Category: AltCountry


Jesus said, “Be careful, or your hearts will be weighed down with dissipation, drunkenness and the anxieties of life, and that day will close on you unexpectedly like a trap.” (Luke 21:34).

Be careful, and you might think that Morgan Christopher Geer’s band, Drunken Prayer, is simply weighed down by alcohol. That name would give you that impression. On listening to the new album, Into the Missionfield, you realize that Geer’s also weighed down by dissipation and the anxieties of life. It’s AltCountry core with plenty of bluesy vibes, feelings, and themes. With spiritual touches throw in throughout, though, it seems that Geer takes the name seriously and might just be calling out to a higher power for relief from these blues.

That spiritual moment comes front and center when Geer covers the traditional “Ain’t No Grave” in one of the best versions I have heard in a long time. It’s a blues stomp with punk-like intensity—pounding drums, organ wash, big riff guitars. There’s almost a soul dance feel until the bridge which pulls it all back for a Gospel sway. But then the urgent pounding comes back with abandon to close out the track.

Geer shows an incredible range, though, so while “Ain’t No Grave” might be a standout here, it does not necessarily sum what you’ll find on Into the Missionfield. For instance, track 1 is “Brazil.” In trying to describe the song, I jotted down a whole series of comparisons. There’s John Hiatt’s country ramble. It’s partly Todd Snider and Loudon Wainwright III in its wry outlook on life. Meanwhile, Geer sings with a timbre very reminiscent of Randy Newman. He sings, “If I lived in Brazil, would you spend some time with me?” He’s singing about his “baby” and the “good news” that she won’t desert him. It’s the acoustic guitar/folky parts of James Taylor with much, much more of an edge, especially as the folky beginning gives way to the band coming in with its bluesy punch.

Elsewhere, Drunken Prayer settles back into an AltCountry with a light touch—the pop bright “Always Sad” and the New Orleans-flavored “Maryjane.” The 50’s rock “Take a Walk” sees Geer almost slip into a John Wesley Harding voice over the backbeat for the sock hop.

Borrowing from a common sign near the exits from church parking lots, Geer sings “Smile, you’re entering the missionfield” on “The Missionfield.” Yet, this bluesy rumble that slowly grows until it growls isn’t thinking in terms of the church mission of taking the Gospel out into the community. Instead, it’s the dark tale of a man warped by his surroundings and circumstances.

Now you are entering the missionfield.
Daddy was a dog, and your mama was a storm.
And when the rains came, a killer was born.

Now that’s the stuff of the blues, peering into the mind of a murderer’s darkness as he steps out on his own kind of mission.

Drunken Prayer continues the variety with a horn-laden, soul-like country on “Balloons.” The album closes out with the south of the border tune, “Never Tends to Forget”—gentle at times, riff-rock at others.

As you follow the variety, you’ll continue to see that we’re all weighed down in our own ways by dissipation, drunkenness, and the anxieties of life. Geer sings out those blues and leaves just traces of some kind of good news out there beyond the horizon.

Drunken Prayer
Fluff and Gravy Records

I got my teeth cleaned today. I don’t know what it is, but I get kind of tense while the dentist is scraping away at the plaque. To help with the tension, I brought my headphones today, telling the dentist that I didn’t mean to be rude but that the music would keep me calm. (Plus, it would drown out the sound of Lite FM radio drilling down tunes by Air Supply).

I dialed up Wilco’s The Whole Love, the album that got lots of attention in the year-end lists for 2011. I have been enthralled by Wilco’s continuing work at breaking boundaries. While the album contains snippets and remnants of the Uncle Tupelo, AltCountry roots, Wilco draws in so much soul sway into their rock ‘n’ roll.

So the scraping of my teeth began, and I pressed start on The Whole Love. The album opens with a mashup of electronic noise, giving way to the sprawling “Art of Almost.” It jams and rolls, enveloping me in another world through the warmth, depth of the headphone sound. I came close to tapping my foot too much in the dentist chair as “I Might” marches along with a hint of Motown or the blues in the wings.

I became a little too aware of how force the dentist was using when things grew quiet for the dream-like “Sunloathe.” The song meanders for quite a while, and if I could have reached the forward button, I would’ve jumped to the twang fuzz of “Dawned on Me.”

Fortunately, my day at the dentist soon drew to a close, but listening to part of The Whole Love put me in the mood to finish the record. The sound of “Black Moon” recalls the slowcore, AltCountry of Damien Jurado, bringing to mind driving around the edges of a small town in the dark plains of Nebraska. “Born Alone” catches my attention with its rootsy, Tom Petty-meets-Neil-Young, psychedelic vamping charm. I’m not sure the lyrics come to a coherent meaning, drawing more of a picture than anything, but the first line makes my ears perk up: “I have heard the wall and worry of the gospel.” I’m not sure how the Gospel is a wall or a worry, but I’d love to explore that feeling with Jeff Tweedy.

The twang, slow horse ride returns for the beautiful landscape of “Open Mind.” “Capitol City” works in a vaudevillian softshoe. The Who rear their influence for the opening riffs of “Standing O,” while the driving stanzas and chorus owe much to the Kinks—or at least Kinks-influenced bands of recent years, such as AutoVaughn, the Blue Van, or the 22-20s. The title track is a soft swagger, a Beatlesque walk through the park, buoyed by “The Whole Love.”

Then there’s the 12 minute “One Sunday Morning (Song for Jane Smiley’s Boyfriend),” a gorgeous ballad story of sorts, broken up by this picked line that draws out joy in the middle of heartbreak and sorrow. Apparently inspired by a conversation with Smiley’s boyfriend about religion and an overbearing father, I would again invite conversation with Tweedy to see if there’s common ground to be found between his view of religion and mine. Could it be that the “wall and worry of the gospel” could find hope and salvation in knowing more of the true Christ? I await an invitation for that conversation.

Meanwhile, my teeth checked out. No cavities. And my mind was filled with the sounds of soul-searching, soulful, AltCountry, rather than just hearing that scraping.

Wilco

Lining up like surfers waiting for the next big wave, the Old 97’s ride into the swell on “Marquita,” the best instrumental of 2011. From their album, The Grand Theatre, Volume 2, it only lasts about a minute and a half, but it charges up the set, leading right into the romping “Bright Spark (See What I Mean).” “Marquita” pairs surf rock overtones with twang of AltCountry punk, raring to go running down the beach, into the waves, and back again. While the Old 97’s are not known for instrumentals, I hope that “Marquita” makes it way into live sets as a way to push into the next section of the set or to introduce the final song for the evening.

Old 97’s
New West Records

I had ordered a Scratch Acid record from SST Records after scanning their catalog that came with a Negativland cassette. This around the time of being a freshman in high school, and for whatever reason, I kept the SST catalog and the Scratch Acid record under my bed. It was a flat, safe place for vinyl. OK, and I suppose it was also a place to keep the dangerous seeming Scratch Acid record out of sight from my parents. I lived teenage years far from rebellion, and as such, I reserved my rebellion for vinyl and cassettes. SST opened a whole next step in musical rebellion.

SST introduced me to plenty of artists, and only my limited funds kept me from purchasing more. Plus, the terror of having to ask my mom to write a check to “SST Records” to mail order more music and wondering if she would ask, “Just who is this band named the Meat Puppets?”

When that Meat Puppets’ Huevos cassette first arrived, I suppose I was a bit surprised. Where Scratch Acid was scream through guitars, where Husker Du was experimentation on top of punk, where Negativland was sampling and avant-garde, seemingly there was much less of that here with the Meat Puppets. The rebellion came in reserved tones as if inspired by Westerns, Tex Mex border music, and folk. Huevos did not have to be hidden under the bed—as long as my parents didn’t notice the track “Sexy Music.” It was music that could be played in the background while doing homework without attracting unwanted parental attention. It was music that opened me to a new Western world of rock ‘n’ roll that shook off convention, barged through form, and hearkened back to country as much as punk. Huevos might not have been hidden under the bed, but SST’s release was still opening me to another kind of musical rebellion.

Earlier in 2011, the Meat Puppets released Lollipop (on Megaforce Records, not SST), a return in many ways to those classic days of 1987’s Huevos—Western skies, driving rhythms, folk-influenced punk. In fact, the opening track, “Incomplete,” and its close vocal harmonies reference the “Western wind”. I love the opening piano notes that chime on track two, “Orange”—introspection introduction before Shandon Sahm’s drums pound things open and Cris Kirkwood’s bass grinds out the undertones. That introspection, though, remains the basis for the folk-influenced punk. Like a backbeat Camper Van Beethoven tune, “Shave It” rides along like a top-heavy, swaying old school-bus-turned-camper. Sahm’s snare fills kick up the dust here.

AltCountry two-step leads the way for “Baby Don’t.” Things turn more towards the garage on “Hour of the Idiot,” as Curt Kirkwood’s guitar brings psychedelic charms to the laidback punk. “Town” strikes out at that country feel again as if reinterpreting early Gordon Lightfoot while channeling a Paul Westerberg ballad. “Damn Thing” moves ahead down empty highways, while “Way That It Are” darkens up that psychedelic guitar with a bass from Cris that shows that these kind of punks did more than just keep rhythm.

If you’re looking for a different kind of musical rebellion, rebellion that includes twang and folk in your punk-minded world, close out your 2011 with the Meat Puppets’ Lollipop.

The Meat Puppets
Megaforce Records

The now-closed Not Lame Recordings specialized in producing and distributing power pop rock. While most of their releases were relatively little known, the music really popped out of the speakers—guitars jangling, vocal harmonies swirling, and rhythms driving forward down sunny freeways.

Not Lame flashed in my mind recently as I listened to Track a Tiger’s A Southern Blue. Sure, the band’s on Futureappletree/Deep Elm and doesn’t have a Not Lame connection. Sure, the band’s more often compared to Low, Wilco, and Yo La Tengo, while noting the Americana/AltCountry undertones. However, on A Southern Blue, when things get cranked up a bit more, as the boy-girl vocals bounce around lightly, that’s when the power pop thought crossed my mind. “We Tried to Hide” works its way up to big, strutting guitar chords. “Now She’s Fine” floats on pop bubbles while keeping enough charge in its step that really enters the frame on a nicely placed slide guitar. Like a pulled back version of the Cars, keyboards and beats propel “You’re Pretty Tall for a Girl” forward. Other power tracks here include “I Won’t Leave Your Love Behind” and the intriguingly catchy “Meet Me at the Western Gate.”

Not Lame Recordings may not exist anymore, but Track a Tiger gets you realizing that there’s still plenty of power pop out there. If you like what Wilco does to bring a twang and drawl to their approach to rock that’s also informed by pop and soul, then you will certainly find something for yourself on A Southern Blue.

Meanwhile, you can also head over to Pop Geek Heaven where Not Lame dude, Bruce Bordeen, is crafting a great little space for power pop. You can sign up for a free membership, grab free music (including a Not Lame sampler), and be well-informed on all things in the indie power pop world.

Track a Tiger
Futureappletree
Deep Elm

From the blissed out, fuzzy vacant stare of “Fast One” by New Ruins, I hear Neil Young, the Feelies, Cabin Dogs, Galaxie 500, the Railway Children, and Meat Puppets. What that means as you pick up New Ruins’ This Life is Not Ours to Keep is chiming guitars, swirling melodies, close vocal harmonies, and a driving force behind subdued mists. Album opener, “Blackbirds,” has a shoegazer AltCountry, lo-fi slowcore base joined together with some bigger glimpses into 70’s Laurel Canyon rock. It’s Spokane and Holy Sons meeting Jay Farrar. Like the Feelies, everything feels pulled back, almost sleepy, until you realize that your leg is bouncing to the rhythms—an urgent energy underneath it all that’s always an inch away from breaking it all apart.

New Music
Earth Analog Records

Bon Iver cites Richard Buckner as an influence, and Buckner has been associated with AltCountry—although I suppose a more pulled back, brooding affair than the cowpunk side of things. With 2011’s Our Blood, I hear a deadened John Gorka in Buckner’s voice. It’s Gorka in the bleaker moments without the humor. Aside from a similarity to John Gorka and the influence that appears in Bon Iver, I also hear how Buckner might have influenced Thomas Denver Jonsson (I’m Kingfisher), James Yorkston, Damien Jurado, and others in the murky, AltCountry folk scene.

Our Blood envelopes and surrounds like a clapboard house with plenty of wind blowing right through the walls. The lyric sheet reveals lines that evoke a feeling more than telling stories. It’s like seeing something out of the corner of your eye which disappears if you look at it straight on. If you listen to Buckner’s lyrics off to the side, you know what he means; but if you turn and look at them straight on and try to explain what he’s saying, well, it all just vanishes.

Richard Buckner
Merge Records

In between being an adjunct instructor and holding down a full time job, Chris Grabau is the lead songwriter for Magnolia Summer. A St. Louis band that earlier this year ventured on their first UK tour (with Dolly Varden), Magnolia Summer play a version of AltCountry landing them quite near Son Volt and Jay Farrar. Playing at home at St. Louis’ Off Broadway, supporting Chris Mills (see below), the band charged up a small crowd on June 23.

The set began with “Forest from the Weeds,” a song that sounds like being out on the Mississippi River on a boat drinking Buds. The night found Magnolia Summer in their stripped back version—two guitars, bass, and drums—whereas sometimes they’re augmented by multiple instrumentalists and even horns. Still the power remained on rockers like “Wish You Well.” Sounding like a Jay Farrar song coming through some dusty static, “Short Wave Decline” works a great metaphor for life’s fading moments.

When I asked Grabau about songwriting, he said, “Everything is a process.” Often bringing a song to the band in some form, they then “feel it out together.” I noted the spiritual connection to rock music, and Grabau agreed saying, “It’s about connections, trying to make connections with others, with yourself, with something else.” While it’s not explicit in Magnolia Summer’s music, I certainly see that their music points to something bigger than what we have in ourselves. A spiritual moment appeared within range on the contemplative ballad like “Birds on a Wire,” a searching song (“no chance or point of returning”).

As the set continued, the Blue Mountain-like “Once Awhile” set up the heavier moment of “The Song No One is Singing” with its Drivin’ ‘n’ Cryin’ sound and awesome bridge ending. After that, they pulled things back again for “Planned Obsolescence.” “By Your Side” remains laid back until a firecracker guitar solo on the bridge. Towards the end of the set, “The Current Moves” displayed that Son Volt sound which meets R.E.M. That led right into “To Better Days” which led right into “Along for a Ride,” three rockers before Magnolia Summer punched out for the night.

Not in the set are two instrumentals from the band’s EP releases from 2010. “Bird” and “The Second Voyage” were part of a soundtrack planned for St. Louis’ outdoor City Garden sculptures. While the project didn’t see daylight yet, you can hear these driving, moving, passionate instrumentals on the EPs. Grabau hopes to release the full soundtrack project in some form in the future.

Chris Mills
Chicago-now-in-Brooklyn AltCountry rocker Chris Mills pleased the small crowd at Off Broadway with a set mainly pulled from his most recent release, a favorites collection, Heavy Years: 2000-2010. “All Our Days and Nights” started the set and showed his rootsy, indie, twangy rock that pounds away. Clearly enjoying themselves, Mills and company can pull out a 50’s rock riff even while smashing out some pogoing country.

“Such a Beautiful Thing” stretches out in a tale of 40 days and nights in the desert of a lost love, although at times it seems it could also be the words of Jesus mourning the loss of His people to sin. Mills sings,

Took 40 days and 40 nights to get myself feeling right
The desert in my head was dry as a bone
I followed bread crumb trails and Christmas lights and satellites
Even shouted your name through a cheap megaphone
.

With wordplay like John Wesley Harding, “Atom Smashers” had a cow punk intensity as a live song, and the song really recalls the love of Jesus given to all people, to the rich and famous, to the poor and destitute, to the prostitutes, tax collectors, and sinners.

Give my regards to the atom smashers,
The king of monsters, and the man of tomorrow,
Give my best to the plantation masters,
The captains of industries,
Kiss for me sweet Virginia,
Hold for me Miss America,
Give my love to statues of bigotry.

Magnolia Summer
Chris Mills

Twanging AltCountry with a classic rock sensibility and a bit of Muscle Shoals horns. That’s how Moonlight Towers’ Day is the New Night opens with “Heat Lightning.” When the band stays in that twang rock zone, driving ahead rhythms on what seem like punk short songs, then Day is at its best. The gem “Can’t Shake This Feeling” charges ahead with even more of the classic rock soul. That soul continues to shake things on “The Easy Way Out.” Moonlight Towers sends you speeding down some dusty highway on “What Else Can I Say,” a song just long enough to get you just a few miles down the road to the next exit. The album closes out with the pounding, blues rocker “Black River,” showing that Moonlight Towers channel 70’s classic rock even while hearkening to AltCountry pioneers Uncle Tupelo/Wilco. It’s like Grand Drive got extra muscle, shaking off the melancholic dreaming but kept the harmonies. Finally, lest you think of skipping over all of the ballad tracks on Day, listen to the sweltering, bluesy “Distant Wheels,” and then you realize that AltCountry might be too narrow a description of band that conjures up the blues.

Moonlight Towers
Chicken Ranch Records

Buffalo Tom’s “Arise, Watch” aches with what can only be called eschatological angst. Known for a twangy folk-influenced rock, their 2011 album, Skins, opens with a brooding, waltzing, swaying darkness on “Arise, Watch.” Verses seem to be only about waiting to meet a lover at the “kissing gate” with her “strawberry hair,” but the chorus is about a soul crying out, arising, watching, waiting. That’s when the song takes the eschatological turn, like a man waking up to watch for the bridegroom to come, Jesus Christ coming to take His people to eternal life.

Oh my soul!
(Awake and take the road)
Arise, watch!
(Fools will sink low)
Oh my soul
(take the right path)
Arise, watch!

Oh, I don’t know that the song really holds up to that interpretation, but the palpable ache certainly speaks volumes to someone whose waiting for Jesus to return—not because I want Him to blow this place to smithereens but just aching for Him to come, redeem, restore, renew, and bring us to live with Him forever.

That phrase, “arise, watch,” rings biblical. The words show up in the Old Testament book Lamentations (chapter 2) as the prophet aches with the pain of the people of Jerusalem which has been destroyed, its people exiled.

Arise, cry out in the night,
as the watches of the night begin;
pour out your heart like water
in the presence of the Lord.
Lift up your hands to him
for the lives of your children,
who faint from hunger
at the head of every street.

That phrase, “arise, watch,” sounds like the words of those who follow Jesus—not in some preposterous Last Day prediction like the recent one—but follow Jesus in a way that says we’re always prepared in faith for Him to return even while we look to restore this world each day by our actions of love. “Arise, watch” are words echoing the bridegroom parable that Jesus told in

Again, “arise, watch” echo with the warning of Jesus to be on guard in our souls since we do not know when He will return, coming like a thief in the night (Mark 13).

So where’s that leave this Buffalo Tom song? Another love song that can carry a greater weight—even as the Song of Songs in the Old Testament carries more than just its love poem but can also point to the love God has for His people. Yet, besides that biblical phrasing, “Arise, Watch,” wouldn’t have recalled such a comparison if not for the eschatological brooding in the music. It seems to be about much more than just waiting for a girl by the gate; the soul hangs in the balance of this arising, watching, waiting.

Buffalo Tom

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