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Vintage Review: Pete Berwick's Give It Time (2011)

I dunno, just when I think that this whole promising alt-country thing has run its inevitable course, someone comes along to renew my faith in the ghost of Gram Parsons. Singer/songwriter Pete Berwick has been walking that ‘Lonesome Highway’ all by himself for more years than he’d probably care to add up, but in the hallowed tradition of Hank, JC, Gram, and all those other cosmic troubadours that ran afoul of Nashville’s corporate Music Row and decided to just do the damn thing their way, Berwick continues to amaze and astound with each new collection of songs.

I’m proud to say that Berwick is a friend of mine, and Peter knows me well enough to know that I’d call bullshit if he dared to deliver anything short of greatness. No worries, ‘cause Give It Time is his latest, a near-perfect melding of country and rock music, Berwick channeling the reckless energy and boundless enthusiasm of Hank Williams and Elvis Presley in creating an album that leans heavily towards the punk side of the cowpunk equation, the singer and songwriter sounding as pissed-off and proud as any nineteen-year-old. After decades suffering the indignities and insults of the music biz, Berwick remains a streetwalkin’ cheetah with a heart full of napalm, and with Give It Time he’s once again rolled the bones and come up with snake-eyes.

The album-opening “Renegade” is a defiant statement of purpose, an outlaw credo delivering with an unimaginable fury that is as hardcore punk in spirit as anything that you’ll hear from either the punk-rock or alt-country crowd. With unbridled guitars chomping at your eardrums, syncopated rhythms and fierce vocals deliver the (autobiographical?) tale of living fast, dying young, and leaving behind a burned-out corpse. Berwick slows the pace only slightly for “I Keep Waiting”, an unabashed rocker with a heart of gold, swirling guitars and bash-crash rhythms creating a disconcerting wall of sound on top of which Berwick lays down his whiskey-soaked vocals and one of the greasiest, most fulfilling guitar solos you’ll ever hear. In the distant background, Jason Botka’s honky-tonk piano-pounding sounds like the din creeping out of a back-alley barroom.

“Won’t Give It Up” is another crucified rocker that displays Berwick’s deft touch as a wordsmith, the song’s blistering soundtrack pumped up by Berwick’s non-stop verbal barrage. Shaking a bloody fist at the record-making establishment, Berwick spits out muscular lines like “you wanna see scars, I got ‘em”; “the world don’t care if you live or die, one man laughs while another cries”; and “gotta make a stand for something, ain’t settling for nothing”; and “tell me are you really satisfied, do you think that it’s too late to try, maybe for you but not for me…I won’t give it up!” Nashville’s star-making machinery may have turned its back on Berwick and his fellow travelers on the fringe of “polite” country music, but this is one hombre that ain’t going down without a fight, not while there’s still one last breath and a chance to spit in authority’s face.

Even the ballads on Give It Time (“My Heart Is On Hold”) rattle and clank like rusty machinery beneath the weight of the songwriter’s angst and frustration. Berwick imbues the song with so much heartache and anguish that you’ll bury your head under the bedcovers for a week if you approach the tune without caution. None of the songwriting-by-committee that creates many of Music Row’s hits these days comes anywhere close to expressing the sort of emotion and fire that you’ll find in “My Heart Is On Hold,” the song’s conflicted protagonist turning his back on love to venture off into the uncertain badlands walked by lonesome wanderers from Ricky Nelson and Dion to Bruce Springsteen and Steve Earle. To lighten up the load a bit after better than a half-dozen mind-numbing exercises in seriously heartfelt songwriting, the humorous rave-up “Beer” is a cleverly glib ode to that golden-brown honky-tonk beverage favored worldwide.

Berwick is an outlaw and outcast by choice, not by marketing, and the magic displayed by “Falling From the Circle of Love” shows that he can write commercial country fare with the best of ‘em…hell, better than just about any of them, really, and some smart label suit could score a big hit for one of his artists with this elegant love song. That would make ol’ Pete a bundle of well-deserved cash, and besides, nobody is going to do the song better, Berwick’s leathery vocals standing in stark contrast to the song’s elegant construction and Botka’s wonderful piano-work. “The Sadness In Your Eyes” is another fine romantic moment, kind of bittersweet and tear-stained but evidence of the deepness of Berwick’s talent, a Dylanesque ballad with sweeping grandeur and finely-crafted lyrics that, again, in the right hands, could earn the songwriter a truck full o’ cash and accolades. Berwick’s breaking-heart delivery could never be equaled, however, his weathered vocals balanced on the edge of tears, accompanied by female backing harmonies and a filigree acoustic guitar solo that is simply outstanding.

Ten songs in, you figure that Give It Time has run its course, and you’d be as wrong as you could be to overlook “When”. This epic stream-of-consciousness rant is Berwick’s “Eve of Destruction”, his “Jungleland”, his “Positively 4th Street” all rolled into one massive, monster, six-minute-plus song. “When” opens with a spacey, almost psychedelic guitar-driven intro before Berwick’s battered acoustic chimes in and the vocals jump off… “how long must we wait” Berwick screams towards the heavens. “As the road goes on and on, how will we know when we are there?” he asks, “time is a deceiver that’s got us in its grasp.” Hell, Berwick throws out enough ideas, concepts, and questions in this one tune to fuel six or eight other songs. Man’s longstanding philosophical conundrums are echoed in Berwick’s existential “how long must we wait?” In this case, though, the song only gets stronger, louder, and more strident as it rolls along, Berwick’s tone growing in urgency, his questions more potent, his anger and frustration more apparent as the instrumentation swells to a cacophonic assault. It’s like Berwick’s brain busted open and all the shit that’s been mugging him for years comes pouring out in one powerful, uncensored blast of white light/white heat. In the end, no answers are to be had, just a song that is rock ‘n’ roll at its core, and the nagging, enduring final question “how long must we wait?”       

A lot of pundits have spilled a lot of ink (and electrons) talking about the end of the music industry…well, Pete Berwick is dancing on the graves of all those Music Row naysayers, and with Give It Time he takes the D.I.Y. aesthetic to an entirely different level. There are few artists that will create an album this personal, this emotional, and this powerful in this year, or any other for that matter…the kids on the indie-rock tip just aren’t ready and willing to reveal themselves so openly, no matter what little lyrical clues they send their audience. Give It Time is the real deal, though, a postcard from the edge from a middle-aged country-rocker who has looked into the abyss and stomped all over his inner demons, doubts, and frustrations to emerge on the other side even stronger and more pissed off than before. Let’s hope that Berwick continues to make music as engaging, vulnerable, and potent as that on Give It Time, ‘cause dammit, the man is speaking for all of us who want, and deserve something better from our entertainment than Taylor Swift and Rascal Flatts. (Shotgun Records)

Review originally published by Blurt magazine, 2011

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Vintage Review: Tim Krekel's Happy Town (2002)

Singer/songwriter Tim Krekel left Louisville to ply his trade in Nashville for a while during the 1980s, hanging around with folks like Webb Wilder and Jason & the Scorchers and releasing a fine, criminally-ignored album with his band the Sluggers. That the album died on the vine was a shame, too. Even though Krekel wasn’t the most talented songwriter in town at the time – Steve Earle probably deserves that crown – he was nevertheless better than 99% of the hacks that haunt the doorsteps of Music Row studios trying to place songs with Garth or Shania. Krekel wrote a couple of country hits for folks like Patty Loveless, then disappeared for a while, returning to Kentucky. I haven’t thought of Tim Krekel much at all lately until a copy of Happy Town crossed my desk.

Judging from the eleven songs showcased on Happy Town, Krekel remains as bright a songwriter as he ever was. Musically, his material sits firmly in a roots rock vein, mixing the jangling guitar-rock of the Byrds or Tom Petty with traditional country influences, throwing in a healthy dose of Southern rock, kind of like Wet Willie, for good measure. At times, Krekel gets all funky and shows his blue-eyed soul, as on “Sugar From My Baby”. In other instances, as with the title track “Happy Town”, Krekel rocks with a fire in his eyes, adding just enough twang to the song that he sounds like he’s still trying to burn old Nashville down.

Not the most distinctive vocalist in the world, Krekel still gets the job done, and, possessing a keen eye for arrangements, his performances never fail to entertain the listener. If you’re looking for music guaranteed to cure your blues, something that’s a little bit country and a little bit rock ‘n’ roll, without lapsing into the cliches of either, it would be worth your time to find a copy of Tim Krekel’s Happy Town. (FreeFalls Entertainment, released 2002)

Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™

Nashville's Legendary Exit/In R.I.P.

Vintage Review: Governent Cheese's Government Cheese 1985-1995 (2010)

Chances are, unless you happened to be attending college in the Southeast U.S. or lived in the region during the late 1980s, you’ve never heard of Government Cheese. Inspired by influences like the Replacements, Husker Du, R.E.M. and especially Nashville’s Jason & the Scorchers, Government Cheese was formed in Bowling Green, Kentucky by WKU students Tommy Womack and Skot Willis (guitars and vocals). The two added a strong, stealthy rhythm section in bassist Billy Mack Hill and drummer Joe King, and promptly set out to conquer the world with their own unique brand of rock ‘n’ roll, a curious mix of 1960s-era garage, vintage 1970s classic rock, and contemporary ‘80s college rock delivered without guile and with a fair amount of tongue-in-cheek humor.

The band spent the better part of a decade banging the gong, playing every smoky dive and college frat house that called on them, earning a reputation across Dixie as a rowdy and entertaining live band. While the Government Cheese story has been accounted at length in Womack’s wonderful book The Cheese Chronicles, to date the band’s musical history is largely unknown. During their day, Government Cheese released a handful of vinyl EPs and albums for Nashville-based indie label Reptile Records, while a long out-of-print CD that included much of their best material has become a sought-after collectors’ item. Supported by a handful of true believers, Womack managed to raise the cash to put together the comprehensive anthology Government Cheese 1985-1995, a two-disc compilation that chisels into concrete the band’s underrated and overlooked musical legacy.        

Government Cheese 1985-1995

Government Cheese were college radio staples throughout much of the Southeast during the late 1980s, and a video for the delightful power-pop ballad “Face To Face” earned frequent MTV airplay at the time. While Womack was the band’s primary wordsmith, Willis and Hill contributed significantly to the band’s repertoire, and the songs seemingly just poured out…for instance, longtime audience fave “Camping On Acid” sounds like Camper Van Beethoven on speed and steroids, Womack’s surrealistic lyrics matched by a jumble of jangling guitars, explosive rhythms, and overall musical chaos. The hard-rocking “Fish Stick Day” was another crowd-pleaser, this live version offering up a chanted absurdist chorus, droning guitar-feedback, and King’s powerful, tribal drumbeats.

Another Cheese fan favorite was “C’mon Back to Bowling Green,” a rollicking slice of lovesick blue-collar blues with a honky-tonk heart and electrified twang, sort of Duane Eddy meets Jerry Lee Lewis in a back-alley dive. “Single” just flat-out rocks, with plenty of ringing guitar tone, clashing instruments, lofty power-pop styled vocals, and a driving rhythm. The syncopated rhythms and folkish guitar strum behind the vocals on “No Sleeping In Penn Station” are a fine accompaniment to the song’s real-life lyrical inspiration while the metallic “Jailbait” proves that the Cheese could knock heads with any of the decade’s nerf-metal cretins, raging guitars and a blistering wall-of-sound barely concealing the song’s whip-smart pop-rock lyrics and gorgeous underlying melody.        

The band was never afraid to take a stand on issues, either, which sometimes resulted in an unexpected response. The emotionally-powerful “For the Battered,” and its dark-hued instrumental intro “Before The Battered,” tackled the then hush-hush subject of domestic abuse with brutal simplicity and a menacing soundtrack of crashing instruments and noisy Sturm und Drang. Surprisingly, the disturbing revenge fantasy connected with the listeners of Nashville radio station WKDF’s local music show, becoming its most-requested song. “The Shrubbery’s Dead (Where Danny Used To Fall)” is a brilliant story of the toll of alcoholism on an individual and family, Hill’s lyrics bolstered by a roughneck instrumental background. The class warfare of the spoken-word ode “The Yuppie Is Dead” leads into the deeply introspective “Nothing Feels Good,” a hard rock 1970s throwback (I’m thinking Starz) that speaks of the dissatisfaction of too many years on the road. 

The KKK Took My Baby Away

For us original “cheeseheads,” the album includes a wealth of previously-unreleased material, starting with the band’s raucous, off-tilt cover of Jim Carroll’s “People Who Died.” Delivered with punkish intensity and chaotic energy, Government Cheese manages to capture the spirit of the original while adding a menacing edge…or, as Womack says in the liner notes, “we took Jim Carroll’s song and did it like the Scorchers.” The band’s semi-biographical “Kentucky Home” has never made it onto disc until now, a Replacements-styled triumph that speaks of growing up with rock ‘n’ roll dreams in Podunk, U.S.A. “I Can Make You Love Me” lopes into your consciousness with a hearty bassline and wiry guitar leading into a sort of alt-rock dirge with sparse harmony vocals and an undeniable rhythm.

Government Cheese was always known for its spirited covers, which ranged from classic rock (an unreleased and raucous take of Grand Funk’s “We’re An American Band” is cranked out at twice the speed of the original in a white light haze) to critical faves (the Stooges’ “Search & Destroy” totally demolishes the thousand and one versions done by mundane punkers, the band’s reckless, ramshackle performance capturing the white heat fervor of Iggy’s worst nightmares). A live cover of the Dictators “Stay With Me” retains the heartfelt innocence intended by writer Andy Shernoff while adding the Cheese’s own bit of emotional longing to the mix, and a live romp through the Ramones’ “The KKK Took My Baby Away” keeps about 90% of the original’s breakneck pace and energy while retaining Joey’s sweetness and light.

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

There’s plenty more to like on Government Cheese 1985-1995, forty-three songs altogether from the best band that you never heard. If Government Cheese had hailed from Athens, Georgia like their friends R.E.M. or maybe even from Austin, Texas they might today be a household name. Instead, they remain a fond memory for a few thousand loyal fans scattered across the Southeast. The very definition of “cult band” and D.I.Y. poster children for the indie-rock aesthetic, Government Cheese flirted with the big time but never got the break they deserved…none of which makes this music any less entertaining, the songs any less brilliant, or the performances any less rocking. Although Tommy Womack has since forged an acclaimed, if modest career as an indie-rock troubadour, the music he made with Government Cheese has withstood the test of time and is ready to receive the long overdue respect it demands. (Cedar Creek Music, released 2010)

Review originally published by Blurt magazine, 2010

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Poster Time: Rumble Circus & Wishcraft (1988)

Poster artwork courtesy of Mark "Smiley" Shenkel