Music: New Releases, October 2011 Volume 1

Various Artists

The Lost Notebooks Of Hank Williams

Rather than a review of this album, it would be easy to devote an entire article to the circumstances of its creation: some years ago, Sony (owner of Columbia Records) went to Bob Dylan to ask him if he’d take some unfinished lyrics by Hank Williams, complete them and set them to music. Dylan said he couldn’t do it all himself, but he’d recruit other musicians to help. In the meantime, the Williams estate questioned Sony’s rights to commission the recording in the first place. The Williams family split over the project: Hank Jr. and his daughter Holly are included, but Hank’s grandson, Hank 3, and great-granddaughter Jett are not. Rumors flew about artists who turned down participating (including Neil Young and Bruce Springsteen), allegedly out of “respect” for Williams’ memory, and others whose contributions to the album were recorded, but mysteriously disappeared (including Willie Nelson). And finally, an album that was recorded in 2007, in conjunction with a “Family Tradition” exhibit at the Country Music Hall of Fame, for some reason sat on the shelf for four years before seeing the light of day. In light of all that, the twelve songs that make up the actual album itself are almost anti-climactic.

It opens with Alan Jackson’s “You’ve Been Lonesome, Too,” which nails the feel and (allowing for modern recording techniques) sound of classic Hank Williams. But copying Williams’ sound (and approximating his melodic sense) isn’t particularly an achievement; guys like this have the music in their blood, and if this were a Jackson original, we’d probably dismiss it as vintage to the point of dustiness. Dylan’s “The Love That Faded” follows, and is probably the album’s musical high point, a bittersweet waltz with one of Dylan’s most affecting vocals of recent years.

…an album that was recorded in 2007…for some reason sat on the shelf for four years before seeing the light of day…

Things get problematic after that. “How Many Times Have You Broken My Heart?” is a pretty mundane piece of writing, and Norah Jones’ breathiness feels out of place. Jack White’s “You Know That I Know” might be the cleverest lyric here, but I’d love to see a comparison of what Hank left behind, versus what White added, because there’s a whiff of contemporary self-congratulation; it’s not helped by White’s chicken-strangling vocal. Lucinda Williams’ vocal restraint and solo guitar accompaniment lend dignity to “I’m So Happy I Found You,” not trying to out-Hank the others, and Jakob Dylan’s “Oh, Mama, Come Home” is a brisk, welcome contrast to the lugubrious tempos that otherwise dominate. Holly Williams’ “Blue Is My Heart” lopes along conventionally enough, until her dad pops up out of nowhere, bellowing out harmony vocals on the end of the refrain, threatening to swamp the delicate melody. Merle Haggard gets the last word, and “The Sermon On The Mount” is a welcome change of pace from the tales of lost love, even if it’s a pretty slight example of white gospel.

I can understand the arguments about the propriety of the undertaking, and about the effectiveness of the result. But if we take the album’s purpose as allowing us to hear previously-unknown Williams lyrics, rather than just read the notebooks behind glass in a museum, it makes its point.

Feist

Metals

The resurgence of big-voiced female singers continues. Leslie Feist may be a tad less plush than Adele, but she’s got more on her mind than blaming her boyfriend; she may be marginally less gritty than Joss Stone, but there’s more good writing on any given track here than on the entire running time of Superheavy.

“The Bad in Each Other” kicks off the album in big, reverberant sound, driven by a twisted guitar riff and handclap percussion, Feist doing her best Kate Bush wail, wrapping up with a big, brassy finish, leaving the vocals behind as a lost cause. Even in the context of Feist’s previous work, it’s not the most uplifting set of songs; in fact, “Bittersweet Melodies” would have been a pretty good (if on-the-nose) choice for a title song: “We had the same feelings at opposite times, ” “A good man and a good woman / Bring out the worst in the other / The bad in each other.” “The Circle Married the Line” is all heartbreak vocal, vibes and pizzicato strings, while “Graveyard” is just about as cheerful as you’d expect: “Roots and lies / Our family tree.” Even the bucolic Big Sur setting of the album’s recording gets turned on its ear when “Undiscovered First” shifts from lip-licking vocals with stomping, chain-gang percussion and broken, slashing guitar riff, into a massed chorus and vocal that fades out on the despair of “Is this the way to live / Is it wrong to want more?” Metals isn’t the conceptual leap forward I think a lot of fans were hoping for, but it’s certainly well placed in the emotional here and now.

… “Bittersweet Melodies” would have been a pretty good (if on-the-nose) choice for a title…

Zola Jesus

Conatus

By now, the whole “Rename Someone as Jesus” thing is getting old (once we had the “Jesus of Cool,” all other iterations became redundant), but Nika Danilova almost justifies it with the washes of electronic sound and powerful vocals.

“Vessels” delivers something of a change-up from expectations, with more vocal FX than actual singing, but the track builds confidently, finally surging over the thudding percussion to a powerful ending. “Ixode” employs a similar buildup-and-release to good effect, while “Hikikomori” and “Shivers” get their goth on appropriately. And while it’d be hard to imagine a more teeth-gnashingly coy song title than “Lick the Palm of the Burning Handshake,” it’s also the catchiest tune here. Bleak? A little. But let’s face it: a gal fleeing Wisconsin winters for the sun and smog of L.A. is entitled to her weird mixture of drive and disillusion.

 …a gal fleeing Wisconsin winters for the sun and smog of L.A. is entitled to her weird mixture of drive and disillusion.

Merle Haggard 

Working In Tennessee

I spent this past weekend at San Francisco’s free Hardly Strictly Bluegrass festival, and while I enjoyed great sets from artists as diverse as Those Darlins, Justin Townes Earle, Hugh Laurie, and Bob Mould, there’s no question that the live pairing of Haggard with Kris Kristofferson was one for the ages. And, just in time, the Hag delivers his 5,263rd or so album. It’s almost redundant to speak of the consistent high quality of the music making: Haggard’s “secret” is the simple fact that he’s an unusually intelligent and empathetic musician with a knack for the telling detail and an ability to mine the classic without sacrificing the vernacular.

“If you find yourself in lockup, write a song about a jail.”

“If you find yourself in lockup, write a song about a jail.” And that sums it up pretty well: even if you or I survived a night in lockup, we’d be hard pressed to keep our wits about us (much less our muse) to produce something as loose-limbed and funny as “Laugh It Off.” Part of what makes the current run of Haggard albums so strong is that the specter of his battle with lung cancer doesn’t loom over the material: in addition to “Laugh It Off,” topics include love for the music of Bob Wills, life on a houseboat, a surfeit of boogie woogie, and the cheerful hard living of Johnny Cash’s “Cocaine Blues.” Even when things sober up (“What I Hate,” “Sometimes I Dream”), the vision is of the possibility of a better future, not a bleak one. Hag saves the guest appearances for the end, so that the album wraps up with the one-two punch of his son Ben, along with Willie Nelson, harmonizing with Merle on a new version of “Workin’ Man Blues,” before wife Theresa trades sly, affectionate put-downs with him on the Cash-Carter classic, “Jackson.”