s pictured playfully taunting a young lion cub on the album cover, as he was that very cub upon arriving in Nashville in 1972. He may have grown into the role of historian and elder statesmen, but his intellectual knowledge of country music never obscures his first-hand experience. The wide-eyed desire he originally brought to Nashville is still evident as the band blazes through the title track. Their frenetic twin guitar lead, twanging steel and faith-tinged backing vocals are as hot as the song’s beat, and they step it up another notch for the Larry Collins-Joe Maphis styled guitar duet “Hollywood Boogie.” Across electric waltzes, steel ballads and country rockers, Stuart sings of the hard climb, heartbreak, failure and fleeting success that greet Nashville transplants.

Stuart threads his theme through both his originals and a couple of covers. The wizened “A Matter of Time” might have originally been about a lost lover, but here it reads about the loss of a muse, and a solo cover of Porter Wagoner & Dolly Parton’s “Holding on to Nothing” suggests a disillusioned singer letting go of his Nashville dream. Stuart characterizes his arrival in Music City as the downbeat of his life’s journey, but that trip hasn’t always been a straight line. Stuart faced down his demons more than a decade ago, but he still carries the pain of wasted years having once turned Nashville into a lonely place. The album closes on a somber note with Stuart and Hank III joining together for Hank Sr.’s “Picture from Life’s Other Side.”

Over the past decade, Stuart’s music has glowed ever brighter with a renewed fealty to country’s roots, the hard-earned perspective of a 40-year career and the gathered knowledge of an historian. He’s surrounded himself with likeminded players who’ve got the background and chops to cut loose without cutting themselves off from tradition. There’s precious little music like this being made anywhere, but particularly little in Nashville’s recording studios. As Stuart writes in his superb liner notes, “Today, the most outlaw thing you can possibly do in Nashville, Tennessee is play country music.” The marketing suits on music row may not care, but playing country music is just what Marty Stuart and His Fabulous Superlatives do, and do very, very well. [©2012 hyperbolium dot com]

MP3 | Tear the Woodpile Down
Marty Stuart’s Home Page

Appalachian rock ‘n’ roll, country, blues and soul

More than a decade after her 2000 debut, Nanahally River, singer-songwriter Chelle Rose delivers a sophomore set of gritty country blues and rock. The raw power of her voice brings to mind the early recordings of Lissie, but with a swampy backwoods feel that brings to mind Lucinda Williams, Bobbie Gentry and Holly Golightly. Rose is a child of Appalachia and the Smoky Mountains, but her music is touched more by blues than bluegrass. Her songs are rooted in the rural experience of mountain men, snakes in the road (both literal and figurative), impending doom and haunting memories of untimely death. She adds husk to the addictive desire of Julie Miller’s “I Need You” and tears her ex- a new one as she reestablishes her music career in “Alimony.” Of the latter she’s said “I tried to quit music, but it just wouldn’t quit me.” The album closes with Elizabeth Cook adding a harmony vocal an acoustic song of a mother’s loss and faith, “Wild Violets Pretty.” The last really shows how deeply Rose is willing (and able) to dig into herself for a lyric. Producer Ray Wylie Hubbard provides support with dripping gothic blues, rowdy country rock, atmospheric folk and Memphis soul, a mélange that Rose calls “Appalachian rock ‘n’ roll.” After hearing her out, you’re not likely to argue. [©2012 hyperbolium dot com]

MP3 | Alimony
Chelle Rose’s Reverb Nation Page

I wrote ‘Little London Lou’ in memory of a wonderful girl whom I was very fond of. Louise Cattell died aged 21 on 2nd March 2011 from an accidental overdose of ketamine. Her spirit was one that lifted everyone who knew her. Louise’s family want her spirit to continue fueling you and everyone you know, by sharing her story through this song and to raise awareness about the dangers that face young people today.

When you BUY this single, ALL PROCEEDS will go to The Angelus Foundation (Angelusfoundation.com), a charity dedicated to raising awareness of the dangers of legal highs and club drugs.

A beautiful eulogy, but one written much too early.

The Soho Hobo’s Home Page

A too-brief set of ‘60s and ‘70s Carole King demos

Demos are an industry currency that fans don’t often get to hear. They’re an audio notebook in which songwriters sketch their vision, either for themselves, or more intriguingly, for those to whom they wish to sell songs. In the case of a singer-songwriter like Carole King, there are both kinds of entries in her notebooks – writer’s demos that were inclined towards the sound and style of a potential client and initial renderings of songs that King would sing herself, including five tunes written for her 1971 breakthrough, Tapestry, and another, “Like Little Children,” written in the mid-60s but recorded 30 years later for the film Crazy in Alabama.

An earlier, unauthorized, volume of King’s demos and early solo recordings, Brill Buliding Legends: The Right Girl, gave a glimpse into her years as a Brill Building songwriter. But that volume fell short of its full promise, by including demos for songs that were never commercially recorded or never broke on the charts. Though interesting in their own right, these lesser works said more about the hard work that goes into getting a hit single than they did about the development of King’s best-known titles. Not so with this authorized volume of King demos, which not only offers up a few key Brill Building-era demos, but extends into her solo work as a successful performer.

The three major Brill-era hits included here in demo form are the Monkees’ “Pleasant Valley Sunday,” Bobby Vee’s “Take Good Care of My Baby” and the Everly Brothers’ “Crying in the Rain.” The first is surprisingly different from the hit single, with King’s folk-rock demo more wistful and forgiving than the skeptical and mocking tone of the Monkees take. The second, on the other hand, seems to anticipate Bobby Vee’s style, and though the single is more fully orchestrated, the mood and hooks were all there in the demo. Others, such as “(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman,” reveal their foundations – in this case, the gospel chords of King’s piano and the freedom of her vocals – even more clearly in these stripped down versions.

As with The Right Girl, this volume is only a small taste of the demos that led to King’s catalog of hits and terrific album tracks. The Monkees’ obscure “So Goes Love” (recorded for, but not released on, their first album) is no substitute for “Take a Giant Step,” “Sometime in the Morning,” “Star Collector” or “The Porpoise Song,” and demos for hits by Gene Pitney, the Cookies, Little Eva, Steve Lawrence, Freddie Scott, the Chiffons, the Drifters, Maxine Brown and many others, not to mention most of King’s terrific solo work, are still to be heard. Rumors have swirled as to the song publishers blocking release of King’s demos, but with this peek inside the vault now public, it’s time for whatever else that can be found to see the digital light of day. [©2012 hyperbolium dot com]

Carole King’s Home Page