I’m just back from having brunch with
Sheila at one of Victoria’s finest diners (Floyd’s) and ready to tackle our
review. One of my favourite things about
Floyd’s are the staff, who are always friendly, genuine and interesting
people. Today we got a line on a couple
of new bands from a new employee, Sam. Sadly
cannot remember the name of the recommendations right now, but fortunately Sheila
wrote them down in her notebook, so when she gets home I can fall down the Youtube
well and check them out.
I loathe the radio (I see no
reason to spend my time waiting for one in four songs I like, when I can just
listen to exactly what I want by playing my own music). If you loathe the radio, the best way to pick
up on new bands is word of mouth from other equally enthusiastic music fans.
Or you can read my blog, but I
guess that’s happening right now, so hardly a useful tip.
Disc 468 is…Car Wheels on a Gravel Road
Year of Release: 1998
What’s up with the Cover? A gravel road, which I can only assume will soon
experience (or has recently experienced) some car wheels. Not much of a house at the end of the road
but such are the downsides to the rustic country life.
How I Came To Know It: For most people, this album is their first exposure
to Lucinda Williams but I came to “Car Wheels” a bit later. I had heard it was considered her finest
record, so I bought it early on, but only after I already owned “Sweet Old
World” and “Essence.”
How It Stacks Up: Since my last Lucinda review she’s put out another
album, so I now have ten albums by her.
“Car Wheels on a Gravel Road” is one of my three favourites. Oddly, I’ve reviewed the other two already
(“World Without Tears” back at Disc 161 and her self-titled album at Disc 37). “Car Wheels on a Gravel Road”
is maybe even the best of the bunch, but it depends
on my mood. With the dice gods seeing
fit to deliver all three of the best albums first, it is all downhill from
here, I suppose, but it will still be a lovely ride.
Rating: 5 stars
Some
would say that the only Lucinda Williams you really need to have is “Car Wheels
on a Gravel Road.” Those people are of course, idiots. Every Lucinda album is great, and the two I previously
reviewed are every bit the equal of “Car Wheels.”
That is
saying a lot, though, because this is as fine an example of alt-folk music you
will hear. For all my love for “World
Without Tears” and her self-titled album, I will freely admit that “Car Wheels”
is the album I would recommend as the gateway to Lucinda.
The
record begins with “Right in Time,”
where Lucinda shows off her sexy, sultry side (she does sexy and sultry as good
as anyone alive). She is never afraid to
expose herself for a good song, and “Right
in Time” which is about the longing, release, and afterglow of a sexual
encounter is both tender and visceral at the same time. Best line:
“I take off my watch and my
earrings
My bracelets and everything
Lie on my back and moan at the
ceiling.”
It’s a
good thing the album starts on such a harmonious note, because Lucinda Williams
more often than not sings about relationships in trouble. Lucinda’s voice takes on a hurt that is as
strong as anything you’ll hear from a Blues master.
On the
title track Lucinda references Loretta Lynn playing on the radio as part of an early
childhood memory of moving. On “Concrete and Barbed Wire” her tone is
strongly evocative of Loretta, who is an obvious inspiration. Singing high and plaintive, with her southern
accent coming out strong, Lucinda tells the story of a woman’s love, so strong
it makes her delusional, as she wonders why it can’t break her lover out of
prison. After all, the walls holding him
in are ‘only made of concrete and barbed
wire.’ It’s a sad, broken, junkie
logic that makes the song strangely heroic.
Later on
the album, Lucinda reminds us that there are far more tragic barriers to
relationships than prison walls. “Can’t Let Go” is an up-tempo blues song
about refusing to admit a failed relationship is finished. The guitar work on the song is a brilliant
bit of playing that reminds me of early John Lee Hooker.
“Greenville” tells the story of a woman letting her man go, after finally
realizing that he is no good for her (maybe it’s the same guy from “Concrete and Barbed Wire” after he gets
paroled). “Greenville” is sorrowful and resigned as Lucinda effectively tells
the bum she’s with to get out of town:
“Empty bottles and broken glass
Busted down doors and borrowed
cash
Borrowed cash, oh the borrowed
cash
Go back to Greenville, just go on
back to Greenville.”
Of all
the great and tragic relationship songs on the album (and there are many) my
favourite is “Metal Firecracker.” I think of this song as the lowest common
denominator at the end of a relationship:
“Once I was in your blood
And you were obsessed with me
You wanted to paint my picture
You wanted to undress me
You wanted to see me in your
future.
“All I ask
Don’t tell anybody the secrets
Don’t tell anybody the secrets
I told you.”
Because
when it’s really over, that’s all you can ask of your ex; keep the secrets you shared
with each other. Keep faith with
something beautiful, even if that something doesn’t even exist anymore. “Metal
Firecracker” is a fitting book end to “Right
in Time”, with Lucinda singing once again about being undressed, but this
time instead of it being triumphant and trusting with her in control, now it is
vulnerable and awkward, and in the hands of another.
The
album’s production is a perfect match for the open honest vocals, featuring
big, loose guitar playing that I found reminiscent of early Johnny Cash. All of the players are amazing, and there is
a softness in some songs, and a jangle in others, depending on what the tempo
and the topic call for. Sometimes it is
bluesy, sometimes folksy, and sometimes a little rock and roll, but it always
knows what to do when and in what proportion.
Lyrically, musically and emotionally there are simply no missteps on “Car
Wheels on a Gravel Road.”
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