| FEATURED REVIEW.........................................................04 JULY 2005 |
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Jay Farrar is pissed off. And, no, we're not talking about his usual brand of nostalgic indignation (i.e. "Golly shucks, if there were a straw boss around, I'd sure bust him in the chops"). On Okemah and the Melody of Riot, Farrar has found himself a bucketful of contemporary rancor, and what might be his best work in a decade is certainly the protest album of the summer. From President Bush ("Jet Pilot") to the occupation of Iraq ("Endless War"), Farrar has his sights squarely set on America's inexcusable administration. Despite trading dustbowl commentary for dissatisfaction with the current political debacle, however, Farrar has not entirely forsaken protest music's past. He references both Woody Guthrie and Bob Dylan on multiple occasions--from the album's title (Okemah is Guthrie's birthplace) to a 21st-century re-visitation of Highway 61 ("Afterglow 61"). Even the album's cover art is reminiscent of Woody's famously inscribed guitar. This new incarnation of Son Volt (which bears no resemblance to Jay Farrar's former band, also known as Son Volt) features Dave Bryson on drums, Andrew Duplantis on bass, and Brad Rice on guitar. The first Son Volt (drummer Mike Heidorn, bassist Jim Boquist, and guitarist Dave Boquist) recorded three highly acclaimed albums in the late 1990s. For whatever reason, an attempted reunion in the fall of 2004 fell apart, and, rather than just forming an entirely new band, Farrar formed an entirely new band and named it Son Volt, too. (Or should we say, "named it Son Volt, as well" so as not to confuse things?) Understandably, the move left fans and critics alike to scratch their heads and wonder. The seminal alt.country outfit Uncle Tupelo (which Jay Farrar also co-founded) disbanded in 1994 under less-than-clear circumstances. Farrar has long been rumored to have precipitated the split. When Son Volt (ver 1.0) imploded, well, the alt.country faithful were left with a certain familiar feeling. Still, break-ups are one thing. Giving your new band your old band's name--that is something else entirely. (It's like running John Stamos and three roadies onstage and calling them the Beach Boys--not that we have any particular affinity for any iteration of the Beach Boys, mind you.) Hark ye skeptics and disbelievers: Jay Farrar can call his new band whatever he damn well pleases. If he keeps pumping out albums as good as Okemah and the Melody of Riot, we're just going to nod and smile. In fact, we are so taken with this album, that we're going to review the whole darn thing, track by track. For each, a lyrical snippet and a comment: 1. "Bandages and Scars" "Piecemeal
solutions, When the full band kicks in, 10 seconds into the song, it is abundantly clear that Farrar and the boys are not here to do any front porch pickin'. At the risk of sounding like an adolescent with an air guitar fetish, this band rocks. Throaty, snarling, mean-spirited guitars--this one will give the "repeat" button on your CD player a workout. 2. "Afterglow 61" "Immigrant
son left a mining town, Instead of Abraham, Georgia Sam and Louie the King, Farrar populates his highway with Mark Twain, Huddie Ledbetter, and Bob Dylan. Slightly less surreal, but just as entertaining. 3.
"Jet Pilot" Apparently Farrar has claimed that this song is "allegorical." When you begin a song with the lines "Jet pilot for the day / Washed his sins away / Loves to see the Rangers play," however, it is pretty damn clear that the song has a literal target. The warbling guitar effect is slightly reminiscent of The Who's "Baba O'Riley." At first the vague similarity seemed purely coincidental, but Farrar's Bush ("Junior liked to live with his hair down / Only trouble is word got around") would be right at home in Townsend's teenage wasteland. Maybe we're on to something... 4. "Atmosphere" "Getting
that old time feeling again, Farrar converts Dylan's "simple twist of fate" into "a single twist of hate," and writes an incredibly catchy chorus to an extremely dark song: "It's all over now / You're headed for the atmosphere / Headed for the atmosphere." 5. "Ipecac" "Watch out for love like ipecac." We couldn't have said it better ourselves, and thus, we amended our manifesto. 6. "Who" "I
level with Goliath's shoes, Not the strongest track, perhaps, but on this album even the weaker tracks hold their own. 7. "Endless War" "Still
tryin' to understand, An ominous opening rumble breaks into an eerily contagious song. "Morning brings news of a wasted life / Video brings footage of children dying / No moral face to the endless war / No moral face to the endless war," sings Farrar. 8. "Medication" "Livin'
on medication, Commentary on our overmedicated nation set to vaguely eastern guitar. (Don't worry--this has nothing to do with either Scientology or Tom Cruise.) 9. "6 String Belief" "The
Declaration framed the States, This song first appeared on Jay Farrar's live album Stone, Steel & Bright Lights (2004). The new version is blistering. 10. "Gramophone" "Three
generations can't be wrong, How can you not love an ode to analog technology? Moreover, this song features a chorus which (to quote a friend) "makes you sing along before you can even figure out the words." 11. "Chaos Streams" "Smile
upon the chaos streams, Another strong song awash in guitars. Here's hoping that Farrar and Co. tour extensively in support of this album. 12. "World Waits for You" "Find
strength from the words, The above quotation seems an excellent summation of the "borrow and rework" tradition of protest music. This piano-driven song differs from the preceding eleven, however, and thus is best placed here at the end. 13. "World Waits for You (Reprise)" Perhaps we could have done without this reprise, but who are we to begrudge a little bombast. The synth accompaniment, however, will earn the boys half a cheezeball. In summation: Go to your local record store. Buy this album. Half-a-cheezeball for track 13. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |