CD Odyssey Disc 589: Cowboy Junkies

Well damn it, I’m sick. I pride myself on rarely being sick, and I even subscribe to the theory that you can ward off sickness by simply ignoring it for a while.  That strategy worked for about five days, but today I gave in and took some cold medication.

Luckily when you take medication rarely it works really well (that’s another one of my theories – I’ve got plenty of ‘em). I call the experience “the velvet tunnel.”

Alright, back to ignoring the ague, and on with the review.

Disc 589 is….Black Eyed Man

Artist: Cowboy Junkies

Year of Release: 1992

What’s up with the Cover? As the old saying goes, if you cut a hole out of roses, you’ll just get a man’s head, and if you cut away a man’s head you’ll just find more roses.

OK that isn’t a saying, but it could be and it seems to be what’s happening here.  Whatever is happening, I like this picture.  Beautiful Etruscan colours and a jarring concept made somehow gentle, not unlike the music of the Cowboy Junkies.

How I Came To Know It: When I was reviewing “Pale Sun, Crescent Moon” back at Disc 267 I learned that there was an album between it and 1990’s “The Caution Horses” and that album had a Townes Van Zandt cover.  I spent about six months looking for it and then gave up and ordered it on Amazon.

While there is nothing inherently wrong with ordering music on Amazon, I try to hold out for as long as possible and hope to find it in a local record store.  I do this for three main reasons.

1. It is good to support your local record store – they are usually run by fellow music lovers that have turned their passion into a business, usually for very little profit.  Support their efforts!
2. It is more fun and exciting to poke around until you find a rare album – and even when you don’t find what you’re looking for you find other interesting albums.  As Motorhead teaches us, the chase is better than the catch!
3. It helps control my habit.  If I just ordered anything I wanted on Amazon, I’d soon be in the poorhouse.  I’ve got a wait-list of 37 albums right now I’m looking for and I could have them all in ten minutes of online shopping.

How It Stacks Up:  Originally I had “Caution Horses” and “Pale Sun, Crescent Moon”  ranked 1-2 but that was before I bought “Black Eyed Man.” While it falls just short of knocking off “Caution Horses” for first, it is plenty good enough to displace “Pale Sun Crescent Moon for the new #2.

Rating:  4 stars

After a very Canadian-focused album with “Caution Horse” the Junkies adopted a lot more southern US sounds and themes on “Black Eyed Man.”

The decision works well for them. If the Junkies’ music was a film, it would be shot in soft focus.  The guitar is muted and Margot Timmins’ vocals are always breathy and ethereal.  The combination usually makes me think of snowy days and prairie roads – lots of vastness and plenty of room for the notes to explore the emptiness, not to mention the mind.

When combined with down-south themes it introduces a new twist on the starkness.  The emptiness is still there, but you can feel the heat on your back now.  Things seem lazy and relaxed like a summer afternoon, but there is a sense of unease amidst it all.  The cold prairie north creeps in; if not in the surroundings then definitely in the listener.

A great example is “Oregon Hill,” which at first sounds like it is a pastoral song about a man relaxing with his girl, Suzy, as she cuts carrots up on Oregon Hill.  Margot’s voice lilts away as she describes Oregon Hill’s location as:

“A river to the south

to wash away all sins.

A college to the east of us

to learn where sin begins.

A graveyard to the west of it all

Which I may soon be lying in.”

Why such grim thoughts?  Because our narrator soon reveals he remembers Oregon Hill from his prison cell, and live or die, he is planning to escape, even for only a single night with his love.  Foolishly, his plan later is to sleep in and wait for the cops to arrive.  Um…next time tell her to meet you in Mexico, dude.

The desperate quality of the characters on “Black Eyed Man” reminded me strongly of Springsteen’s “Nebraska.”  These are tales about simple folk with real anguish in their lives.  Towns decaying around them, and creeping into their hearts, like on the amazing “This Street, That Man, This Life.”

“This street holds its secrets

like a cobra holds its kill.

This street minds its business

like a jailer minds his jail.

That house is haunted.

That door’s a portal to hell.

This street holds its secrets very well.”

Coupled with Timmins’ delivery you can feel the haunting run right through you like the cold damp of a fog; intimate but clammy cold.

 “The Last Spike” is a song about a resource town, abandoned after its resources are used up. An environmental song for sure, but even more a song about the slow sad death of a town with nothing left to hold on to.

And of course, I would be remiss not to mention the reason I bought the record in the first place; Townes Van Zandt!  The album has a Van Zandt composition written for the Cowboy Junkies (unimaginatively titled “Cowboy Junkies Lament”) which is – of course – excellent and a song about Townes (unimaginatively titled “Townes’ Blues”) which is…er…not as good.  But hey, it is still pretty good, and few can compete with Van Zandt when it comes to writing a song.

Speaking of which, the album ends with a Van Zandt cover, “To Live Is To Fly” – one of my all-time favourites.  The Junkies do a very pretty job of it, starting out very slow and still before catching up to the song’s original tempo, and then slowing down at the end of it again.  I admit I prefer both the original and the Steve Earle version, but this is still a fine imagining.

The songs on “Black Eyed Man” are like a bouquet of roses from some southern garden, pretty but covered in thorns that threaten to draw blood.  It may seem a grim garden, but it is a beautiful grim.  You know what they say: cut a hole out of roses, you’ll just get a man’s head.  I’m pretty sure someone says that.

Best tracks: Oregon Hill, A Horse in the Country, This Street That Man This Life, The Last Spike, Cowboy Junkies Lament, To Live is to Fly

CD Odyssey Disc 588: Danko Jones

Today finds me moderately hung over and with a re-sprained thumb, but since I got them both in the company of good friends last night I regret nothing.

Disc 588 is….We Sweat Blood

Artist: Danko Jones

Year of Release: 2003

What’s up with the Cover? Hand on guitar, with some very fake looking blood ‘sweating’ down the wrist.  I like the groovy metal lettering spelling out the band’s name – if you are going to play hard rock or heavy metal you should always ensure your band’s name is spelled out in a killer font.

How I Came To Know It: I happened upon this one on my own.  Somewhere I heard the song “Forget My Name” and really liked it.  I think I asked Sheila to get the album for me for my birthday and she complied.

How It Stacks Up:  Danko Jones has six studio albums, but I’ve only got this one, so it can’t really stack up.

Rating:  2 stars but almost 3

In an increasingly self-referential and ironically detached world that there are still bands that just want to rock – that would be Danko Jones.

Danko Jones is the lead singer and guitarist, and more generally is also the name of the band he fronts.  These guys are not about subtlety and considered reflection. The songs are all power chords and raspy rock vocals.

Danko Jones (the guy) is a visceral and present singer and no matter what he’s singing about he sounds angry.  I don’t think they actually sweat blood, but after a performance I expect the microphone is dripping with spit at the very least.

Lyrically, don’t expect this album to expand your mind.  These are songs about lusting after hot women and playing rock and roll, and that’s about it.  Danko Jones makes Cypress Hill seem complex by comparison. Weirdly, the CD booklet has all the lyrics in it, and reading them doesn’t make them any more insightful.  However, since the boys took the time to print them, I’ll take a moment to mock them.  From “Hot Damn Woman”:

“I wanna ride with you honey

I wanna roll around the kitchen floor

I wanna fight with you honey

So we can make up and make love some more.”

It sounds more than a little dysfunctional to me, as well as not being terribly FOODSAFE.  My fears on that front were confirmed later on where Jones tells his girl “you can wear the pants if I bring home the bacon.” 

And this from “Strut”:

“So tonight don’t look for Mr. Right

You strap those tight pants on and walk in a straight line.”

Presumably after one of those famous bacon fights, the woman of our earlier story decides to go looking for some trouble on the town.

“Strut” is actually a pretty cool song, although it owes a lot to the much earlier Kiss song, “Strutter.” In fact early Kiss influences are throughout “We Sweat Blood” both in terms of the songwriting and Danko Jones’ vocals.  Jones also tries to channel Phil Lynott from Thin Lizzy in his phrasing.  Unfortunately, while he throws himself into it Paul Stanley and Phil Lynott are two of rock’s better vocalists, and by affecting their styles, Jones invites comparisons that are not kind.

That said, there is an undeniable furiousness to this record.  There are 12 songs and not a single one is over 3:30 in length. The album races forward, no distracting ballads, no moments of quiet consideration. While the songs are far from complex, they are played exceptionally tight and for a three piece these guys manage to deliver some serious noise of the good variety.

They don’t waste time on long, winding stories and they don’t descend into guitar solo noodling.  They don’t get all grandiose and overextend themselves.  They get in, they get on it, and they get out.

While the album isn’t fresh or musically interesting enough to warrant three stars, it is still a good time and delivers some solid rock and roll without pretention.

Best tracks: Forget My Name, Strut

CD Odyssey Disc 587: Wild Strawberries

For the third straight review, this next album marks the end of the run for a particular artist.  I guess this means I’ve worked my way fairly deeply into the catalogue.

Not to worry, dear reader, with albums always being added at the front end the trip won’t end any time soon.

Disc 587 is….Quiver

Artist: Wild Strawberries

Year of Release: 1998

What’s up with the Cover? At first I thought this was just someone shaking (quivering?) a bit too much while holding the shutter open, but upon further review it is the head of lead singer Roberta Carter-Harrison mounted on a spring.  Surprise!  I sincerely hope this is a visual effect because the idea of her and hubby Ken actually having a jack-in-the-box of her head around the house creeps me out.  Or it makes me want to order one.  One of those.

How I Came To Know It: I really liked the Wild Strawberries first two albums, so I bought this one when it came out hoping for more of the same. Long-time readers of this blog will note that I do this a lot.

How It Stacks Up:  I have three Wild Strawberries albums, and like the last review of Supertramp, this is the worst of them.

And once again we find ourselves at the end of the line in terms of albums I own by this band, so here is my ranking of the discs I have in my collection:

1. Bet You Think I’m Lonely: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 211)
2. Heroine: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 311)
3. Quiver: 3 stars (reviewed right here)

Rating:  3 stars

Darker is not always better, particularly with pop music, and so it was that “Quiver” was a bit of a disappointment for me when I first heard it. Then again, sometimes it just takes longer to get to know things in the dark.

The previous two albums by musical (and actual) couple Ken Harrison and Roberta Carter-Harrison were inspiring pop music.  1994s “Bet You Think I’m Lonely” and 1995s “Heroine” were both revelations for me musically, combining synth pop, undercurrents of R&B and haunt-rock reminiscent of bands like Concrete Blonde.  To this day I still pull these albums still get on the regular rotation in our house, while “Quiver” sits forgotten for long stretches.

This is a bit unfair, because having given this album its due for the last couple of days I enjoyed it more than I expected I would.

The strong writing is still present, and songs like “Trampoline,” “Minions” and “Concha Y Toro” all have great melodies and a catchy rhythm section to boot.  In fact, it is a shame that the album doesn’t start off with “Trampoline” which has a clever little ‘oh-wee-oh” vocal transitioning in and out of its blues verses and rock chorus.  I’m not sure what the hell it is about (I think the trampoline is a metaphor) but I enjoy the journey anyway.

“Minions” and “Concha Y Toro” are the two songs that instantly appealed when I got the record back in 1998 and still appeal today.  They are both up tempo and a bit more rock-edged, while remaining firmly fixed in a pop style. 

Sadly, the album didn’t start with any of these songs, but instead with “Gotta Go” a formless mess of a song, obviously foundering in its own desire to layer on as much techno-beat as it can.  I don’t always hate a drum machine (other parts of “Quiver” use one admirably) but I sure hated one here. The fact that the chorus felt tuneless didn’t help any

While no other song on “Quiver” gave me the same negative experience, the fact that it is the first thing you hear on the record sets your ear in a bad place, and you find yourself waiting to hear more overdone club beats in other tracks. Sadly, they do show up in places, with “Speak of the Devil” and “You Could Be So Cold” both feeling overly cold with all the aimless synth.  “Pretty Lip” and “I Guess You’re Amused” are good songs at their core but I didn’t love the overly club-like treatment they get either.

Which is not to say that this stronger techno sound is always bad – and hearing this record on headphones (possibly for the first time) also helped.  “32” and “Blunt” work beautifully with their techno beats, which helps give these songs the sadness and detachment they need.  Both songs would work with nothing but Roberta’s voice and an acoustic guitar (Roberta – I’m available) but the electronic approach definitely works.

While “Quiver” will never be my favourite Wild Strawberries album, I still enjoyed it, and I’ll try to work it into more listens knowing that like a jack-in-the box it is jarring at first, but eventually vibrates its way into your heart.

Best tracks: Trampoline, Minions, Blunt, Concha Y Toro, 32

CD Odyssey Disc 586: Supertramp

For the second straight review, my random album also represents the last review in my collection for a particular artist – this time it is Supertramp.  I’d like to say I saved the best for last but that would be a lie.

Disc 586 is….Even in the Quietest Moments…

Artist: Supertramp

Year of Release: 1977

What’s up with the Cover? A piano left out in the snow.  The view is impressive and one that might inspire the pianist’s playing, but all that snow is definitely going to affect the tuning.  I would say if you need to have the piano exactly there, build a gazebo.

How I Came To Know It: This was an album I bought from our friend Gord when he was getting rid of his CD collection.  It was an easy way to flesh out my collection, and since I knew the hit, “Give A Little Bit” from the radio days of my youth, I took a chance on it.

How It Stacks Up:  I have three Supertramp albums, and by far this is the worst of them.

Also, as this is the last album left to review of this particular band, here’s a quick recap of how I feel about their discography, or at least the portion of their discography in my collection:

1. Breakfast in America: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 341)
2. Crime of the Century: 4 stars (reviewed recently at Disc 558)
3. Even in the Quietest Moments: 2 stars (reviewed right here)

Rating:  2 stars

Beware of an album with ellipses in the title – it will be prone to ramble. Also, given this is a Supertramp review you will already be starting with a significant amount of ramble, so the margin for error will be limited.

As you can see from my rankings above, I very much enjoyed my other two Supertramp albums, and with “Even in the Quietest Moments” coming right between them chronologically you’d expect things to go well.  Yeah, well – not so much.

This album has its moments, one of which fittingly is the title track, which has Supertramp doing what they do best – a beautiful blend of guitar and piano with vocals questioning the meaning of it all.

“Give a Little Bit” was a big radio hit, and it is a pretty fine little pop song.  If it is a bit on the hippy dippy side, we can forgive that since it was released in 1977. It also has one of those instantly recognizable opening riffs that sound easy to accomplish, but are devilishly difficult to actually come up with.

Apart from these songs, however, “Even in the Quietest Moments” just doesn’t have enough actual moments, quiet or otherwise.

Most of the songs don’t go anywhere melodically, they just sort of plod along while the band sings about sad and wan topics that had me wishing I was listening to the Carpenters.  When listening to Supertramp makes you wish you were listening to the Carpenters, you know you’ve got a pretty unimpressive Supertramp album on your hands.

The band’s hallmarks are still there.  They still have songs heavily reliant on vocals and piano, with an effort to layer other sounds in as well.  The songs themselves have a progressive quality, and aren’t afraid to change up two or three times as they progress.  However, on other Supertramp albums I’ve heard the changes slowly build the song up, whereas on “Even in the Quietest Moments” they just lurch about from one trite line to the next without ever feeling like they are going anywhere.

As with most Supertramp albums, this one doesn’t have a lot of songs, but the ones that it does have take their time to get their point across.  “Even in the Quietest Moments” only has seven tracks and four of them are over six minutes long.  I am fine with this if it is worthwhile (the title track clocks in at 6:29 and it is a great track), but when a song is boring, making it longer just makes it that much more interminable (pun intended).

The worst offender is “Fool’s Overture.”  The final track on the album, it is over ten minutes long and along the way features a meandering piano introduction for the first two minutes.  A river also meanders of course, but even that eventually gets somewhere.  The piano’s destination in “Fool’s Overture” is the sound of your Grandma’s clock chiming, and a sample of Winston Churchill giving his “We Will Never Surrender” speech before the song finally gets moving at about 3:30.  The resulting riff reminded me of Fashion TV’s credits (although it wasn’t) but it is the kind of song that is best for playing over the credits of something else.

When “Even in the Quietest Moments” tries to be profound, it sounds overwrought and when it tries to be thoughtful it sounds boring and faded.  The title track manages to capture some of the band’s usual magic and “Give A Little Bit” gives at least a little bit, but it is too little of a good thing.  Most of the time this record had me wishing I was hearing either “Crime of the Century” or “Breakfast in America.”

Best tracks:   Give a Little Bit, Even in the Quietest Moments

CD Odyssey Disc 585: Michelle Shocked

Happy Monday!  No this is not a Happy Mondays review, although those are available on A Creative Maelstrom if that’s what tickles your fancy.

This is a Michelle Shocked review – her music, that is.  I’ll leave any political and social commentary for blogs dedicated to those topics.

Disc 585 is….Arkansas Traveler

Artist: Michelle Shocked

Year of Release: 1992

What’s up with the Cover? Michelle Shocked plays the role of hobo, sore feet in a bucket and kerchief with all her worldly possessions in her hand.  As this is the early nineties, the cover features an overly stylized background painting that makes everything look overly colourful and fake.

How I Came To Know It: I heard the single, “Come A Long Way” somewhere – probably MuchMusic, and liked it. At the time I didn’t even know about her more famous album, “Short, Sharp, Shocked” so this was my introduction to her music.

How It Stacks Up:  I have three Michelle Shocked albums.  I reviewed the other two way back in the early days of the Odyssey, but I never forgot about this one, and left room to slot it in exactly where it belongs – at number one.

Also, as this is the last of my Michelle Shocked albums, here’s a quick recap of what I thought of them comparatively:

1. Arkansas Traveler: 4 stars (reviewed right here)
2. Short, Sharp, Shocked: 3 stars (reviewed way back at Disc 10)
3. Captain Swing: 2 stars (reviewed way back at Disc 34)

Rating:  4 stars

“Arkansas Traveler” is a hidden masterpiece – Michelle Shocked’s best record and likely her least appreciated, it is a love song for the roots of southern folk music, artfully delivered with the help of an exceptional list of artists that were either already rightly famous, or soon to become so.  This record is so unlike her first two, that if it weren’t for Shocked’s throaty powerhouse voice, you’d wonder if it were actually her behind this music.

The first couple of songs try to trick you otherwise, mind you.  “33 RPM Soul” is that bluesy, alt-folk swing that you would expect from Shocked’s earlier records. “Come A Long Way” follows it up with a very traditional nineties folk song, as it tells a whimsical tale of stealing your bike back from the repo man and taking a fanciful journey through various Los Angeles communities.  “Come a Long Way” which has a seductive melody that has you swaying back and forth and singing along; a passenger on the Michelle Shocked hippy ride back before it got all crazy and uncomfortable.

I suspect what she was doing here was setting the audience up to show them where some of the sounds in that kind of music come from; in this case very old Arkansas folk constructions.  After these songs, the album winds its way out of LA’s urban environment; away from soul and blues and into the deep countryside, full of the stories of local characters, and the slow but deliberate lives of small town America.

The help she gets on her journey is incredible.  Living legends like Levon Helm, Taj Mahal and even Doc Watson all get in on the act, taking prominent guest roles on different songs.  Relative newcomers that would go on to be equally famous include Jeff Tweedy (then of Uncle Tupelo, now Wilco), and Alison Krauss.

I’ve owned this album for over twenty years and I’ve always been amazed at the great talent of the musicians.  I don’t know why I never took the time to look at the liner notes until now and see just who they were.  Likely in 1992 I did look and just didn’t know any of them yet.

The fiddle playing on “Arkansas Traveler” is brilliant.  There is even a song, “Contest Coming (Cripple Creek)” that is about an upcoming fiddle contest, and you can be sure the fiddle solo convinces you the character in the song is in good shape to win it.

There are lots of whimsical songs on the album, including one about riding a barrel over a waterfall (“Over the Waterfall”), and about a drunk who is finally thrown into the street by his frustrated wife (“Weaving Way.”)

“Weaving Way” has that deliberate sway to it that feels exactly like a drunk staggering down the street and when the bridge hits, it is an abrupt realization that he may have gone too far this time.

There are other tracks where the album gets a little too pastoral and uneventful for me, including “Blackberry Blossom” and “Strawberry Jam” which accurately reflect some basic experiences of rural life but just don’t terribly interest me.

Fortunately other songs take a serious bent and give the album some much-needed gravitas.  “Shaking Hands (Soldier’s Joy)” tackles the American Civil War from the perspective of the effects it had on an individual soldier.  The lead vocal is delivered by Jeff Tweedy in a beautiful way that starts our hero triumphant and cocky and finds him ultimately broken with a morphine addiction he gains recovering from a bullet wound.  As the song states, ‘what the bullet could not kill, the needle will.’

“Prodigal Daughter (Cotton Eyed Joe)” takes an old story and an old song and mixes them together to make a very modern statement about the double-standards that exist so often in the ‘sowing your wild oats’ experience:

“What’s to be done

With a prodigal son?

Welcome him home with open arms.

Throw a big party

Invite your friends

Out boy’s come back home.

When a girl goes home

With the oats he’s sown

Its draw your shades and your shutters

She’s bringing such shame

To the family name

The return of the prodigal daughter.”

The song ends with about three straight minutes of Alison Krauss and Union Station blowing you away with their musical prowess on a fiddle reel.

The album ends with a long and rambling bit that on repeat listens sounds like that uncle who makes the same jokes at every family gathering that only he thinks are funny. Fortunately the second half of the song turns into a speech from an old man opposing the proposal to change the name of the State of Arkansas.  I don’t know if it is true (I can’t find the Arkansas Legislature Hansard for July 23, 1867 that it is purportedly taken from) but hearing a man claim that he can’t be out of order as long as he ‘can piss clear cross the Mississippi’ is worth a boring uncle joke or two.

I’ve listened to “Arkansas Traveler” hundreds of times since I first bought it back in 1992 and it has never been anything but enjoyable for me.

Best tracks:   Come a Long Way, Secret to a Long Life, Contest Coming (Cripple Creek), Over the Waterfall, Shaking Hands (Soldier’s Joy), Prodigal Daughter (Cotton-Eyed Joe, Weaving Way

CD Odyssey Disc 583 and 584: The Traveling Wilburys

It has been a while since I’ve reviewed an album that was actually two albums in one package.  The last two times I remember are way back in the early days with Townes Van Zandt (at Disc 43) and Kris Kristofferson (at Disc 54).  Both times I reviewed the albums separately, but I called them by a single disc, and I wish looking back I’d given them each their own number.

So when I rolled this album that’s exactly what I did.

Disc 583 and 584 is….The Traveling Wilburys Volume 1 and 3

Artist: The Traveling Wilburys

Year of Release: 1988 (Volume 1) and 1990 (Volume 3)

What’s up with the Cover? The original covers featured weathered old photos of the band, and Volume 1 also had the logo for the band.  This is a reissue of both albums together, and they went with just the band’s logo and a silver background. I don’t love it, but given that because of his death Roy Orbison was pictured in the band for Volume 1, but absent for Volume 3, putting any kind of a photo would have been awkward.

How I Came To Know It: I don’t honestly remember.  I originally had Volume 1 on tape, but I don’t remember when I got it.  Given the year it came out, it could have been my last foray into the “Columbia House” mail order system.  Anyway, for years I had it on tape and for years you couldn’t find it on CD until 2007 when they put out this re-issue and I snapped it up.  The re-issue was my first experience with Volume 3.

How It Stacks Up:  The Wilburys only have two albums and this is them.  Of the two, I’d put Volume 1first.

Supergroups are all the rage, but all supergroups take a backseat to the Traveling Wilburys.  When your band is composed of Bob Dylan, Tom Petty, Jeff Lynne, George Harrison and Roy Orbison it is hard to go wrong.

Traveling Wilburys Volume 1

Rating:  4 stars

The Wilburys came together first in 1988 for Volume 1, and looking at my CD collection now, it was an inevitability that I would love what I heard.

Totaled we have 41 other CDs with these guys doing their own work; 16 Dylan albums, three ELO albums (Jeff Lynne’s band), 15 Tom Petty albums, including his one record as Mudcrutch and seven Beatles albums (that’s where George Harrison comes from, fyi).  The only Wilbury I don’t have something else by is Roy Orbison.

Recorded in a style that is deliberately ‘old timey,’ Volume 1 features lots of tight strumming in a very American folk, jangly style. The songs themselves, however, are ‘Wilbury’ originals that still sound current today.

Part of this is the production, which is handled by Jeff Lynne and George Harrison.  I’ve always been an admirer of Jeff Lynne’s ability to get a crisp, rich sound.  Even his little ELO-like synth flourishes in the background of “Congratulations” are restrained and serve to add a nice depth to the music.

The boys harmonize beautifully throughout the record and it is clear by the way the songs are arranged (often with different Wilburys taking a verse each) that the rock star egos were parked at the door.  They have similar voices overall, and where they differ it is in a good way.  Dylan adds grit, Lynne and Harrison’s voices are a bit more breezy and airy and Petty delivers his lines with his famous high nasal voice that is always oddly soothing.

Above it all there is Roy Orbison, his quavering near falsetto delivering power exactly where it is needed.  When he cuts in with “I’m so tired of being lonely/I still have some love to give” on “Handle With Care” the whole song descends another giant step deeper into heartbreak.

Each voice gets its turn in the sun, however.  Orbison soars in “Not Alone Any More” and Dylan sings a a dusty and grimy tale of robbery and ill-considered desire in “Tweeter and the Monkey Man.”  Mostly though, the guys take their turns on lead within each song, without ever having the songs come out sounding busy or disjointed.

The album fittingly ends with “End of the Line” which is a song filled with the wisdom of five guys who have done a lot of living, and have concluded that things are never so bad if you just take life as it comes.

As this is a reissue there are two bonus tracks on Volume 1, “Maxine” and “Like a Ship” not on the original release. “Maxine” is intended to sound like an old Irish folk song but it doesn’t really work, and is marred by some oddly placed hand clapping.  That’s weird, because hand-clapping almost always works, but not here.

“Like a Ship” is similar in style to “Maxine” but works far better.  Maybe I just have a soft spot for a sea shanty (which it is) but I really like this song and wish it had been on the original album.  Either way, it is here now.

For a good while getting this album was very hard indeed.  I sold my cassette copy for $20 around 2004 (pretty good if you think about the market for tapes at the time) and the CD was worth more like $80.  Now that it is widely available again I encourage you to get out there and get it.  The songs will be just as good as you remember them.

Best tracks:   Handle With Care, Last Night, Not Alone Any More, Congratulations, Tweeter and the Monkey Man, End of the Line

Traveling Wilburys Volume 3

Rating:  3 stars

As I mentioned earlier, I have no Orbison albums, but there is no question his absence on Volume 3 is significant.  Despite the valiant efforts of the other Wilburys to overcome this and deliver another classic what they manage is merely good, not great. 

Orbison sadly died before Volume 3 could be recorded.  Apparently Del Shannon was considered to replace him, but he committed suicide before that could happen.

OK – enough with the sadness and on with the music.  The tight guitar strumming is still present as are the strong harmonies, and Lynne and Harrison again deliver good production value.  What is missing is Orbison’s high vocal, and in its absence the songs feel like they have a ceiling on their sound.

The band also seems more self-conscious about making an old-time traditional roots album.  As a result the songs sometimes come off as a bit derivative rather than the timeless quality they have on Volume 1.

That said, there are still bright spots.  “If You Belonged To Me” has a very pretty harmony and because it is hearkening back to an earlier musical style I can even forgive its archaic way of expressing love as ownership.

“Cool Dry Place” was also a guilty pleasure.  The lyrics are a bit kitschy, but I love the idea of aging rockers singing about their struggles to find a place to house all of their instruments where they won’t get damaged by water or other perils. I can imagine all these guys have collected a ton of “favourite” guitars in their decades of playing, and this would be a real – although hardly tragic – problem for them.  The song is fronted by Tom Petty’s and the style is totally reminiscent of his “Full Moon Fever” feel.  It sounds a lot like that album’s “Zombie Zoo” but instead of making fun of some young clubber, Petty turns his sights on himself.

As with “Volume 1”, “Volume 3’s” reissue has two bonus tracks.  In this case they are both remakes.  The first is an old classic, “Nobody’s Child” first recorded by Hank Snow in 1949 (if Wikipedia is to be believed – and I’m pretty sure it’s never wrong).  The second is the Del Shannon classic, “Runaway.”

I liked both of these, with “Nobody’s Child” delivered with heart and honesty, and “Runaway” is brilliantly performed and all the more tragic because of the circumstances of Del Shannon’s death.

While “Volume 3” compares poorly to “Volume 1” when you listen to them both side by side, it is still a good album and worth a listen from time to time if you want to, you know, have even more opportunity to hear four music legends performing together.

Best tracks:   If You Belonged To Me, Poor House, Cool Dry Place, Runaway

CD Odyssey Disc 582: Guy Clark

Another crazy day, fresh from a work day, straight to a strata council meeting, then a guitar lesson and now I’m finally home to stay and ready to write – get this review out of my system while it is still bubbling at the surface.

Disc 582 is….The South Coast of Texas

Artist: Guy Clark

Year of Release: 1981

What’s up with the Cover? In addition to being a top notch songwriter, Guy Clark has one fine head of hair.  The beard is a harbinger of the grey that is to come, but here Guy has that perfect “Just For Men” combination of distinguished grey and natural colour. Is grey creeping up on you?  Never fear, men – Guy Clark shows you can own the grizzling as it happens and not only preserver your dignity, but look good doing it.  So put that box back on that shelf and exit the London Drugs with your dignity intact.

How I Came To Know It: I knew Guy Clark through both Dublin Blues and the Live at the Bluebird Café albums (both previously reviewed) and I was eager to have something else, so I bought the self-titled third album and…hated it.  That put me off for a while, but I took another chance with “The South Coast of Texas” and it turned out all right.

How It Stacks Up:  I’ve only got two Guy Clark albums (I sold the self-titled effort) and of the two, “The South Coast of Texas” is the lesser effort.  I do plan to get about three more (“Old No. 1”, “Texas Cookin’” and “Cold Dog Soup” are currently on my radar) but that’s for a future trip to the old CD store.

Rating:  2 stars but close to 3

The eighties were a dark time for a lot of different music but none more so than country music.  Guy Clark’s album survives the experience as well as it can, but doesn’t emerge unscathed.

Both the eighties and country music had a schmaltzy quality that fed off each other in a very ugly fashion.  For example, I have a ton of great Emmylou Harris albums from the seventies, but enter 1981’s “Evangeline” and the spell is broken with hokey junk.  The best song on it is “Hot Burrito #2” which is a Gram Parsons seventies number and the second best song, “Ashes By Now” would later be ruined by new country artist Leanne Womack.

Guy Clark’s “South Coast of Texas” came out the same year as “Evangeline” and suffers a similar fate. It has too much of bubble gum pop-style, which Clark has diligently stuck with for years despite it not suiting his gravelly style.

The album has a number of examples of doing it wrong, including “Who Do You Think You Are” which sounds like stodgy old folks having an argument, and “Heartbroke” which although it is about getting over a heartbreak could use a lot more…sadness. I like a good “pull up your bootstraps” song but it should always have at least a twinge of melancholy.  Otherwise the listener doesn’t feel like what you’re recovering from is a big deal. It bothers me that the lyrics are actually pretty powerful, but the arrangement and the upbeat melody makes it all feel just a little too fake, or worse, like some guy who doesn’t get it is giving you a life lesson about staying positive.

So that’s the bad stuff, but there is plenty of good stuff on this album as well, because at his core Guy Clark is an amazing songwriter, and I’m glad I didn’t let his self-titled effort dissuade me.  If it is one thing I’ve learned from artists like Townes Van Zandt and Patty Griffin, it is that those artists who others remake on a regular basis have something going for him.  There is a reason Guy Clark gets to play with great artists like Emmylou and Karen Matheson, and it is that they recognize his brilliance.

There’s a good helping of that brilliance on “South Coast of Texas,” principally on those songs where he turns down the hokey act and lets his soulful understanding of human character come out.

“The Partner Nobody Chose” is a sad and rolling track about a woman desperate for love who has never met the right person. The song plucks (quite literally) along as it moves through an effortless melody that sounds like it was written fifty years earlier but is actually a Clark original (co-written with fellow under-appreciated songwriter Rodney Crowell).

Coming later in the album, “The Partner Nobody Chose” is a nice bookend to the earlier track, “Crystelle,” the character study of a young woman still wild with abandon, breaking hearts right and left with the certainty that there’ll be plenty more where they came from. Barely a woman, but hardly a child, my favourite stanza is:

“She’s a reason to be reckless, she’s the right to rock & roll

She’s exactly what they meant when they told you not to go

Her breath’s as sweet as chewing gum

And her heart’s as cold as kingdom come

She’s heaven sent and hell bent to run

Oh me I fell in love now wouldn’t you?”

This is a song about being over thirty and feeling the warm glow when you get the rare attention – however fleeting – of a twenty year old. You’ll still go safely home to your wife of course (unless you’re an idiot) but it is still a nice feeling.

Another favourite is the title track, which tells the story of the small fishing towns of Texas. The song mixes Mexican and Western flavours with traditional sea shanty arrangements, and the combination is sublime.

As an album “South Coast of Texas” can edge into the trite, but Guy Clark is a master storyteller.  When he fully embraces that role, the album rises above, Clark painting musical portraits of ordinary people, whose stories stand out like splashes of colour on the rich canvas of South Texas life. Like them, I enjoy this album despite its faults.

Best tracks:   Crystelle, South Coast of Texas, The Partner Nobody Chose, Lone Star Hotel

CD Odyssey Disc 581: Temple of the Dog

My writing is going well and I’m getting back into a gym routine for the New Year, but now I’m having a harder time squeezing in guitar practice.  Damn, but all this self-improvement, Renaissance-man BS is time consuming.

Disc 581 is…. Temple of the Dog (Self Titled)

Artist: Temple of the Dog

Year of Release: 1991

What’s up with the Cover? Some sort of live performance paired with what looks like Play-Doh lettering in a dirt box.  At least I assume it is Play-Doh; when I was a kid we only had the more generic Plasticine.  I don’t know, maybe it was cheaper.  Regardless of whether this is Play-Doh or Plasticine, it is a stupid cover for such a good record.

How I Came To Know It: Another album my good friend and ex-roomate Greg put me onto back in the grunge/folk wars of the early nineties (I served in the folk army at the time, but now I play on both sides – literally). This was an album that I loved, so it got a lot of play as one we could both agree on.

How It Stacks Up:  There is only one Temple of the Dog album, and this is it, so it doesn’t really stack up.

Rating:  4 stars but almost 5

“Temple of the Dog” was a pre-supergroup, a coming together of amazing artists not quite famous yet, but who would be by the time their collaboration hit the charts.

In this case the supergroup were four members of Pearl Jam and two more from Soundgarden. It wasn’t that either band was unknown, but both were about to land huge records on the charts (Pearl Jam with “Ten” and Soundgarden with “Badmotorfinger”)  It is our luck that they also came together to create the one-off that became the self-titled “Temple of the Dog.”

Steve Gossard, Jeff Ament, Mike McCready and Eddie Vedder came from Pearl Jam; which had recently formed out of the remnants of Mother Love Bone following the overdose of their previous lead singer, Andrew Wood.  Two members of Soundgarden – Matt Cameron and Chris Cornell – rounded out the lineup.

"Ten" and "Badmotorfinger" are known for their visceral energy, and this is equally true of “Temple of the Dog,” which features the same chugging down-tuned guitars and melody driven, throaty, fuzz-rock that now has the enduring label of ‘grunge’.

There are differences, however.  “Temple of the Dog” is generally delivered at a slower, more deliberate tempo and the songs are stripped right back to the bare bones. I’ve always believed you need to give room for a song to breathe.  The songs on “Temple of the Dog” not only breathe, they take that extra room to growl and yawp with a deep, rumbling power.  In the hands of vocal pretenders (like Creed, for example) such vocal acrobatics could have invited overwrought disaster.  Fortunately, we are talking about Chris Cornell and Eddie Vedder here, not Scott Stapp.  There is a difference, and that difference is greatness.

The album is mostly fronted by Chris Cornell of Soundgarden, who has one of the classic rock voices of his generation.  No one can screech and yell with as much raw emotion while never losing tune or tone like Cornell.  The songs are tailor-made for him to show off, with Mike McCready’s guitar sitting back and relaxed, giving his temporary band mate a melody to move around in as the mood moves him.

The album is heavily tinged with the recent death of Andrew Wood from Mother Love Bone, and the songs speak of loss and the grief that follows from that tragedy.  Cornell sums the feeling up nicely at the end of the opening track, “Say Hello 2 Heaven”:

“I never wanted

To write these words down for you

With the pages of phrases

Of things we’ll never do

So I blow out the candle, and

I put you to bed

Since you can’t say to me

Now how the dogs broke your bone

There’s just one thing left to be said

Say hello to heaven.”

But lest I get too biographical – which is not my way – I’ll return to the music itself.

“Reach Down” is a power-chord dirge that shows that music inspired by sadness can still feel uplifting and empowering, as Cornell gives himself the advice to reach down and pull the crowd up, while simultaneously doing exactly that.  “Reach Down” is over 11 minutes long, and despite crunching along slowly and deliberately it never drags.

There are other standouts, including the troubled description of heroin addiction in “Times of Trouble” and the indictment of religion used as a consumer good in “Wooden Jesus” but I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the album’s one memorable hit, “Hunger Strike.”

Hearing “Hunger Strike” for the first time on MuchMusic was a revelation.  Cornell starts it off, his powerful rock voice pushing the song out, but when Eddie Vedder takes over for the second verse (unlike most tracks where Vedder did backing vocals, on “Hunger Strike” he shared lead with Cornell) the song takes on a whole other quality.  Vedder’s voice has more vibrato in it; slightly higher and no less evocative and is the perfect foil for Cornell’s, and every bit its equal. 

There have been bands that mock the back-of-the-throat singing style of Vedder, but mostly it is a complaint against bands like Creed that followed after.  “Hunger Strike” shows Vedder’s instrument in its un-distilled form; pure gold as it pours out the same lines over and over again:

“I don’t mind stealing bread

From the mouths of decadence

But I can’t feed on the powerless

When my cup’s already overfilled.”

The song makes you hungry for justice to the point where the very hunger of it sustains you and paradoxically gives you energy.  Maybe it was just that I was hungry a lot myself when this song came out, but when Vedder and Cornell organically begin belting the song’s lines back and forth to one another it always hits me in the gut.  No surprise since that’s where hunger – and great music – always hits you first.

Best tracks:   Say Hello 2 Heaven, Reach Down, Hunger Strike, Times of Trouble, Wooden Jesus

CD Odyssey Disc 580: Blue Rodeo

As the sidebar notes, I can introduce newly purchased albums ahead of the random system of the Odyssey, but in practice I rarely do it.  I just like the random experience of not knowing what I’m getting next, and new albums get enough love from me as it is.

The one exception is when I go see a concert associated with a new album – that way I can review bot the album and the concert at the same time.  That’s the case with this next record.

And if you’re wondering, ‘isn’t Logan watching football right now?’ – I am taping the game until I’m done this review.  It is my New Year’s resolution to give my various writing projects a higher priority in my life.  Five days in, it feels great.

Disc 580 is…. In Our Nature

Artist: Blue Rodeo

Year of Release: 2013

What’s up with the Cover? Artistic depiction of steel girder construction spelling out the album title, with a house in front presumably to show how huge the steel girder construction is.  This cover had me wondering who would go to such trouble just to spell out “IN OUR NATURE” in steel girders, and then wait a few years for it to grow over with vines and flowers? They probably should have spent at least some of that time keeping up the house in front, which looks to be in a sad state of repair.

How I Came To Know It:  This was just me buying the new Blue Rodeo album when it came out.  Technically, my friend Chris alerted me to the fact that there was a new album, and arranged for the concert we saw on Saturday as well – thanks, Chris!

How It Stacks Up:  With this new addition, we now have 13 Blue Rodeo albums, which I believe is all of them.  Of the 13, “In Our Nature” comes in at around tenth, just behind “Tremolo” (reviewed way back at Disc 144).

Rating:  3 stars

“In Our Nature” is a return to Blue Rodeo’s atmospheric, rockabilly roots – a fitting decision for a band in the midst of celebrating their 25 years of music.

The album has the same combination of Jim Cuddy’s mournful ballads and Greg Keelor’s atmospheric mood pieces, but the stripped down production of their two previous albums (2007’s “Small Miracles” and 2009’s “The Things We Left Behind”) is replaced with a return to the more layered feeling of their early efforts.

For the most part, it works, I think because that despite the more layered approach the songs on “In Our Nature” are actually fairly simple melodically, and in many ways very traditional bluegrass or ‘old-timey’ music.  Showing your roots is definitely back in the world of alt-country, and I for one am very happy with the trend when it is handled right.

Cuddy and Keelor’s have such individual styles that you can tell who is responsible for a song within the first few notes. It isn’t just the song’s construction, it goes all the way to the production.  Keelor likes a big, echo-filled sound on his work, and Cuddy is more traditional country the way he puts things together.  I like both, but I tend to prefer Cuddy’s approach and on “In Our Nature” Keelor gets the bit in his mouth a bit too much, but not so badly as to harm the overall record.

The album starts out strong, with “New Morning Sun” as Cuddy starts the song off with these tentative and foreboding lines:

“Maybe now we could be lovers

Share all the darkness in our souls”

As the song progresses it really isn’t all that foreboding at all; sharing the darkness in your soul is just part of being with someone.  By the time the chorus hits the song is a full call to celebration, and the melody and rhythm make for a real ear-wormer.

Keelor’s offering on the second track, “Wondering” is his best on the record as well.  It is roomy and comfortable and not too drowned in production.  Michael Boguski’s work on the organ is excellent and makes the song dreamy and thoughtful. 

As I noted earlier, these songs are very much a return to traditional Blue Rodeo fare, and some sounded a bit too much like previous work.  However, since I like those early songs, that wasn’t too much of a draw back for me.  There are places where the vocals are given an odd phrasing and others where the piano takes a solo where I think the song calls for guitar, but mostly the boys get it right.

I was quite pleased with myself to have identified “Made Your Mind Up” as a waltz.  At least I think it has that rise and fall and 1-2-3 action that made me feel like waltzing.  This being Blue Rodeo, this particular dance would be filled with the unpleasant conversation of a collapsing relationship, but that’s part of what makes it a good song.

Overall, “In Our Nature” doesn’t tackle a lot of new ground, but it covers the old ground pretty well, and while it isn’t as consistently strong as some of their albums, it has enough gems strewn throughout to be yet another good record from a band with plenty of them.

Best tracks:   New Morning Sun, Wondering, Over Me, Made Your Mind Up

The Concert – January 4, 2014 at Save-on-Foods Memorial Arena

Sheila and I had seen Blue Rodeo twice before at this venue (for the “Palace of Gold” and “Are You Ready” tours respectively), and if it weren’t for the interest from our friends Chris and Allison we likely would’ve given it a pass this year.  I’m glad we didn’t.

The main reason I stopped going to Blue Rodeo concerts was the same reason I stopped going to Leonard Cohen concerts; the setlist didn’t get changed up enough.  “Five Days in July” is Blue Rodeo’s greatest record, but it is twenty years old and I don’t want to hear three-quarters of the songs off of it every time I go see them.

This time around the band totally addressed this concern, and gave me some of the deeper cuts I’ve been longing for.

The band played two sets, and the first featured all songs off of the new album, which I loved.  A band should be keen to play their new material and an audience willing to go to the trouble of seeing them live should hopefully be filled with people who are interested in hearing it.

Even if “In Our Nature” isn’t my favourite album, I really enjoyed it live, and because the songs were new to the band, there wasn’t much ad-libbing.  It sounded very much like it does on the record, only with a nice organic quality.

The second set was all older stuff, which was also great, and got the crowd rolling down to the front of the stage to dance about (not me though, I’m old and liked my padded seat).

I missed the first song as I had an ill-timed nature call of my own.  I only missed one song, “Diamond Mine” and it is not one of my favourites anyway, so all good.

There were still a few songs off of “Five Days in July” but a more tastefully restrained number.  I loved that they played “Dark Angel” which is a beautiful and sometimes overlooked track.  I’ve been learning “Five Days in May” on guitar so when it started my brain started going “Em, D, Am, C,” but in the end understanding the song’s construction just made me enjoy it more.

There was a bit more off of “Outskirts” than I would have liked, it not being my favourite album (yes, heresy, I know) but the crowd liked that, and at least they stuck with “Heart Like Mine” and “Try” rather than “Joker’s Wild” or “Piranha Pool.”

The band wasn’t as tight as I’ve heard at previous concerts, and I caught a couple of foul notes in the mix, but that just might be my ear being trained more of late. I didn’t mind, because the songs had a nice organic flow to them, and were played with feeling. The keyboard player, Michael Boguski, was a star of the show, and it was nice that the fans appreciated his excellence.

In the past, Blue Rodeo would tend to noodle just a bit too much, but at this show they hit the sweet spot; more than you’d hear on the record, but nothing self-indulgent or aimless.  They had a lead guitar guy as well who could really wail, and gave the show a bit more of a rock edge than it has had in the past.  I liked this and I didn’t.  On the plus side, he was an excellent player.  On the minus side, I enjoy hearing Cuddy and Keelor play, and they took more of a back seat as a result.

In addition to all the big hits, the guys seemed to put a real effort into picking some deep tracks from early records.  The highlight for me was “Disappear” off of “Tremolo” which was a song I specifically mentioned on the walk down – I can only assume Blue Rodeo were walking right behind me and overheard me.

Cuddy and Keelor still have good voices despite not being spring chickens.  Cuddy particularly was still able to nail high falsetto.  He had me thinking of how Johnny Horton would’ve sounded if he could have survived to middle-age.

The audience was pretty well behaved.  Those who wanted to stand and dance did it where it made sense (in front of the stage) and there wasn’t too much talking during the show.  There were a couple of idiots behind us (how is it that concert idiots always seem to be seated behind you, and never in front of you?  Cheaper seats?) but I was mostly able to tune them out with good success.

And of course, the tradition of making the audience sing “Hasn’t Hit Me Yet” was upheld.  I’d say we did OK, but shouldn’t quit our collective day jobs.  This, and Steve Earle getting the audience singing “I Ain’t Ever Satisfied” are two of my favourite live traditions – never stop doing this, guys.

Having taken almost a decade off from seeing Blue Rodeo this concert made me glad to be back.

A final note on the opening act, the Devin Cuddy band.  I was not terribly impressed when he opened for Lindi Ortega last November (reviewed here) but with a full band backing him, he was much better.  Fun songs that showed wit and insight, and without Devin having to do the entire mix on a single keyboard, a much better overall sound.