Vintage Review: Jason & the Scorchers’ Clear Impetuous Morning (1996)

Seldom has a band received so much acclaim and developed such a loyal following as Jason & the Scorchers, yet never get any respect. Jason, Warner, Jeff and Perry have got to be the Rodney Dangerfields of the rock ‘n’ roll world. After a hiatus of several years, the original Scorchers’ line-up got back together a few years ago to record a solid collection of rock ‘n’ roll tunes called A Blazing Grace. It went nowhere outside of their hardcore circle of fans.

Now they’ve delivered what is arguably the finest album of their lengthy career in Clear Impetuous Morning and the signs are there for all to see that the effort is playing mostly to the choir, falling on those deaf ears who’d rather set down fifteen bucks for another Nirvana or Pearl Jam clone than actually grab something that would really get their adrenaline flowing. Even those nouveau country rockers over in  the alt.country scene, while recognizing the Scorchers’ place in their holy pantheon, don’t seem to be falling over themselves to pick up a new Scorchers disc or two...

Jason & the Scorchers’ Clear Impetuous Morning

Clear Impetuous Morning finds the Scorchers mining the same country-flavored, roots-rock vein that they pioneered almost fifteen years ago. In this aspect, the band has never sounded better. Warner Hodges is an exemplary guitarist, a legend-in-waiting on the level of Keith Richards who plays with great skill and flash. Hodges tears off chainsaw riffs like some kid playing air guitar in his bedroom, breathing life into each song. Jason’s energetic vocal delivery is part Hank Williams, part Johnny Rotten, crooning sweet country twang on cuts like “I’m Sticking With You,” kicking out the jams with reckless, joyful abandon on rockers like “Victory Road.” The rhythm section of bassist Jeff Johnson and drummer Perry Baggs provide a steady beat and a strong backbone for the Scorchers performances, playing conservative foils to Jason and Warner’s rock ‘n’ roll crazed wild men.

Lyrically, Clear Impetuous Morning distinguishes itself through its maturity and wisdom. This foursome clearly aren’t the idealistic youngsters that they were in 1982, and every scar that they’ve received through the years can be found in these songs. Jason Ringenberg, always the Scorchers main songwriter, collaborates here with some new partners. Most notable of these is Nashvillian Tommy Womack, formerly of Mid-South legends Government Cheese. Together they put together some of the album’s hottest songs, like the new Scorchers’ show-stopper, “Self-Sabotage” or “Cappuccino Rosie.” A duet between Jason and Emmylou Harris on “Everything Has A Cost” proves to be a natural pairing, the two creating a haunting musical moment that is underlined by some strong six-string work from Hodges.

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

Sadly, the Scorchers seem doomed to be one of those bands who never receive a break, who never find themselves in the “right place at the right time.” If the masses refuse to pick up on an album as solid as Clear Impetuous Morning, what’s left for the band to try? As one of a handful who can truthfully say that I’ve been a fan of the band since the beginning, I marvel at the Scorchers ability to keep going in the face of adversity. They’ve suffered breaking up, getting back together again, three record labels, industry indifference, constant touring and mediocre sales for over a decade and a half. Yet they keep on rocking, cranking out some of the greatest music in the history of the genre, delivering night after night with great live performances. Like Rodney, they get nowhere near the respect they rightfully deserve. (Mammoth Records, released 1996)

Review originally published by R Squared zine

Vintage Review: Webb Wilder’s About Time (2005)

It’s been nearly nine years since Webb Wilder last came ‘round these parts with a new phonograph recording and we’ve all been that much poorer for his absence. Heck, during the great one’s hiatus we’ve suffered through nu-metal, modern rock, Britney Spears, boy bands, and Geo. Bush – a veritable cultural famine of Biblical proportions. You don’t have to tie up that noose and throw it over the rafters just yet, bunkie, ‘cause our year is about to get a whole lot “wilder” and this scribe can only exclaim that it’s “about time!”
 

Webb Wilder’s About Time

Rounding up his “A” Team of veteran players, studio monsters like guitarist George Bradfute, bassist Tom Comet, and drummer Jimmy Lester, Webb Wilder has again hooked up with his long-time partner in crime, the “Ionizer,” R.S. Field to record About Time. As comeback albums go, it’s really like ol’ Webb never left; you can’t really call these grooves a “return to form” because Wilder has never abandoned his pure, untarnished vision of rock ‘n’ roll with a touch of country and blues. Sure, Wilder spices up the brew now and then with some fine brasswork courtesy of Dennis Taylor and Steve Herrman, the band sounding like some R&B revue of old. Overall, old time fans of the “last full-grown man” won’t be disappointed by the track selection found on About Time.

For those of you unfamiliar with Webb Wilder, or those who only know him through his XM satellite radio program, About Time will hit you like that first kiss in the backseat of your daddy’s jalopy. The songs on About Time stand as tall as the singer, a fine combination of roots-rock and Southern fried influences. “Scattergun,” for instance, is a somber, Marty Robbins-styled old west tale of tragedy while “Battle of the Bands” is a ‘50s-flavored rockabilly rave-up with rollicking horns and swinging rhythms. “I Just Had To Laugh” is a typical, old-school Field/Wilder lyrical collaboration about the trials of romance, offering plenty of clever wordplay, Wilder’s magnificent baritone and some mesmerizing fretwork from Bradfute.

“Miss Missy From Ol’ Hong Kong” is a roadhouse rocker with Steve Conn channeling the spirit of a young Jerry Lee on the ivories. As Wilder speaks of Missy’s many attributes, the rest of the band teeters on the edge, blowing the roof off the mutha with instrumental interplay as tight as a fist and honed to a surgical-edge by 1,001 nights spent performing on the road. Wilder reworks Tommy Overstreet’s early ‘70s country classic “If You’re Looking For A Fool” with a heartbreaking, bittersweet tone that is punctuated by Bradfute’s sadly weeping guitar. Kevin Gordon’s excellent “Jimmy Reed Is the King of Rock and Roll” is provided a bluesy, ethereal reading that brings to mind John Campbell’s voodoo king, knee deep in the swamp, howling at the moon while Hank’s ghost-driven Cadillac careens around a corner, down Broadway and away from the Ryman.

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

There’s more, but you’re just going to have to pick up a copy of About Time for yourself and discover the mystery, the madness and the magic of the man called Wilder. Giants standing proudly above lesser talents, Webb Wilder and the Nashvegans deliver in About Time a tonic for our troubled days and times. Welcome back, boys! (Landslide Records, released 2005)

Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™

Vintage Review: Th’ Legendary Shack*Shakers’ Believe (2004)

In the early ‘80s, Jason & the Nashville Scorchers shook up the staid country music establishment with a hard-rocking blend of adrenaline-fueled punk energy and reckless country soul. Two decades later, Th’ Legendary Shack*Shakers have arrived to finish the musical revolution begun by Jason and his crew, tilting the city on its collective ear. Nothing could have prepared the “Music City” for the band’s self-released 2002 debut – Cockadoodledon’t – reissued a year later by Bloodshot Records. A manic collection of rockabilly, blues, and country twang delivered with the intensity of a mad dervish, Th’ Legendary Shack*Shakers announced that it was a force to be reckoned with.

Believe proves that while they may not yet be legendary, the band sure knows how to shake the shack. Toss this slab o’ metal into your CD player and be ready for an old school tent revival to explode from your speakers. Shack*Shakers frontman Col. J.D. Wilkes is ready to preach the gospel of rock and roll to your lonesome ears; the rest of the boys ready to save your soul with their roots-rock hymnal. Believe opens with a train whistle, the choogling beat of “Agony Wagon” warping into an Arabic guitar line beneath a tale of a tortured soul doomed to forever ride the mythical “hellbound train.” Guitarist Joe Buck adds a twangy, Dick Dale-influenced guitar riff beneath Wilkes’ vocals, the lyrics delivered with all the fervor of a Southern preacher standing in the center of a Middle Eastern bazaar.

The album rolls along like a runaway hot rod fueled by whiskey and riding along a tightrope made of discarded guitar strings. “Piss and Vinegar” is a juke-joint rave-up; Wilkes’ echoed vocals punching through a fog of bluesy guitars and staggered drumbeats. Driven by a Carl Perkins-styled rhythms and hazy, psychedelic fretwork, “County of Graves” is another tragic tale, part prayer and part sermon with a drunken soundtrack. “Cussin’ In Tongues” is a mutant truck-driving song, a cross between Dave Dudley and the Butthole Surfers, Pauly Simmonz’ massive percussion work, and Buck’s stylish six-string riffing pushing the rig towards a crashing finish. If your spiritual quest is in need of some cheap thrills, let the Colonel and his boys guide you towards the path of righteousness with Believe. (Yep Roc Records, released 2004)

Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™ zine

Somewhere In The Night: Billy Chinnock Remembered (2007)

While thumbing through the current issue of Rolling Stone, a small but disturbing story caught my eye. Alongside the tragic tale of Boston vocalist Brad Delp’s suicide was a (much) shorter piece about the death of Billy Chinnock. A rock ‘n’ roll lifer whose career spanned Asbury Park, New Jersey; Nashville, Tennessee; and Portland, Maine, Chinnock sadly took his own life on March 7th, 2007 after a long bout with Lyme Disease.

Chinnock launched his career on the Asbury Park boardwalk during the late ‘60s. Chinnock’s Downtown Tangiers Rockin Rhythm & Blues Band included musicians like future E Street Band members Gary Tallent and Danny Federici, Vini “Mad Dog” Lopez, and David Sancious. Although Chinnock was plagued throughout his career with unfair Springsteen comparisons (much like Pittsburgh’s Joe Grushecky), the fact is that both artists were products of the same era and place, subjected to many of the same cultural and geographic influences and listening to a lot of the same music. Whereas Springsteen leaned more towards early garage-rock and the one-hit-wonders of ‘60s AM radio, Chinnock’s music was influenced more by roots-rock and blues.

When A&R legend John Hammond recommended that Chinnock work on his songwriting, the artist broke away from his heavy touring on the Jersey shore rock scene and moved to Maine in 1974, where he honed his craft while continuing to perform and record. Chinnock later migrated to Nashville during the early ‘80s at the prompting of musician and producer Harold Bradley. Bradley had received a cassette of his material and got in touch with Chinnock, and the two subsequently became friends. Chinnock was interested in the renewal of country influence on rock music and was impressed by the energy of the Nashville music scene, so he decided to come down and check it out for himself.

Chinnock integrated himself in the local music scene by jumping in headfirst, playing frequently at local clubs and WKDF-sponsored riverboat shows, as well as outdoor shows at Hermitage Landing. I had the pleasure of meeting and interviewing Billy for The Metro magazine in 1985, and witnessed firsthand his dynamic performance at that year’s “Rock For The Animals” show, which included Afrikan Dreamland, Walk The West, The Paper Dolls, Raging Fire, Hard Knox, Roxx and Bill Lloyd and the December Boys – a veritable “who’s who” of the mid-‘80s Nashville rock underground.

While living in Nashville, Chinnock recorded two landmark albums with producer Bradley – 1985’s independently released Rock & Roll Cowboy, and the 1987 CBS Records release Learning To Survive In the Modern Age, which yielded a minor hit single in the song “Somewhere In the Night.” Chinnock later won an Emmy for “Somewhere In the Night,” which had been used in a daytime soap opera. Chinnock later recorded a chart-topping duet with Roberta Flack which was used as the theme for The Guiding Light television show.

Like many non-country musicians in the “Music City,” Chinnock found a great deal of frustration in Nashville and the local scene. Already a veteran of 20 years of performing and recording, he was more polished and experienced than any of the rockers playing Nashville’s club scene. Although he had a loyal following – mostly blue-collar WKDF listeners – he was dismissed as too slick and mainstream by the local underground. Truth is, Chinnock’s roots-rock style was easily a decade (or two) ahead of its time, and was edgier and had less “commercial potential” at that time than most of Nashville’s more acclaimed “alternative” rock bands.

While I was managing a Nashville pizza delivery restaurant in the late ‘80s, I noticed an order going out to Chinnock’s Belmont Avenue area home. I hadn’t seen Billy in a couple of years and since I was getting off work, I paid for the pizza and drove over to make the delivery and say “hello.” Chinnock seemed happy to see me and we ended up talking for a couple of hours, off the cuff and mostly “off the record.” He expressed a lot of anger over the way that CBS had been messing with his career…Billy had a new album in the can and was ready to have it released and launch a supporting tour. Considering that Chinnock had just won an Emmy and had the highest profile of his career, I can see why he wanted the album released. However, CBS didn’t think the album “marketable” and, after a prolonged battle, dropped Chinnock from his contract.

The CBS debacle, inexcusable as it was, was not the first time that Chinnock’s work had been obstructed by small-minded label executives. Signed by Paramount Records, the label released his debut album Blues in 1974, but shelved his sophomore effort, Road Master, which was produced by Tom Dowd at the legendary Bell Sound Studios in Los Angeles. To the best of my knowledge, the album has never been released. In the wake of fellow Asbury Park rocker Bruce Springsteen’s success, Atlantic Records signed Chinnock to be their Springsteen and released his album Badlands in 1978. When Badlands went nowhere, the label decided to call it a day (after already recording most of a second album); Chinnock evidently got the rights to his masters back and released the 1980 album himself as Dime Store Heroes.

After spending the better part of the decade fighting the system, by 1990 Chinnock had left Nashville in his rearview mirror as he headed back to Maine, where he enjoyed almost 20 years of creativity and performing. 1990’s Thunder In the Valley, released under the name “Billy & the American Suns,” was Chinnock’s last major label album. He continued to record until the end of his life, releasing material on his own indie label, East Coast Records. Chinnock also dabbled in graphic arts and made a name for himself as a filmmaker and video producer, creating the award-winning film The Forgotten Maine.

Chinnock had suffered from Lyme Disease for eight years, the result of a nasty tick bite. The disease defied treatment, ravaging his immune system and leaving him in a great deal of pain. His mother, who lived with Chinnock and with whom he was very close, died ten days before Chinnock. Consumed with grief and suffering from chronic daily pain, Chinnock evidently saw no other way out than suicide. He was 59 years old, still young by today’s rock ‘n’ roll standards.

Chinnock’s sister, Caroline Payne, remembers that her brother was never envious of the success enjoyed by the artist many critics unfairly compared his work to. “I never saw him have any of that,” she told the Portland Press Herald. “I never saw any frustration in him, any jealousy like that. He thought Bruce Springsteen was phenomenal.” Although his vocals could often times sound like Springsteen’s, Chinnock’s music was always original, heartfelt, and genuine, and over the course of a mostly unheralded career that ran almost four decades, Chinnock released 13 albums and entertained a hell of a lot of people.

As usual, John Hammond was right on target when he called Billy Chinnock “the real essence of American music.”

Vintage Review: Steve Earle’s Jerusalem (2002)

A month or so before the release of Jerusalem, Steve Earle’s 10th album, some shrill jackass of an alleged journalist took the artist to task over his song “John Walker’s Blues.” Seems that Earle’s use of the creative process in an attempt to figure out exactly how the “American Taliban” had gotten into the predicament that he found himself in was tantamount to treason in the eyes of the New York Post. The unrepentant reporter dialed up Nashville radio talk show hosts Steve “Love It Or Leave It” Gill and Phil “Corporate Shill” Valentine for their two cents worth, quoting the two right-wing gasbag’s observations on Earle’s song, his career, and his unpatriotic insolence.

Valentine carried his crusade against Earle onto the airwaves with his daily radio gabfest, ignorantly misunderstanding both the song’s intent and Earle’s (successful) career path. Only Grant Alden, editor of the alt-country journal No Depression, stood as the voice of reason, calmly and intelligently explaining the song’s purpose and relevance in both the original New York Post article and on local Nashville television. “John Walker’s Blues” is not, in my mind, one of Earle’s best songs, but it is one of his most heartfelt. Earle obviously looked at his own teenage son and wondered what it is about American culture that would drive an otherwise “normal” kid like John Walker Lindh to embrace radical Islamic thought.

Steve Earle’s Jerusalem

The song is part of the theme that runs throughout Jerusalem, the idea that America is broken in more ways than we care to count and that it is up to us to demand change. Jerusalem is Earle’s most political collection yet, a poetic overview of American society on the brink of disaster. Unlike Bruce Springsteen’s over-hyped and much lauded The Rising album, which also looks at a post-September 11th country, Earle doesn’t focus on feel-good stories of heroism or memories of bitter losses on that fateful day. Rather, Jerusalem offers the cold slap of reason, a stark reminder of what we’ve got to lose as a country. The songs here paint a bleak picture and ask some hard questions.

Jerusalem opens with the rocking “Ashes To Ashes,” a Biblically apocalyptic story of life and death, rebirth and retribution that reminds us that nothing lasts forever. The growing economic and cultural chasm between the rich and the rest of us is handled with great insight on “Amerika v. 6.0 (The Best We Can Do).” “Conspiracy Theory” touches upon the Kennedy and King assassinations and the Viet Nam war, comparing the turbulent ‘60s to the current storm clouds on the horizon while “The Truth” boils down the complex issue of crime and punishment to a single prisoner’s haunting perspective. The Mexican dance hall vibe of “What’s A Simple Man To Do” belies the sad nature of the tale, that of a Maquiladora factory worker forced by desperation to smuggle drugs across the border with tragic results. The gentle memories of “I Remember You” are bolstered by the presence of the angelic Emmylou Harris; her trembling vocals perfectly matched with Earle’s gruff baritone. “Shadowland” rocks like Guitar Town-era Earle while the title track closes Jerusalem, the song serving as a beacon of hope and renewal, offering up the promise of peace in a troubled world.

Not since “Little Steven” Van Zandt challenged the status quo with a pair of excellent mid-80s albums that questioned the “Reagan revolution” has a major American musician delivered such scorching political and social commentary on record. Unlike Rage Against The Machine, Corporate Avenger, or dozens of like-minded and politically oriented artists (mostly coming from a punk background), Earle doesn’t trade in over-amped hyperbole, tired rhetoric and mindless sloganeering on Jerusalem. Earle’s lyrics are complex in their simplicity, hewing closer to Woody Guthrie or Bruce Springsteen in their ability to put a human face on tragedy, alienation and frustration.

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

Jerusalem has been praised by some critics and whitewashed by many more who are unwilling to embrace it as a major work, the first great protest album of the new century. Earle sums it up best in his own liner notes to Jerusalem, written on the 4th of July, when he states that “we are a people perpetually balanced on a tightrope stretched between our history and our potential.” Luckily, we have artists such as Steve Earle to keep us focused on the prize. (E Squared/Artemis Records, released September 24th, 2002)

Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™

Tape Trading: Bare Jr. at 3rd & Lindsey, Nashville TN 1999

ARTIST: Bare Jr.

VENUE: 3rd & Lindsey, Nashville TN; February 28, 1999

SOURCE: 50-minute FM broadcast, performance (9), quality (9)

TRACKLIST: Intro/ Boo-Tay/ Nothin’ Better To Do/ Give Nothing Away/ Patty McBride/ I Hate Myself/ Tobacco Spit/ Naked Albino/ Love-Less/ Soggy Daisy/ You Blew Me Off/ Faker

COMMENTS: Having more in common with 1980s-era rabble-rousers like the Replacements or Jason & the Scorchers than with the vast majority of laid-back, cornpone-eating, Hank-quoting singer/songwriters in “No Depression” garb, Bare Jr. tend to lean more heavily towards the “rock” side of the country-rock equation. Fronted by, well, Bobby Bare Jr, son of the country legend, Bare Jr. the band kick out a high-voltage mix of punk-flavored rock and roots country that plays along the fringe of the current alt-country craze.

This show was a homecoming of sorts, a triumphant return to the Music City after the band had received rave reviews in the mainstream music press for their debut LP, wired live performances and spirited television appearances. Broadcast live on Nashville’s “Radio Lightning,” WRLT-FM from a packed local club, Bare Jr. pulled out all the stops to entertain their home audience. The show’s setlist here is skewed heavily towards material from Boo-Tay, their major label debut, playing most of the album, adding plenty of running commentary from the band in between songs. Although there’s not a bad song here, a few particularly strong performances do stand out.

Among them, there’s a rocking “I Hate Myself,” dedicated by Bare to “every woman I ever dated.” The song starts out mild, focusing on Bare’s introspective lyrics, before spiraling out of control into a black hole of anguished vocals and unrequited love. The senior Bare joins the band for a raucous rendition of “Love-Less” while “You Blew Me Off,” the band’s semi-hit single from the Varsity Blues movie soundtrack, drives the audience wild with its madly discordant guitar riff and Bare’s over-the-top vocals. Ronnie McCoury, fresh from recording an album with Steve Earle and his father’s respected Del McCoury Band, joins the Bare Jr. boys for a show-closing, bluegrass-styled “Hee Haw” version of the band’s “Faker.”

Bare Jr.’s musicianship is top-notch, the band energetically mixing twin guitars, mandolin and the traditional bass guitar/drums rhythm section into a powerful, original sound. What really makes Bare Jr. stand out, however, is Bare’s off-kilter vocals which are often strained to the point of painfulness, and the unbridled recklessness that the band brings to each performance. They adhere to the cowpunk credo: twang it loud! These guys obviously enjoy what they’re doing and we enjoy hearing it.

Review originally published as a “Roll The Tape” column in Live! Music Review, 1999