Hank Done it This Way

Son Volt
40 Watt Club
Athens, GA
11/19/09




It takes a really special band to make me even consider driving all the way to Athens on a weeknight and endure the inevitable hell that the next day is certain to be. Son Volt, however, is definitely that special of a band. When all was said and done, I didn't get back to my house until 2:30 in the morning on Friday, and at that point I had a hard time falling asleep because of the large coffee I guzzled on the way back to prevent me from passing out behind the wheel. I had a miserable Friday at work, slugging through it like a zombie and avoiding human contact as much as I possibly could. But goddamn, it was worth it.

I got to Athens a little before 6 PM on Thursday, and that gave me time to check out some gear at Music Exchange before they closed. After that I killed a few drinks in the Flicker Bar (my favorite bar in Athens, for sure). Then, it was off to dinner with some friends, and a couple of friends of friends, who incidentally turned out to be Son Volt's rhythm section, Andrew Duplantis and Dave Bryson. I resisted the urge to go all fanboy on them, and I just kind of enjoyed the fact that I was sitting down to a meal with two members of one of my favorite bands. Suffice it to say that they were both extraordinarily nice and personable fellows, and it's always good to meet musicians that you look up to and have them not turn out to be total dickheads. After dinner it was time to head back to catch the opening act, and I couldn't help but feel like my night was already made. If the show was even remotely good, that just would have been gravy.

The one downside to going to shows in Athens is that they tend to start late. In this instance, the doors weren't until 9 PM, and opening act Peter Bruntnell didn't take the stage until 10 PM. Fortunately, it was well worth the wait. Bruntnell is a stellar singer/songwriter with great songs, a nice voice and he's quite skilled with the acoustic guitar. He's also an extraordinarily charming chap, and his stage banter was worth the price of admission by itself. He played about half of his set by himself, a few songs with Son Volt's lead guitarist, James Walbourne, accompanying him, and the last few songs with Walbourne, Duplantis and Bryson backing him. I picked up a copy of his most recent CD, Peter and the Murder of Crows. It's really good stuff, kind of like English Americana if I had to define, and I'd highly recommend checking it out.

Son Volt took the stage around 11:15 PM and it turned out to be a unique experience. I'm used to seeing them at the Variety Playhouse in Atlanta; they play there every year to a sold-out or close to sold-out crowd of 1,500 or so. The 40 Watt seemed like way too small of a venue for this band to be playing, but nobody, including the band, seemed to mind. The band was actually much looser than I was used to, but given the fact this was a show at a small, intimate club, coupled with the late start and the several drinks I'd already knocked back made it work so perfectly. It was a venue appropriate show, to say the least. They rocked it out for over 90 minutes, tearing through a good portion of American Central Dust, and a diverse range of songs from all of the other Son Volt albums.

The band was on point once again. Bryson and Duplantis had already been rapidly moving their way up my list of favorite rhythm sections, and now they're pretty damn close to the top. I'd love it if this current lineup of the band doesn't change, but I would be downright upset if either one of these two split or got the axe. Mark Spencer was right on with the pedal steel and keys, just like always. If it were possible to steal the show away from Jay Farrar, James Walbourne would have done so. The first time I saw him with the band was only his second appearance with them on this tour. I was plenty impressed then. Now that he's actually had time to learn the songs, and get some more gigs with this incarnation of the band under his belt, I'm ready to anoint him as the absolute best country guitarist I've ever seen.

Walbourne's stellar playing aside, it's actually not possible to steal the show from Jay Farrar. Jay is the show. Jay is one of my ten favorite singers of all time, regardless of genre. And while he isn't out there doing leg kicks and playing his Gretsch with his teeth, that doesn't prevent him from being an extremely engaging front man. Actually, his calm and reserved presence suits his songs very well. This is one of many reasons why most people who go see Son Volt wind up going see them again the next time they come town.

When the set ended and it came time for the encore, they did not disappoint. After starting it with a song from American Central Dust, they played a brilliant version of "Windfall", and a cover of Doug Sahm's "I'm Not That Kat Anymore" that absolutely rocked my face off. As if that wasn't enough they came out and did a nearly six minute long rendition of Waylon Jenning's "Are You Sure Hank Done It This Way?", which someone captured with a video camera and posted on Youtube. It really starts to rock around the 4:00 mark.



And that was it. They could have kept playing, and I wouldn't have complained, but I'm kind of glad they quit right there. For the second time in a row that I saw them, they did not play "Drown". Although I wished they had played it, as it's a genre-defining song in my eyes, I did come to the conclusion that I would have been a bit more upset if they had played "Drown" and omitted "Windfall" from the set. All nit-picking aside, if Son Volt wants to play over 90 minutes, they can play whatever they damn well please, and I'll just shut up and enjoy it.

I need to point out one more observation that I've made over the last few months. If you would have told me in late '05 or early '06, when Wilco was in their YHF/A Ghost is Born period, had just added the amazing Nels Cline as their lead guitarist and released Kickin' Television that I would ever be more interested in what Jay Farrar is doing than what Jeff Tweedy is doing, I would have asked you if I could have some of what you were smoking. Alas, it's 2009, Wilco is making boring daddy-rock that puts me to sleep, and Jay is out there keeping it simple and leaving me wanting more. Times have changed, to say the least.

It looks like there is a brief West Coast engagement over the next couple of weeks, and then the band is done for the rest of the year. I sure hope a Son Volt album and lengthy tour is in the works for '10, because I'll do Athens and Atlanta again. I don't give a damn how sleep deprived I get. Give me my Son Volt fix now; I'll sleep when I'm dead.

The (b)Low Anthem

I heard a band called The Low Anthem doing an in-studio performance on 1690 AM yesterday. Of all of the miserable, boring, sissy folk crap that is so popular today, this might be the band who takes the cake as the most miserable, most boring, and the biggest bunch of sissies. Maybe the sissy bit is unfair, because one of the members is a girl, but it's still pretty limp. Singer Ben Knox Miller has a voice that can only be described as rohypnol for your ears. And that's not only when he's singing. While he was talking to the DJ, I thought I was going to fall asleep in traffic. Then they played another song, and I started hoping I would fall asleep at the wheel and get in a fatal wreck just to put me out of my misery.

I don't want to delve too much deeper into this, because I'm starting to get mad. Here is the point that I think needs to be made. Folk music isn't hard rock. That's obvious. But if you look at its roots, it is rugged music. It's a music about struggle, about being beaten down and hoping or trying to overcome. So authentic folk, even when it's just a guy finger-picking on an acoustic guitar, has an edge to it, when it's done right. Unfortunately, the current wave of this shit is made by a bunch of people who wouldn't even know how to change their own tire if they had a blowout. That's not so rugged now, is it? Nope. Low Anthem falls into the category of American'ta.

Now all that needs to happen is for these douchebags to sign with Sub Pop, because that is clearly where they belong. Why do assholes like these guys insist on taking the fun out of it?

If nothing else, it is making me further anticipate Son Volt's show at the 40 Watt on 11/19. Roots music with balls didn't seem like that foreign of a concept a few years ago, but Jay Farrar appears to be one of the last of a dying breed.

Updates

I've been super busy over the past couple weeks, as Rocktober has been in full effect, but I wanted to touch on a few things:

1) Social Distortion was fucking fabulous on this tour. I saw them at the 40 Watt in Athens on Friday, and at the Shoreline Ballroom in Hilton Head on Sunday. Expect a 2,000 word fluff piece about how awesome Mike Ness is within the next couple of days. It's coming.

2) Last Tuesday, I caught Art Brut at the Earl. Unfortunately, I was too busy getting ready to get out of town to write at length about it then, and now it's not fresh enough in my mind to recount. Suffice it to say that they were a tremendous live act. Eddie Argos is one of the best frontmen I've ever seen, and their set is pure fun. Don't pass up an opportunity to see them in a small club. You'll probably also be surprised at how many of their songs are familiar. I've never owned any of their stuff (that's going to change), and I knew at least half of the songs they played.

3) The soundtrack to the movie about Jack Kerouac, One Fast Move or I'm Gone, has been released. It's a collaboration between Jay Farrar and Benjamin Gibbard. I might check it out, but I probably won't review it. I actually never read Kerouac, so I doubt I'll fully get it. Maybe if it was just a Farrar project, I would be more amped up about it.

4) Speaking of Farrar, since Son Volt was so badass at the Variety Playhouse back in September, I got a ticket to see them at the 40 Watt in November. This is going to be a great show in a great venue. Tickets are still available now, so you should make it happen.

5) I'm going to a party on Halloween night, but I may be looking for a late starting show after that's over. The leading candidates right now would be the Howlies at the Star Bar, or possibly the Modern Skirts at Smith's. If anything else decent is going on, I'm open to suggestion.

Let's look alive and finish Rocktober strong. It's been one for the ages.

Live Music Review

Son Volt
Variety Playhouse
Atlanta, GA
September 11, 2009

We're All Living Proof That Nothing Lasts

I bet that Jay Farrar is a very good bowler. That probably sounds like a strange thing for somebody to say about a rock star, but he has the look of a guy who has rolls, on average, better than 180. Perhaps he's too slim, but he definitely has the face and haircut of a guy who wouldn't look out of place on a Friday at an alley in Roseville, Michigan; knocking over pins and kicking back Miller High Lifes all night. I think maybe it's this everyman quality that makes him such a great singer. It makes it possible for someone who probably isn't desperate (not anymore, anyways) to sing songs about desperation and pull it off flawlessly. Son Volt at the Variety has been a yearly occurrence for the last four years. It's always a Friday night, it always sold out, or close to sold out, and it's always worth the price of admission. It's always a good show. But on 9/11/09, Son Volt was fucking brilliant.

I've seen Son Volt three times in the last four years. It's always been good, but never like this. They tore through 25 or so songs in about an hour and forty minutes. The set list was a great mix of old and new, and they played most of the songs on American Central Dust. All of the new songs featured live arrangements that worked beautifully, particularly "Cocaine and Ashes" and "Dynamite". When it needed to be rough, it was rough. When it needed to be quiet, it was quiet. They played a version of "Windfall" that made me want to start bawling. When all was said and done and I realized that they didn't play "Drown" I was in such awe of what I'd just seen that I didn't give a shit.

I never saw Son Volt 1.0 with Mike Heidorn and the Boquist brothers, but I've seen pretty much every one of their band configurations since. The current one is by far the best. Bassist Andrew Duplantis, and drummer Dave Bryson (he keeps a really neat tour blog, which can be found here) are one of the most formidable rhythm sections I've ever heard, and it really brings a lot to the sound because many artists of this genre keep the bottom end too vanilla. That's kind of lame, and that ain't an issue with these guys. Keyboardist and pedal steel player Mark Spencer is always spot on, and Jay is Jay.

I often tell people jokingly that everything I know about life I learned from Mike Damone from Fast Times at Ridgemont High. It usually elicits a laugh, but the thing is I'm only half kidding when I say that. Sure, he was a fuck-up. But he was a pretty wise fuck-up who offers his protege sage advice throughout the entire film; things that still ring true today. One of the most accurate things that Damone tells Ratner is that a woman decides how far she will let a guy get with her within the first seconds. Most women will tell you this is true, and the ones that deny it are lying. The way I feel about live music is analogous to this axiom. Sometimes it takes a band a few songs to really hit its stride, but generally I can tell pretty quickly how the set is going to go. As far as Friday night went, I knew it was going to be special as soon as Son Volt's new lead guitar and lap steel player, James Walbourne, struck his first note.

James Walbourne, who I had never heard of before last Friday, is one of the best guitar players I've ever seen. That's kind of a loaded statement, but for this band, the guy seems to be a perfect fit. When he rocked out, he struck the strings on his guitars (a really neat looking Gibson Firebird which now has a busted headstock, and what appeared to be a Fender Custom Shop '51 Nocaster Relic) harder than Joe Louis ever beat on anyone from the bum-of-the-month club, and whenever it was time for some chicken pickin', I could have sworn he was channeling Don Rich. Walbourne's feel for this kind of music is nothing short of incredible. And the fucker's a limey. The Kinks may have invented the term by calling one of their records this, but James Walbourne has truly earned the right to be called a Muswell Hillbilly. And by the way, if this isn't already his nickname, it fucking needs to be.

The sound of this show was also phenomenal. Jay's projects have always had great tone, in my opinion. That's probably another reason why I enjoyed Walbourne's playing so much. The tone reminded me of Anodyne-era Farrar, but with a greater degree technical competency. Jay was his usual self, and as always at a SV show, I was thrilled/confused when he finally brought out his Epiphone Les Paul Special (the cheapest guitar that Epiphone makes). He played the first six or so songs with a gorgeous acoustic-electric, and then went straight to the Gretsch, so I thought the Epi didn't make it on the road this time. My fears were relieved, fortunately.

I was so happy that this show exceeded my expectations. If Jay Farrar never released another record, I would still go see him play every year. But he's on the heels of the best album that he's made in years, and he sure looked like he was having a great time on the Variety's stage. This wasn't Jay and a bunch of musicians. This was a real band. Now instead of the usual feeling I have after a Son Volt show, which is 'this was really good, I hope they tour again next year', I'm already trying to make plans to see them at the 40 Watt in November, and I'm anxiously awaiting the release of One Fast Move or I'm Gone, the Kerouac-themed project he recorded with Ben Gibbard. Maybe Jay Farrar isn't a good bowler after all, but he was only a couple pins short of a perfect game the other night at the Variety Playhouse.




P.S. - The opener was Sera Calhoune from Seattle. She has a fabulous voice, considerably better than average guitar chops, good songs, and a great pedal steel player accompanying her. I can't seem to find a web presence of any kind, but keep an eye out for her.

New Music Review

Son Volt
American Central Dust
Rounder Records
CD
















I never make any excuses or apologies about my affection for Jay Farrar's music. The entire Uncle Tupelo discography, particularly No Depression and Anodyne, and Son Volt's debut album, Trace, are all phenomenal, timeless recordings. Call it Americana, or Alt-Country, or Roots-Rock, or anything you please. Whatever you want to call it, there's one thing you cannot deny: Jay Farrar got in on the ground floor of that shit. Nearly 20 years after Uncle Tupelo's first record, people are still trying to do what Jay was doing.

And in my opinion, nobody has been able to do it half as well.

One big reason for this is Jay's unparalelled vocal stylings. Not only is he a great singer, but he has a defining voice for his genre. He just needs to be singing this kind of music, like Hank Williams needed to be singing Country, Sam Cooke needed to be singing soul, and Muddy Waters needed to be singing the blues. No matter what's coming out of his mouth, the natural desperation in Farrar's voice conjures up imagery of the great depression, the dust bowl, or any rural tragedy you can think of. I sometimes wonder if the reason why Wilco decided to ditch Alt-Country in favor of a more experimental pop sound was because Jeff Tweedy knew he could never do this better than Jay. Obviously, Jeff found his niche, and he's much bigger than Farrar will ever be, but I sometimes wonder. Trace blows A.M. out of the water, and none of the rootsy songs on Being There sound as good as any of the early Son Volt stuff.

Unfortunately, such a blessing can sometimes be a curse. Often times, when you do one thing really well, the tendency can be to get complacent. Why take chances on something new when you have a reliable formula that works, and also makes you decent money? American Central Dust is the third Son Volt release since Farrar reformed the band in 2005. The first two are both solid records. But they both sound like attempts to recreate the magic of Trace. And that isn't necessarily a bad thing, but at least for me it makes me less enthusiastic about both them, because I would really rather just listen to Trace than an attempt to rehash it. I don't want to be overly critical about this; Jay has earned a pass from me for his previous greatness, and the live show is still great, so I don't want to imply that any of this is bad. It's just kind of boring. With its latest release, however, it appears that American Central Dust is a great step forward for Son Volt 2.0.

Instead of attempting a big studio sound, American Central Dust has a stripped down feel that makes perfect sense and accentuates the bands strengths. Jay's voice is the dominant instrument on this album, and that's the way it needs to be. The band is tight and tasteful, and each member does a great job with the space allotted to him. Lead guitarist Chris Masterson has a look straight from Look at this Fucking Hipster!, but he sounds like he was born to play country guitar, and although I never thought I would say this, is a better fit for this band than former Backslider Brad Rice was. Andrew DuPlantis (bass guitar) and Dave Bryson (drums) prove to be a dead-on rhythm section, and Mark Spencer chips in on keyboards, lap steel and pedal steel.

Where it hits:

All over the place. "Dynamite" is the leadoff track, and it's classic Farrar with what sounds like an accordion accompaniment. "Cocaine and Ashes" is a piano-driven ballad that sounds like it's probably written from the perspective of Keith Richards, and it's fantastic. "Dust of Daylight" is so catchy and earthy it may as well have been written by Gram Parsons himself. "Pushed too Far" is a slow number about genuine midwestern desperation that John Mellencamp wishes he could have written, and the closing track, "Jukebox of Steel" sounds just like some of the best country numbers from Uncle Tupelo's later years. The best song on this record is "When the Wheels Don't Move", which is percussive, haunting, and crunchy. Farrar sings lyric about lost jobs and lost hope like nobody else can, while a distorted steel guitar plays along. Somehow it sounds like a cross between folk and shoegazer. I know that probably sounds awful, but believe me, it works like a charm.

Where it misses:

There's only one bad song on this effort. The piano and violin driven "Sultana" recalls the tale of the steamboat disaster of the same name. It's bad. I mean really bad. My advice to Jay is to leave songs about maritime disasters to Gordon Lightfoot.


Overall, this is not only a great sounding effort from Son Volt, but it's one that leaves me optimistic about the band's future. I get the feeling that they can deviate from the norm enough to keep it fresh, while still retaining their best qualities and doing what they do best. Well done, Mr. Farrar.

Son Volt plays the Variety Playhouse next Friday, September 11th. I'm going to go and you should too. Hope to see you there.