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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

Vintage Review: Various Artists - Night Train To Nashville (2004)

Ask most people what they think of when you mention Nashville, Tennessee and they’ll inevitably respond with ‘country music’. The “Music City” has been so closely identified with the country music industry for so long that most people don’t know that the city hosts a thriving rock music scene and is the longtime home of the gospel music industry. Long before Johnny Cash, Loretta Lynn, and George Jones helped put Nashville on the entertainment map, the ‘Athens of the South’ was famous for red-hot rhythm & blues.

Nashville’s post-war R&B boom lasted for a quarter-century, a time when almost a dozen clubs featured regional and national performers nightly, attracting wealth and celebrity to north Nashville. This period is lovingly documented by Night Train To Nashville, Music City Rhythm & Blues 1945-1970, a two-CD set featuring 35 songs representing the history of Nashville’s R&B era. Compiled by producers Michael Gray and Daniel Cooper to accompany a Country Music Hall of Fame exhibit, the set includes an excellent introduction by noted music writer and Tennessee native Ron Wynn and song-by-song liner notes by Gray that are accompanied by a wealth of rare photos.

Nashville was once home to independent labels like Bullet and Excello and a literal “who’s who” of R&B talent once came to Nashville to record. Night Train To Nashville features R&B hitmakers like Etta James, Ruth Brown, Arthur Alexander, and Roscoe Shelton. It’s the obscure artists that brighten up the grooves, though, long-forgotten performers like Little Hank Crawford, Rudy Green, and Sam Baker enjoying another turn in the spotlight. Highlights include Gene Allison’s smooth “You Can Make It If You Try”, Sonny Hebb’s pop crossover hit “Sunny”, Frank Howard’s “Just Like Him”, and the Sam Phillips-produced “Just Walkin’ In The Rain” by the Prisonaires, a song favored by Elvis.

Thanks to the Country Music Hall of Fame, fans of classic R&B can rediscover the soulful sound of this overlooked chapter in Nashville’s music history with Night Train To Nashville. (Lost Highway Records, released February 24th, 2004)

Review originally published by the Community Free Press, Springfield MO

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Vintage Review: The Black Keys’ El Camino (2012)

The Black Keys found unexpected success with their 2010 breakthrough album Brothers, which earned the duo of Dan Auerbach and Patrick Carney three Grammy® Awards. While Brothers’ mix of psychedelic-tinged blues, rock, and soul music struck a chord with listeners, the album’s hit single, the groove-fattened “Tighten Up”, became ubiquitous, blasting from TV sets and radios across the fruited plains.

The Black Keys have delivered a fast follow-up to Brothers in the form of El Camino, a solid collection that draws upon its predecessor’s timeless mix of styles with a pure-at-heart blast of retro-soul and rock ‘n’ roll. Unlike the band’s previous collaboration with producer Danger Mouse, 2008’s Attack & Release, which experimented in lofty sonic atmospherics, there are no loose musical threads here. Instead, El Camino hits fast-and-hard with inspiration that spans the decades, the Black Keys turbo-charging their trademark garage-blues sound with elements of soul, electric funk, and punch-drunk throwback rock ‘n’ roll.

El Camino cranks from the jump with lead single “Lonely Boy,” which sports a riff-happy melodic hook every bit as large and in charge as that on “Tighten Up.” Auerbach’s slightly-echoed vocals are overwhelmed by the song’s dangerously infectious sing-along chorus and Carney’s propulsive drumbeats. Infusing a bedrock of rock ‘n’ soul with a maddeningly effective recurring riff and plenty of engaging “whoa whoa whoa,” the song will stick in your brain long after you’ve heard it, like some funky brain chigger.

You’ll find no creative drop-off from the radio-friendly peaks of “Lonely Boy,” El Camino rolling through its eleven songs in a shockingly efficient 38-minutes, leaving the listener gasping for breath and wanting another taste. The martial rhythms of “Dead and Gone” belie the song’s melodic R&B heartbeat, while “Little Black Submarines” is a Zeppelin-styled folk-rock ballad with melancholy vocals and elegant, atmospheric fretwork. “Money Maker” is a raucous blues-rock stomp with muscular rhythms while “Nova Baby” revisits the retro-soul vibe of the opening track with a gorgeously melody and sticky chorus.

The Black Keys have come a long way from their three-chord garage-blues origins as an ersatz ‘Rust Belt’ White Stripes doppelganger, finding their own voice in a high-octane blend of styles that is as classic as it is contemporary. (Nonesuch Records, released October 12, 2011)

Review originally published by Blues Revue magazine, 2012

Buy the CD from Amazon: The Black Keys’ El Camino

Vintage Review: Jason & the Scorchers’ Still Standing (2002)

I’ve been a rabid Jason & the Scorchers fan for a full two decades now, the band celebrating their twentieth anniversary this year. As such, it is only fitting that Capitol/EMI saw fit to reissue the band’s excellent 1986 sophomore album, Still Standing on CD for the first time. While listening to this album for the thousandth time, however, I came to a conclusion, maybe even a mini-epiphany. Like a lot of rock ‘n’ roll visionaries, listeners understood where the Scorchers were coming from or they didn’t; you got ‘em or you ignored them.

The Scorchers’ unique blend of country twang, roots-rock, and punk fury didn’t play well on MTV in the mid-‘80s and it didn’t sell many records, but it sure garnered a fair bit of critical acclaim. When the going got tough, though – as it often did during the Reagan ‘80s – there was nobody better at getting on stage and blowing away thoughts of your overdue car payment or impending rent than Jason & the Nashville Scorchers. Any night, in any venue, the Scorchers gave such cult-fave heavyweights as the Replacements a run for their money as the best damn rock ‘n’ roll band in the land.
 

Jason & the Scorchers’ Still Standing

Although they were, perhaps, the most dynamic and consistent live band playing the rock ‘n’ roll circuit during the mid-to-late 1980s, the Scorchers’ label wasn’t pleased with the exposure and acclaim afforded the band’s debut, Lost & Found. Rather than wait for the band’s live performances to create word-of-mouth excitement (and sell records), the label recruited hard rock producer Tom Werman (Motley Crue) to helm the all-important second album. The resulting production and the accompanying image “make-over” provided the band with a glossy sound and glam appearance that dismayed long-time fans. Even Werman’s slick, metal-tinged production couldn’t hide the Scorchers’ cowtown roots, however. If Still Standing polished a few of the band’s rough edges, it by turns emphasized Jason’s manic vocals, Warner Hodges’ raging fretwork, and the big beat rhythms of bassist Jeff Johnson and drummer Perry Baggs.

After all these years, Still Standing sounds like a revelation. Jason’s songwriting skills had matured nicely between the early Fervor EP and this second full-length LP, his masterful wordplay weaving wonderful story songs fraught with emotion and power. Rough-and-ready rockers like “Golden Ball & Chain”, “Shotgun Blues”, and a wild Scorchers reading of the Stones’ “19th Nervous Breakdown” emphasize the band’s punk mindset, Hodges whirling like a dervish, his axework underlining Jason’s growing confidence in his vocal abilities. What made the band’s approach work as well as it did is that the members never thought of themselves as punk rockers, not in the classic British sense of the word, at least. They were country punks, possessing all of the piss and vinegar of their big city counterparts; Jason, Warner, Jeff and Perry making their bones playing to hostile crowds in crappy honky-tonks and dangerous roadhouses.

Country Roots & Punk Attitude

To this punk attitude, the Scorchers added a country traditionalism that was as firmly rooted in Hank Williams, Johnny Cash, and George Jones as any alt-country band today can claim. Jason was the son of a midwestern farmer; the remaining Scorchers were brought up in the Nashville area, Hodges playing with his parent’s gospel band. When punk hit Nashville in the late 1970s, though, it hit hard, offering a stark alternative to the “countrypolitan” sound of “Music Row” in the 1960s and early ‘70s. The Ramones’ first appearance in the Music City, at the legendary Exit/Inn in 1979, would change the rules forever. Only a hundred or so people attended this mythical show, but all of them started bands, it would seem. Early ‘80s Nashville shows by folks like Black Flag, the Replacements, and X would spur further creativity and evolution of the growing local music scene.

The Scorchers absorbed these changing musical currents, mostly through the contributions of Johnson and Baggs, but would remain truer to their country roots than many of their west coast-based “cowpunk” counterparts. Still Standing manages to retain a fair share of the twang, especially on slower songs like “Good Things Come To Those Who Wait” and “Take Me To Your Promised Land”. These were not so much “power ballads,” like those delivered by hair metal bands, but rather country torch songs, tortured with emotion, Jason’s image-filled lyrics and potent vocal phrasing backed by a classic honky-tonk shuffle. On stage, these slower-paced songs would provide a counterpoint to the band's balls-out rockers, allowing the audience time to catch its breath. Tunes like “My Heart Still Stands With You” have aged well with time and sound as fresh today as fifteen years ago.

To the remastered reissue of Still Standing, the label has added three bonus songs. The gem “Greetings From Nashville”, penned by former Nashville resident Tim Krekel, is a longtime Scorchers favorite (and perhaps the only lyrical snapshot of the Southern underground of the 1980s). The previously unreleased “Route 66”, a live staple of the band, is provided a typical raucous treatment while “The Last Ride”, an unreleased instrumental, proves for once and for all that Warner Hodges was one of the greatest six-string madmen of the 1980s.

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

Still Standing should have broken the Scorchers through to the mainstream, with three or four potentially big singles deserving more than the nonexistent airplay they received. Johnson would subsequently leave the band to join Nashville Goth-rockers Guilt on their sojourn to L.A. and the Scorchers would slightly alter their sound again with their third album, Thunder & Fire.

The band broke-up at the end of the ‘80s and got back together in 1995 for another run at the brass ring. Core members Jason Ringenberg and Warner Hodges still perform as the Scorchers today and through all of the band’s trials and tribulations, they have retained an enormously loyal fan base throughout the past twenty years. If the Scorchers are, indeed, the ultimate cult band, Still Standing is quintessential Jason & the Scorchers. Get it and find out what all the fuss is about… (EMI America, reissued September 5th, 2002)

Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™, 2002 

Find the CD on Discogs: Jason & the Scorchers’ Still Standing