Alt. Country

The Spin Doctor – Wilco, “The Whole Love”

Posted: 09/25/2011 4:25 pm

Wilco, “The Whole Love” (dBpm/ANTI-)

4.0 out of 5

Rest assured, there will be those that will call Wilco’s latest effort, The Whole Love, a “return to form”, which is arguably the laziest of all music critic clichés. And, while it might aptly describe a band firmly planted within a single genre, for a band that wears as many hats as Wilco, the only appropriate response is a snarky: “return to which form?” A return to the Lennon/McCartney pop gems of Summerteeth? The glitchy Jim O’Rourke production magic of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot? The pharmacological krautrock of A Ghost Is Born? The guitar-driven, 70’s classic rock of Sky Blue Sky and Wilco (The Album)? Or the alt-country leanings that have permeated each and every record going back to Wilco’s 1995 debut? In other words, “return to form” will mean different things to different Wilco fans. What is immediately clear, however, is that after two consecutive records of bland complacency, Wilco once again sounds focused, and still capable of a sharp left turn or two.

Currently in its 5^th incarnation, this is the first time in Wilco’s 17-year history that the band has recorded three records with the same members. While frontman, Jeff Tweedy has been quite vocal in claiming that the current lineup is the band’s best, it has taken three records to bear that out. Much of the lineup criticism has been targeted at guitarist Nels Cline. Often coming off as a bold attempt to pad mediocre songcraft with histrionic guitar leads, Cline’s work on the last two LPs proved a guitar virtuoso is only as beneficial as his ability to meld with the artists around him. On The Whole Love however, Cline’s contribution feels complementary, and more textural than virtuosic. His frenetic playing at the wild conclusion of 7-minute, jaw-dropping opener “Art of Almost” feels earned in the controlled chaos of the arrangement. Likewise, it’s Cline’s distorted slide guitar line during the instrumental chorus of “Born Alone” that gives the track the necessary abrasiveness to rank it among Wilco’s best pop songs. “I was born to die alone”, sings Tweedy in an arrangement that juxtaposes a lyrical darkness with instantly catchy guitar-pop, an effect Wilco perfected on 1999’s Summerteeth, but has rarely employed in recent years.

While Cline’s guitar work is top notch, the real stars of The Whole Love are drummer Glenn Kotche and bassist John Stirratt. Long the unsung heroes of Wilco’s live shows, Kotche and Stirratt are finally getting the LP exposure they so rightly deserve. Pushed to the front of the mix, the two bring a collective punch that runs throughout the record. Their interplay on opener “Art of Almost” and first single “I Might” is nothing short of brilliant, while their more restrained work on tracks such as the gorgeous ballad “Black Moon” show that, despite the heightened exposure, neither musician is above being economical. Credit not only producers Tweedy and Tom Schick for this move, but also keyboardist and multi-instrumentalist Pat Sansone who, for the first time, gets his own production credit.

Texturally, The Whole Love is far more intricate than the last two LPs. Be it the glockenspiel backing the Motown driven guitar-pop of “I Might”, clearly another nod to Summerteeth, the mellotron of “Black Moon”, or the pedal steel which runs throughout “Rising Red Lung”, Wilco has clearly utilized the luxury of owning its own record label to take its time in exploring the minutiae of each and every arrangement. This is no more apparent than on 12-minute album closer, “One Sunday Morning (Song for Jane Smiley’s Boyfriend)”. The song’s simple repeating guitar progression incorporates piano, pedal steel, bass, minimal percussion and a host of additional instrumentation floating in the background. It could have resulted in a gratuitous mess, yet ends up being one of the band’s finest moments: “I am cold for my father, frozen underground. Jesus I wouldn’t bother, he belongs to me now.” sings Tweedy, telling the haunting story of a father and son and the religious conflict that exists between them.

With new-found creative control comes the new-found importance of an editor, and although The Whole Love is a good 56-minute record it could have been a great 45-minute record. Tweedy remains enamoured with late 60’s era Beatles and this bogs down tracks such as “Sunloathe”, “Open Mind” and “Capitol City” which disrupt the overall flow of the record. That said, this is the first Wilco album in close to a decade where the band sounds not only like the sum of its parts, but a band that is still willing to take some chances, or, in Tweedy’s words, willing to “measure [oneself] against ridiculous heights of glory, with the firmly rooted reality that reaching that is impossible.”

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The Spin Doctor – Richard Buckner, “Our Blood”

Posted: 07/30/2011 9:35 am

Richard Buckner – “Our Blood” (Merge Records)

4.1 out of 5

Whether or not you’re a fan of American alt-country veteran Richard Buckner, it’s hard not to feel for the man. Following a prolific run of releases through the 90’s and early 00’s, it has been five years since Buckner has released an LP, although not for a lack of trying. With his real life trials and tribulations playing like a character from a Lars von Trier film, it’s a wonder Our Blood ever saw the light of day:

1. Completed film score for a film that never happened: check.

2. Loss of material due to complete and utter failure of recording equipment: check.

3. Further loss of material due to burglarized apartment and stolen laptop: check.

4. Murder investigation involving a burned-out car, headless corpse and Buckner’s truck: check.

For an artist not exactly known for his verbosity, it was Buckner himself who in a single sentence (albeit an extremely long one) best summarized the whole debacle: “Insinuations were re-insinuated until the last percussive breaths of those final OCD utterances were expelled like the final heaves of bile, wept-out long after climactic drama had faded to a somber, blurry moment of truth and voilå!, the record was done, or, let us be clear, abandoned like the charred shell of a car with a nice stereo.” Enough said.

With such a dramatic back-story, one might expect the nine song collection of Our Blood to be among the bleakest of Buckner’s catalogue. Even some of the titles suggest as much: “Traitor”, “Thief” and “Collusion”. Our Blood certainly hints at something dark and desolate, yet the warm and full arrangements aren’t nearly as bleak as one might expect. Buckner has always exercised great restraint in his arrangements and Our Blood is no exception. Tracks such as opener “Traitor” and the excellent “Thief” integrate guitars, pedal steel, organ and well placed electronic atmospherics. Yet just when you think the guitars are going to take-off, Buckner reels everything back in. It’s a compelling effect and it leaves a lot of minutiae to explore on repeated listens, such as the guitar work on “Thief” which sounds like it was performed using old, rusted strings. As for Buckner’s vocals, they’re as weathered and grainy as ever. On the more stripped arrangements such as “Escape” and “Hindsight”, Buckner’s warm voice is given room to really dominate the mix: “Let’s waste the night. Pay the price and get out of here”, he sings on “Escape”, something of a mantra for the record, “It’s not enough, backing up just to disappear. Without a fight, they’ll never know we’ve won.”

At the precise mid-point of the record, instrumental “Ponder” is the aural equivalent of tumbleweed rolling through the desert. Easily the bleakest moment on the record, the track plays as the perfect interlude between the record’s first and second half. And, thankfully, the second half picks-up much where the first left off. “Witness” has a wonderful march behind the guitars, and the organ brings a real warmth to the track, while the acoustic guitars of “Confession” play as the sister track to the first half’s “Escape”: “Come when you can, so close to the light. You won’t understand when there’s no place to hide from what we’ve done. When will you come?”

With regard to tempo, there’s not much variation to be found on Our Blood, but then that’s kind of the point. At nine tracks and 37 minutes in length, Our Blood is an economical and brilliantly restrained mood piece: nothing feels out of place, and each track is perfectly complementary of the last. There are so many subtleties to discover on Our Blood that you may feel as if you’re missing something after only a few listens. Like the somewhat enigmatic song titles, the record takes time to reveal itself, but it is well worth the effort.

At this point in Buckner’s career (Our Blood is his 10^th LP), it feels cheap and cliché to speak of his “cult following” and fringe status. Although he may never enjoy the commercial success of some of his contemporaries, Buckner’s fan base is strong enough to keep him going for as long as he feels he has something to say. From his excellent debut Bloomed, back in 1994 to the present, Buckner’s mission statement has remained the same: compelling song craft with equally compelling lyricism. If that’s not a good enough combination to sell records to the masses, then that’s just their loss.

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Tagged: Alt. CountryAmericanaBloomedBurglaryCollusionEscapeMurder InvestigationMusic ReviewOur BloodPonderReviewRichard BucknerSpin DoctorThiefTraitorWitness

The Spin Doctor – My Morning Jacket, “Circuital”

Posted: 06/3/2011 8:45 am

My Morning Jacket – “Circuital”

3.4 out 5

It’s hard to believe that it’s been over a decade since Kentucky five-piece, My Morning Jacket, released their debut LP, The Tennessee Fire. Packed full of alt-country leanings, folk, classic southern rock, and vocals recorded in a grain silo (seriously…), their impressive debut was then bested two years later with the longer, jammier At Dawn. The successful double-shot was good enough to get the band a major record deal with BMG/ATO in 2002. It was then smooth sailing until 2008’s mess of a record, Evil Urges. Though MMJ can’t be blamed for pushing the boundaries of their progressively proggy sound (see the excellent “Touch Me I’m Going to Scream Pt.2”), Evil Urges missed far more than it hit (see the horrific “Highly Suspicious”). Thus, it was with great excitement, and by “excitement”, what I really mean is “trepidation”, that I approached their sixth LP, Circuital. The good news is that it’s better than Evil Urges; the bad news is that the critical propaganda citing “return to form” and “best record since At Dawn” is way off the mark. Immensely front-loaded, Circuital plays more like an exceptional EP that’s been stretched to a mediocre LP.

Things start off impressively. The first three tracks are sequenced perfectly, bleeding one into the other. The opener, “Victory Dance”, starts with a gong hit, organ and Jim James questioning rhetorically: “Should I close my eyes and prophesize, hoping maybe someday come?” At the conclusion of the first verse, the bass and percussion drop, resulting in the sort of slow, trudging, jammy groove MMJ have been justifiably padding their bank accounts with for sometime. While the tempo remains constant, the track’s momentum gradually builds to a huge, blown-out crescendo. Although I would have appreciated a little more of a pay-off, MMJ more than compensates on the title track. Keeping things fairly simple for the first two minutes, “Circuital” erupts with some of the best electric guitar work on the record. Critics often talk about the strength of James’ vocals, which are certainly evident here; less discussed, however, is how James is largely responsible for making extended guitar solos cool again. MMJ is famous for their impressive live jams, yet have somehow managed to do so while remaining relevant among hipsters and indie rockers alike, and, more importantly, avoiding that cheeky “dad rock” moniker. That’s quite a feat considering the band emerged in the era of stripped, lo-fi, garage rock.

“The Day Is Coming” completes the opening trio with some spacey Flaming Lips-like organ and vocal harmonies, picking up where their 2005 LP, Z left off. This gives way to the acoustic-guitar driven “Wonderful (The Way I Feel)”, one of the finer moments on the record. Road-tested with James’ side-project Monsters of Folk, “Wonderful” is a gorgeous lap steel and string-accompanied ballad that really captures the richness of James’ vocals. Moving into the second half of the record, unfortunately, is when things fall apart. “Outta My System” and its amusing drug narrative (“They told me not to smoke drugs, but I wouldn’t listen. Never thought I’d get caught and wind up in prison.”), is wrapped around Beach Boys’ layered vocal production, and pedal-steel guitar that’s derivative at best. Equally amusing, “Holdin’ On To Black Metal” is an instructional tale on the perils of, as its title infers, not growing out of Black Metal fan-dom. Somewhat ironically, the track’s arrangement is wrapped up in a brass filled, children’s choir backed, funk jam. It’s not quite as bad as Evil Urges’ “Highly Suspicious”, but it’s pretty darn close. Elsewhere, “Slow Slow Tune” has some pretty atmospherics and guitar work, but, again, for a track that has so much going on (guitars, drums, bass, organ, vocal harmonies), it somehow sounds like a kitsch rendition of a 1950’s slow-dance number.

I can’t recall the last time I listened to a record that was so front-loaded. Circuital plays like the honeymoon phase of a relationship destined for failure. All of the energy and muscle of the record’s first half all but dissipates by the fifth track. According to the band and producer, Tucker Martine, Circuital was recorded in a church gymnasium in Louisville, Kentucky in an attempt to capture the huge, live sound MMJ are so famous for. Though there are moments where I buy that argument, on the whole, Circuital simply doesn’t come close to capturing the energy of an MMJ live performance. My recommendation to you, the listener, is to download the first four tracks of Circuital and pretend it’s an EP. That way you can relive that joyous honeymoon over and over without ever having to wonder what might have been.

- Ewan Christie

Circuital is currently streaming in its entirety on MMJ’s myspace page

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Tagged: Alt. CountryAt DawnCircuitalClassic RockEvil UrgesHighly SuspiciousIt MovesJammyJim JamesMy Morning JacketProgProggyRockSouthern RockThe Tennessee FireTouch Me I'm Going to ScreamZ

The Spin Doctor – Dolorean, “The Unfazed”

Posted: 04/22/2011 7:43 am

Dolorean – The Unfazed

3.9 out of 5

Not to be confused with Spanish electro-pop band “Delorean”, or the infamous stainless steel paneled car of “Back To The Future” fame, Dolorean takes its name from “dolorous”, an adjective meaning grievous, or to cause pain. Considering the Portland, Oregon-based band craft songs of aching, introspective Americana in the vein of Joe Purdy and Richard Buckner, the name is rather apt. Over the last decade, Dolorean have quietly put together a respectable discography that culminated in 2007’s stellar You Can’t Win. Despite widespread critical acclaim and a lengthy European and North American tour, it failed to create the sort of commercial buzz the band (and, more notably, its label) hoped for. Rather than pack it in for good, the band went on a three-year hiatus, and parted ways with their former label before returning, with their fourth full-length album, The Unfazed. Despite lacking the raw, live approach of You Can’t Win, The Unfazed is a rewarding, more sonically diverse record than its predecessor.

Dolorean’s greatest strength remains singer/guitarist and principal songwriter, Al James. A poet in his pre-Dolorean life, James’ clean, almost whispered vocals are well matched for the band’s musical arrangements. Yet his greatest strength is his uncanny ability to combine understated yet striking melodies with impeccable lyricism. It’s this distinction that helps The Unfazed rise above typical folk/alt. country fare. Although there’s nothing particularly novel about a record recounting a relationship gone sour, James drops lines that go well beyond your run of the mill “you done me wrong”. Take the second track, “Country Clutter”, for example. The near syrupy melody and backing vocals, courtesy of Mara Lee Miller of Bosque Brown, are cut with lyrics that are anything but remorseful: “If you find anything I left behind, well you can have it. Let it clutter up your life, the way you cluttered up mine.” Even Robert Johnson rarely sounded so pissed off. And therein lies The Unfazed’s inherently contradictory sound. Although the music is wistful and the arrangements are rich, James’ lyrics feel like a sucker punch to the kidneys.

The Unfazed is a decidedly different beast to that of You Can’t Win. Though lacking the rawness found on the latter, (a by-product of its near live recording style), The Unfazed’s cleaner production has resulted in sharper arrangements. On the moody “Black Hills Gold”, the mid-tempo number is complemented with organ flourishes, fantastic drumming and some stellar electric guitar work. The same can be said for “Hard Working Dogs” where backing vocals, piano and fiddle perfectly flesh-out the mix: “Give-up this touch-up job” sings James, “there’s no way to make it pretty.” “Fools Gold Ring” contains some distressing observations on a broken relationship: “It’s just a fools coin toss”, says James. Things don’t get much better by the chorus. Juxtaposed with a dazzling pedal steel guitar line, James explains: “Even fools have needs” and “It’s just a fools gold ring.” The track is one of the more devastating moments on the record, both in its beauty and its lyrical directness.

It’s that aforementioned lyrical directness that makes The Unfazed such a pleasure to revisit. In the liner notes for You Can’t Win, James commented that the title’s philosophy had become something of a rallying cry for the band. It appears as if Dolorean have stuck with a similarly cathartic approach here. Though they may never attain the level of commercial success of some of their contemporaries, they’ve perfected a sound uniquely their own. If the worst thing that Dolorean does is to continue to churn out records as sublime as The Unfazed, I have a hunch they’ll be just fine.

- Ewan Christie

Tagged: Al JamesAlt. CountryCountryDoloreanEwan ChristieFolkMusic ReviewOregonPortlandRockThe Spin DoctorThe UnfazedThe Unfazed reviewYou Can't Win

The Spin Doctor – Bill Callahan, Apocalypse

Posted: 04/8/2011 7:32 am

Bill Callahan – Apocalypse

3.9 out of 5

Bill Callahan could very well be the greatest American singer-songwriter you’ve never heard of. Callahan fans would no doubt scoff at such a suggestion, particularly considering he has been releasing a steady stream of records since 1990 (including his work recorded under the band name Smog, Apocalypse is Callahan’s 15^th LP). That said, Callahan’s work has never really cracked the mainstream, and I’m always surprised at the number of singer-songwriter aficionados unaware of his extensive catalogue. If you happen to be among them, you too may soon be singing his praises.

There’s something immediately striking about Callahan’s style. Part classic rock, part folk, part alt-country; his songs are often void of the traditional verse-chorus structure, opting instead for simple, repetitive chord progressions and fantastic lyrical phrasing. Most striking is his baritone voice. Though somewhat lacking in range, his delivery is direct and void of any reverb or other vocal effects. Listening to a Callahan record often feels like he’s sitting in your living room, telling you a story: every word is clearly articulated, and every lyric conjures vivid imagery.

As Paul Ryan’s cover art suggests, Apocalypse is a record about the American West (the painting is titled “Apocalypse at Mule Ears Peak, Big Bend National Park in West Texas”). As I was listening to Apocalypse’s seven songs, I couldn’t help but think they would have provided the perfect soundtrack to the Coen Brother’s recent screen adaptation of Charles Portis’ True Grit. Both are commentary on America’s Manifest Destiny, the Western Frontier, and of a country for better (and often for worse), in transition. Moreover, like True Grit, Apocalypse is subtle and slowly paced, yet interspersed with moments of loud violence, which is indicative of the very landscape and period it describes. The intention is apparent in the opening chords of lead-off track “The Drover”: “The real people went away” sings Callahan, accompanied by acoustic guitar, percussion and an electric guitar twang straight out of a Sergio Leone film. “One thing about this wild, wild country” sings Callahan in the chorus: “It takes a strong, strong, it breaks a strong, strong mind. And anything less makes me feel like I’m wasting my time.”

“Baby’s Breath” is a beautiful slow burner, telling the story of a man who finds a plot of land and a bride to share it with. The track constantly shifts tempo and gradually builds to a wonderful climax, courtesy of Matt Kinsey’s fantastic electric guitar accompaniment. The mood quickly changes for third track “America!”, the one jarring and divisive moment on an otherwise concise record. At times unabashedly sarcastic: “America, you are so grand and golden”, the track goes on to reference some of America’s more abhorrent acts of cultural imperialism; including Vietnam, Iran and Native America. As the country’s military representatives, Callahan cites some of his songwriting heroes by their actual rank and respective branches of the military: “Captain Kristofferson, Buck Sergeant Newbury, Leatherneck Jones, Sergeant Cash”. However, in the midst of all the military jingoism, he takes time to clarify that he himself never served his country. By the end of its 5:33 running time, if the wry, sarcasm of “America!” hasn’t caught your ear, the thumping kick drum and screaming, distorted electric guitar certainly will.

Callahan gives you a moment to relax again with “Universal Applicant” before dishing out what has to be the most beautiful moment on the record, “Riding for the Feeling.” Here the harshness of “America!” is replaced with soft brushes, melodic and understated electric guitar, and Jonathan Meiburg’s Wurlitzer. The album closes with “One Fine Morning”, a simple two-chord ballad that despite an almost nine minute running time never loses its trajectory. The track has a wonderful warmth and off-the cuff nature to it: “Yeah one fine morning, yeah it’s all coming back to me now. My apocalypse.” It’s a solid closer to a solid record.

Though much of Smog’s earlier work was often characterized as “lo-fi”, Callahan’s solo records are expertly produced, and Apocalypse is no exception. His voice is upfront and personal, and there are no production tricks, or fancy effects in sight. It’s refreshing to listen to a record where all of its collective parts are readily accessible and perfectly complementary. Gordon Butler’s fiddle, the percussion, pianos, and guitars are all clearly discernable, yet never compromise Callahan’s lyrical directness. For an artist who has been releasing music for over twenty years, the quality of Callahan’s catalogue is impeccably consistent, and one that any songwriter would be envious of. If you feel like stepping back in time, and traversing through an older, more rustic America, then Apocalypse is your record. Just don’t be surprised if you become a Bill Callahan fan in the process.

- Ewan Christie