FEATURED REVIEW.........................................................18 JULY 2005
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Artist:
WILLIE NELSON |
Willie Nelson has always been something of an honorary uncle to the alt.country movement. We can dig the outlaw thing, his political tendencies, his herbal remedies, Farm Aid, his tax problems--hell, we even like the pony tail. Willie's new "reggae" album, however, is an abomination.
Whoever thought Countryman would be a good idea was evidently smoking some seriously mind-numbing sh*t. It's not that we have anything against a little green, mind you, but when an unlikely musical marriage is based on nothing but dope (see album cover), well, Christ almighty, what do you expect? We can almost hear the record execs: "Dude, Willie likes weed, and Rastafarians like weed--hot damn! Let's get Willie to do a reggae album!"
(Actually, in fairness to the stuffed suits, Countryman was a decade in the making due in part to their refusal to release such a monstrosity. Why they relented, we'll never know. Someone must have lost a bet.)
From the outset it's clear this one won't be in the carousel long. The opening track ("Something to Talk About") displays the unfortunate formula which governs the entire album: Willie + steel guitar + canned island beat = half-baked schlock. It's just plain silly. Memo to musicians everywhere: the "reggae" setting on your cheap keyboard is only to be used at wedding receptions and bar mitzvahs.
The only song on the album that comes remotely close to working is "The Harder They Come." It doesn't quite hang together, but it nearly does. Not coincidentally, it is also one of the least reggae-inflected tracks on the disc. (We don't have anything against reggae, per se, but Casio-driven wedding-singer schlock masquerading as such we can do without.)
In the way of cheeze, this album has it all: bad echo effects, unnecessary back-up singers, silly sound samples, even a recurring wind chime.
Willie, Willie, Willie. Do us all a favor and hire Rick Rubin to produce your next album. Better yet, get the Drive-by Truckers to sit in as your backing band. That'd be an "unlikely musical marriage" worth the listen.
In summation: Awful. The album's only merit is that it pissed off the bastards at Wal-mart. Our first five-cheezeball album of the year.
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A NOTE ON THE RATING SYSTEM:
5 CHEEZEBALLS = UNLISTENABLE SCHLOCK
3 CHEEZEBALLS = A DIFFICULT SLOG
1 CHEEZEBALL = THE ODD FORGIVABLE MISSTEP
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