After
spending our last couple of reviews in the eighties, we now poke our nose into
the nineties. In the early nineties I was seriously into folk music. Back then,
this next album would have appealed to me even more. Instead I discovered it
sometime in the last decade. I can’t say when exactly because the internet has
reposted an “updated” version of the article where I discovered John Gorka. The
old version of that article is long gone, along with whatever original content
it held. It is all very 1984.
Disc 1394 is…. Jacks’
Crows
Artist:
John Gorka
Year of Release: 1991
What’s up with the
Cover? The worst of early
nineties oversized clothing meets the worsts of early nineties beard/mullet
combos, only to then be presented in the worst of early nineties graphic art.
Early nineties, we do
not miss you.
How I Came To Know
It: A
number of years ago John Gorka’s “Land of the Bottom Line” was featured on a “great
obscure folk records” list. That drew me into his catalogue more fully, and
here we are.
How It Stacks Up: I just bought two more
John Gorka albums last weekend (I suspect they are weaker efforts, but they
were cheap, so I took a chance). That brings my total to four albums. Of the
four, “Jack’s Crows” comes in at #2.
Ratings: 3 stars
“Jack’s Crows” is a solid folk record that would benefit from being just
a little shorter. It has four or five gems, but they are spaced out among other
songs that meander and draw focus away from the good stuff.
As if to prove this theory true, the first few songs on the record are
largely forgettable. The title track in particular feels like a submission to a
writing contest. It is replete with imagery but tries to cover too much ground
and only succeeds in stretching its metaphor.
However, like a dip in a cool lake, while those first few songs aren’t particularly
memorable, they do immerse you in Gorka’s sound. His baritone vocals, which are
heavy in their chest voice, and the light strum of his guitar playing. Neither instrument
will blow you away with its virtuosity, but Gorka knows enough to stay within
himself. Everything is designed to serve the song if you’re willing to wait around
and acclimate.
If you do, you’re soon rewarded. “Houses in the Field” is a song
about struggling farmers turning their agricultural land into suburban housing.
Gorka doesn’t judge those who sell out to the developers, but he does evoke a
deep sadness over the loss of a way of life.
“Semper Fi” is another standout, a song about Gorka’s father that
reminded me favourably of Guy Clark’s “The Randal Knife.” Like that
song, it is an understated and mournful elegy. Each line is long, unfolding with
a steady grace. Gorka makes use of a caesura in each line to give the song a slow
but purposeful stroll:
“My father met Eleanor Roosevelt/in 1945
The war at last was over then/and they were still alive.
Her husband was the president/’til he ran out of time.
Her Franklin D. was history/and they put him on the dime.”
Doesn’t sound like much, but choked me up all the same, knowing Mrs.
Roosevelt later gives Gorka’s father a blanket as he lay in the hospital.
On “Where the Bottles Break” Gorka speaks as a character living in
the inner city, getting by as rapacious landlords raise their rents to develop the
neighbourhood. He even references “Donald what’s his name” and yes –
that’s who he means.
It’s the second time urban development features prominently on the
record, and while Gorka isn’t afraid to confront social issues, it always is
through the lens of the individual experience of his characters.
However, he also is up for some self-deprecating humour, including the
album’s best song. On “I’m From New Jersey” Gorka runs through a list of
New Jersey stereotypes, owning them with the nuance and bravery that a local
can manage. As the chorus woefully notes:
“I’m from New Jersey
I don’t expect too much
If the world ended today
I would adjust.”
And later:
“I’m from New Jersey
It’s not like Texas
There’s no mystery
I can’t pretend.”
But for all that, he ends up by clarifying that all those self-deprecating
Jerseyites are also the people that will go out of their way to help you when
the chips are down. The song may play for laughs early on, but it is all to set
up Gorka’s quiet pride for where he’s from.
It’s unfortunate that right after “I’m From New Jersey” pens such
a poignant love letter to his home town, he follows up with the forgettable ode,
“My New Neighbourhood.” It has some strong imagery but is weighed down
by an awkward tune that limits impact of the one thing that a mood piece needs,
mood.
A slightly better balance, and this record could be great. From a pure
imagery perspective, it is already there. However, there are just too many
songs I’d probably skip if the Odyssey allowed – if only to get to the best
stuff. For that reason, I’m leaving it at an affectionate three stars.
Best tracks: Houses
in the Fields, Semper Fi, Where the Bottles Break, I’m From New Jersey, The
Ballad of Jamie Bee
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