You have to wonder what people are thinking sometimes. An example: You're leafing through the record racks and you come across an album by The Burning River Ramblers. Has to be Bluegrass or Country, right? Guess again. These ramblers are mainstream rock (from Cleveland and Athens, they say on their website). Well, maybe not straight ahead mainstream rock, but mainstream enough. But seriously? With literally thousands and maybe millions of combinations they could come up with, they settle on Burning River Ramblers? What's next? A folk duo called Amplified Baby Puke? A death metal band called Flowing Sequins? Maybe I'm out of line here, but shouldn't the name of the band give you a clue as to what sort of music they produce?
That aside, if I have to listen to mainstream, please let it be to a band at least this good. I think I've had a stroke recently because a handful of bands have sounded like Oami to me lately, and I'm sure you are asking who that is. When I returned to writing music reviews after a long layoff, Oami's Day In the City was among my first. Recorded and released in 2005, the album steamrolled me and I never really understood why. I found it fresh and just outside the mainstream, or at least that's how I choose to remember it. God only knows what I actually wrote (you can read the review here), but I'm sure I meant every word of it. I listened to that album a lot back then and still occasionally pull it out to refresh my memory, usually with the thought that I should revisit it more often.
The reason that I bring that up is that {:to color a fool} steamrolls me today in the same way that Day In the City did back then. Both bands have that ability to tap dance around a song with light rhythmic touches--- sometimes syncopated, sometimes latin, sometimes just jazz-riffy--- and those touches make the difference. Surround those rhythms with smooth vocals (and a slew of vocal hooks), flowing backup, and an attitude which reminds me more than a bit of early Steely Dan, and you have a band worthy of attention.
Cleveland. The home of another favorite, Dan Miraldi & The Albino Winos. Home base for The Damnation of Adam Blessing, The Raspberries and The Euclid Beach Band. A city full of riffmeisters and chooglers (The Burning River Ramblers qualify in both categories).
(Frank Gutch Jr. writes and has written
for numerous magazines and websites, presently including this blog,
his
own website and the
prestigious Don't
Believe A Word I Saysite
put together by musician and music pundit Bob Segarini,
out of Toronto. He specializes in the Indies, having fought
hand-to-hand combat with major record labels for decades (talk about
zombies).
He believes music should be the core of the music business, though
business it mostly be, and denies the accepted reality in the stead
of the artistic one. Seldom does he receive pay for articles and/or
reviews and believes that there is no place for negatives in a world
in which one cannot keep up with the positives. He is, in a sense, a
lost soul in a sea of music, drowning, but drowning gratefully.)
Want to know what mainstream rock is? To me, it's anything that sounds like it could have received airplay in the early- to mid-seventies. That was the magic period for rock (or what is now known as "classic" rock) and that is what I yearn for most in this day of eighties- and nineties sounds masquerading as music. Sometimes I want to scream for musicians to put those goddamn synthesizers down, just because I hear them misused too damned much. Give me a guitar or a Hammond B-3 anyday--- well, not always. But you get my drift, don't you? I mean, enough is enough, already!
So when the Nate Jones Band's EP crossed my desk, I was more than ready. No synthesizers here, or at least not synthesizers for the sake of synthesizers. No dance music for the sake of dance. Just good solid rock the way it was once played--- for the music and for the song. Not to sound like anything or anybody. Mainstream rock, sports fans, is organic rock. No forced sidesteps toward something for the wrong reason. Straight forward rock. And not hard rock or metal or any music of sub-genre status. Rock for the sake of the song.
Jones pieced together five good ones here, one which knocks me on my keister, and they bring back the days of Bill Puka and the electric James Taylor and Jim Dawson and a whole string of artists who deserved more than they got (this list is longer than my arm, people, and my arms are long). Jesse Colin Young comes to mind on Ophelia (a Robbie Robertson tune and the only non-original). Remember Grizzly Bear off the self-titled Youngbloods' album? Something like that. What Goes Up is a bit more folkie than the rest, but it is a good folk tune. Wandering Love and Another Night, Another Town are good rockers in the vein of, say, Loggins & Messina or Stu Nunnery.
The real treasure on the EP, for myself at least, is the more electric and rocking Honest Man, complete with exceptional and tasty lead guitar and keyboards. Mid-tempo, it relies as much on rhythm as melody/harmony. This I would classify as L&M at their best, and though I never cared much for their hits, I have to admit that when they hit the note, it was a good one.
Bad thing is, I could have used maybe five more tracks to smooth things out. Sitting down to a few songs is okay, but these guys make me want to hear more. Sometimes, five just ain't enough. Here's a taste.
Frank O. Gutch Jr.
(Frank Gutch Jr. writes and has written
for numerous magazines and websites, presently including this blog,
his
own website and the
prestigious Don't
Believe A Word I Saysite
put together by musician and music pundit Bob Segarini,
out of Toronto. He specializes in the Indies, having fought
hand-to-hand combat with major record labels for decades (talk about
zombies).
He believes music should be the core of the music business, though
business it mostly be, and denies the accepted reality in the stead
of the artistic one. Seldom does he receive pay for articles and/or
reviews and believes that there is no place for negatives in a world
in which one cannot keep up with the positives. He is, in a sense, a
lost soul in a sea of music, drowning, but drowning gratefully.)
The things that get sat on. A friend sat on my Fats Domino 45 back in '56--- Blueberry Hill, it was. I've sat on numerous pairs of glasses (the hazards of not having glasses on, I suppose). I had to sit on a friend once when he went berserk in a tavern and wanted to fight all-comers. I always make reference to people sitting on their thumbs. I've sat through a plethora of movies, some of which I liked. I've even had the occasional wish to be sat on, mostly in reference to and with shared reverence (alongside The Rotters) of Stevie Nicks. Let's face it. Sitting is part of life. But when sitting is in reference to the many albums I receive for review purposes, I shake my head.
A prime example is one sweet EP/mini-LP from Signature Sounds Records by one Miss Tess & The Talkbacks titled The Love I Have For You. I sat on this beauty for months, moving it down the food chain for God knows how long. I kept reading glowing reviews and swore I would get to it soon, but soon seemed to not come soon enough, I guess. I finally pulled it from the bottom of a pile and put it on and, goddamn! This puppy is every bit as good as those reviews claimed.
What makes it so? I would say that it is the ease with which the band cruises down the roots highway. Yep, it's roots. And for those who don't know what "roots" is, let me give you my definition. To me, it is music riding on the back of the past, a beast full of influences tried and true over the years. Sometimes it's blues, sometimes it's R&B, sometimes jazz. In Miss Tess's case, it is rock 'n' roll and Country & Western, two genres which were somewhat married at the hip in the fifties and sixties. I mean, look at the charts. I certainly never looked upon Faron Young and Ferlin Husky and even Marty Robbins as country, not in the beginning, though they became so as the genres split. Even when I listen to Hank Williams, I hear a lot of rock 'n' roll. So when musicians look to the past, that's roots.
Miss Tess & The Talkbacks (this is a band, sports fans, not a singer with backup) step beyond just the roots in terms of influence on this one. They actually cover the artists' songs. Now, I am not a fan of cover songs. I think covers are best left for the barroom floor because they push back the originals I so want to hear all the time. But it seems musicians are right now carried away with this fad of "giving tribute" to songs, if not albums, and I have to live with it. In this case, though, I waive my dislike of fad for the musicality of The Love I Have For You.
It helps that it starts out with a great rocker from the catalog of Ted Hawkins, Sorry You're Sick. Upbeat and bouncy, the song is a perfect fit for Tess's vocal, uh, stylings, shall we say? While she rocks the vocals, The Talkbacks choogle the bandside like they were born to it. The only original, The Love I Have For You, is a flashback to the rock 'n' roll era a la Elvis and his ilk, reminiscent of late-fifties and early-sixties rock and country. Gotta give credit for picking The Alabama Waltz out of the Hank Williams songbook instead of one of the standards we hear all the time. I have most of what Hank has ever recorded, commercially at least, and am shocked that others don't dig this deep. Can't do country much better than covering Willie (no last name needed) and his Night Life is handled beautifully here. Randy Newman? I mean, Randy Newman? If Bet No One Ever Hurt This Bad did not have the awful Spinning Wheel chord progression on the first line, I would like this more. It was hard for me to get beyond it after having hated that song for decades, but give the band credit that I am willing to overlook what I consider a Newman gaffe. If Tess had to cover anyone, I would think that it would be Bonnie Raitt and she and band kick a bit of jumpin' blues on Raitt's Give It Up Or Let Me Go. A good fit. Neil Young has written some fine songs over his career, but I find his country-ish songs disappointing, on the whole. Still, The Talkbacks carry Hold Back the Tears into the desert and conjure up dust and dusters. They also conjure up salty beer and salty tears. More than one man (or woman, for that matter) has tried to heal romantic wounds with alcohol. Another beer, bartender, and a quarter for the jukebox.
Like I said earlier, if anything holds this collection of songs together it is the ease with which Tess and band handle them. This listens like a great night at the local tavern, guys and gals in cowboy boots sliding over the dance floor and beer flowing smoothly. I am downright embarrassed to have missed it last September when it was released. Damn embarrassed.
While the song in this video is from a different project, it shows the basis for the praise heaped upon the band. One day, I hope to see them live, the gods willing.
Frank O. Gutch Jr.
(Frank Gutch Jr. writes and has written
for numerous magazines and websites, presently including this blog,
his
own website and the
prestigious Don't
Believe A Word I Saysite
put together by musician and music pundit Bob Segarini
out of Toronto. He specializes in the Indies, having fought
hand-to-hand combat with major record labels for decades (talk about
zombies).
He believes music should be the core of the music business, though
business it mostly be, and denies the accepted reality in the stead
of the artistic one. Seldom does he receive pay for articles and/or
reviews and believes that there is no place for negatives in a world
in which one cannot keep up with the positives. He is, in a sense, a
lost soul in a sea of music--- drowning, but drowning gratefully.)
