what i'm listening to

By Robbie on May 27, 2009

1.  In A Bad Mood by Geraint Watkins.  This master musician (piano, guitar, organ, accordion, voice; accompanist for Van Morrison, Paul McCartney, Nick Lowe) put out his first record in 1979 and his second, the unique and pretty incredible Bold as Love, in 1997.  This is his second record in the decade-plus since (an encouraging quickening), and, despite the unity suggested by the title, his most all-over-the-map yet in terms of style and mood.  His lyric-writing is like his instrumental touch, austere and anti-cerebral.  There are occasional winks here, sardonic little twists there, but this record is packed with earnest cliches.  Well, life and love are full of them, and, as Mr. Watkins demonstrates, vice-versa.

2.  Knock Yourself Out by Danny Barnes.  Banjo and drums are a killer and little-explored combo.  Though there's other instrumentation (and singing) they're the meat of this offering.  Tim O'Brien said "the words Danny Barnes mean 'artist'"; to wit, he's spent his life honing his raw skill without honing it into nothingness, he's kept open to influence and experience, and he hasn't repeated himself.  I can't think of anyone else who so lustily fuses the ancient and the modern.  This record is an improved and purer isotope!

3.  Americana by Jimmie Driftwood.  In country music, for some reason, you can't go too wrong with guys named Hank and Jimmie (make sure of the "ie" spelling though).  This is the Jimmie that wrote "Tennessee Stud," "The Battle of New Orleans," and many many others, all of them verbally lush and diligently rhymed.  He throws his husky voice into his lyrics with a showbizzy, top-of-the-beat zest that sometimes sounds a little retarded (which I mean in the kindest way).  Further, on quite a few of these tracks he plays a homemade instrument that sounds like a baritone Jew's harp and looks, in the booklet photos accompanying this typically opulent Bear Family release, like it was delicately whittled from the femur of an ass.  Outstanding music.

4. Look at the Birdy by Chris Ligon.  Terry Adams compiled this overview of the music of my dear friend Chris.  It's 18 songs and 33 minutes long.  Naturally there are a few I myself would or would not have chosen, but the sequencing and variety here are very strong.  I think this collection guides you, with a firm but subtle hand, to the diamond-bright heartfeltness that beats behind Chris's clown's mask.

5.  Longview (all three records).  This is bluegrass influenced by the bluegrass of the 1950s and 1960s.  Meaning what?  As I've said before, bluegrass's worldline (sorry, been reading a book about relativity) has been traveling on a non-varying geodesic, toward smoother surfaces and faster tempos, for 70 years; so the 1950s are a period of semi-smooth, relatively.  It's like sparkly pop next to the Dixon Brothers but it's like an anthracite hailstorm next to the Gibson Brothers.  The singing of such as Dudley Connell, Don Rigsby, and James King is beyond the power of words to describe.  It's true that Longview's music isn't very "original," but alongside it, originality looks pretty tepid and irrelevant.