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TIM EASTON
The Truth About Us
New West
Despite what some would have
you believe—and although I really
can't speak lor his intent—Tim
Easton's second album The Truth
About Us really isn't alt-country. 01
course, the whole alt-country/
Americana umbrella is so wide that a
multitude ol dilferent sounds and
styles tall under it. and sure, there’s the
compelling case made thanks to
appearances by members ol Wilco and
twangy royal couple Victoria Williams
and Mark Olsen. Still, “alt-country"
seems to be just too limiting a term to
describe the lormer Haynes Brothers
Irontman's songwriting 01 course,
“really good* is a pretty damn simple
description, as well, but it tits perfectly.
Like Wilco. Easton uses folk and
country, as well as the whole singer-
songwriter tradition, as more ol a base,
a springboard for his lyrical journeys,
rather than a rigidly defined roadmap.
The comparison to Witco is a danger
ously easy one; drummer Ken Coomer.
bassist John Stirratt and multi-mstru-
menlalist Jay Bennett provide back-up
lor the 11 songs that make up The Truth
About Us. On top ol that. Easton's lazy
vocals have sort of a “Jeff Tweedy trying
to do John Prine’ quality to them, but
his voice—both vocally and lyrically—
is all Easton's own. His detailed decon
structions of relationships and angst are
immediately stunning, thanks to the
dry-yet-full production by Joe
Chiccarelli, and by the fifth or sixth go-
around. The Truth About Us makes one
wonder why Easton isn't more well
known in singer-songwriter aretes.
The most immediately arresting
track on the record is the swirling
“Downtown Lights.* With programmed
drums and a plaintive cry in the chorus,
the song is one of the best descriptions
of that always-burning itch to “see the
bright lights tonight' laid to tape since
Richard Tnompson still kept lime with
his ex-old lady Linda. An atypical folkie.
Easton mixes dark humor on "Happy
Now." detailing a suicide with peppy,
uptempo backing, and the heartbreaking
since of loss that permeates the entire
record is cast in clear relief on desperate
tunes like “Carry Me* and “Get Some
Lonesome." On both songs, and
throughout the record. Easton's strong
but never overpowering vocals put
across a feeling of pure, plain longing
that's heartbreaking while still being all
too familiar Again, it's a bit puzzling
Easton's stock isn't higher with the No
Depression crowd and stumbling upon
his music is a pleasant revelation lor
those who dig on pure, simple and solid
songwriting. In the end. really, mere
labels don’t mean a damn thing. The
Truth About Us is a damn fine record,
and that's all that matters. (P.0 Box
4700 Austin. TX 78765)
Matt Thompson
Tim Easton plays at Barnes & Noble
Sunday. October 14 and at Tasty World
on Monday. October 15.
ROCK*A*TEH\IS
Noon Under The Trees
Moodswing
Up after hours with another
Rock*A*Teens record—a heady
prospect that always feels like a late
night look into Cabbagetown minstrel
Chris Lopez's head. Lopez is for real in
that he howts like he's |ust about to fall
overboard, and the song he's singing is
elegiac and empyreal at the same time
This worked to great effect on last year's
Sweet Bird Ol Youth, but the melodies
here aren't quite ou perfumed.
Thus, the songs lurch into Wedding
Present territory, with haunting atmos
pheres a la “Twin Peaks" maestro Angelo
Badalamenti—only feistier (see "It's Too
Bad Love He's A Sad One" as evi
dence ..). What the people behind
Lopez remember, is that in an era when
the groove seems to have become the
a'l-important thing, dynamics are often
lust as key. And all throughout "These
Starving Heartisls" the band does the
ultra-commendable by keeping pace with
Lopez as he goes through the drama of
unfurling his psyche. Considering the
attention they pav to the overall portrait
ol their sound, one wonders what they'd
come oft like with some powerhouse
production. Then again, how much com
pression can you lay on music that's so
balmy and put together like macrame 9 1
say it's worth a shot (3833 Roswell Rd..
Ste. 104. Atlanta. GA 30342)
JoE Silva
The Rock 'A * Teens play at the
Caledonia Lounge on Friday. October 12
DRUMS & TUBA
Vinyl Killer
Righteous Babe
To be honest. Ani DiFranco makes
me cringe, and the thought ol aligning
mysell with her Righteous Babe empire
makes me cringe even more. Needless to
say. it was tough to approach this record
objectively, and it's with some reserva
tion that I admit. Drums & Tuba's Vinyl
Killer \s actually a very decent album.
The New York-based trio spends
most ol its time treading ground about
halfway between Soft Machine and
Phisn. Some pieces fuse Free Jazz-style
improvisation with highly organized
metodicism (“The Diagram* in partic
ular sounds like a Mothers Of Invention
piece with drum loops) At other times,
however. Drums & Tuba swings so far in
'.he opposite direction that one can
almost smell the patchouli oil
(“Royronous* and 'Prince Meets the
Phantom" are particularly hippied-out)
Essentially. Vinyl Killer \s a portrait
of a post-rock group unashamed ol its
Deadhead roots. Most pieces are dense,
to say the least. Elements of marching
band music and New Orleans Jazz can
be found among the samples, loops and
electronics, and some tunes settle into a
nice Funk groove in keeping with the
band's previous releases Other high
lights include a country-blues tune.
“The Sauce Maker." and the
Beefheartian. “The Horse And The Tree."
With a little luck. W/7y/ /C///ermight
bridge the gap between hippie and hip
ster. Recommended for fans of Rusted
Root and Tortoise. (PO Box 95. Ellicot
Station. Buffalo, NY 14205)
Jason Henn
Drums & Tuba plays al Tasty World
on Saturday. October 13.
ROBERT EARL Kffltl
Gravitational Forces
Lost Highway/Universal
Texas musicians are an odd bunch
because, well. Texas is an odd state. A
few months back. I was drinking/talking
with a Texas musician—the names will
be withheld to protect the guilty—
about, other things, Texas musicians,
and the talk eventually turned to Robert
Earl Keen, the reigning king of new-
wave Lone Star troubadours. This
nameless Texas musician, himself no
stranger to the variances of fame, was of
the opinion that Keen had a maior talent
lor penning songs with rich, full lyrical
landscapes and vision, yet had aban-
ooned his muse to play performing seat
to the Dockers-and-Gap. post-lrat
crowd Far be it for me to try to read
REK’s mind or even cast asparagus on
what may just be a fellow tunesmilh’s
professional jealousy, but I'm inclined to
agree with that statement. Since 1993’s
Bigger Piece Ol Sky, Keen really hasn't
put together a fully realized record,
much less one that had anything more
than the occasional spark of inspiration.
Sure. No. 2 Live Dmerms a nifty live
record and Ihe albums in between had a
handful of great songs on them, but
since that watermark. Keen seu.is lo be
treading water. Admittedly, though, he’s
treading a body ol wafer that's bringing
him plenty of bread, but we as listeners
may be poorer for it all. Me. I blame it
all on that damn “Merry Christmas
From The Family" tune.
In that light. Gravitational Forces is
both the most enjoyable album Keen has
done in years and Ihe strangest. It’s
enjoyable because of a nifty selection ol
covers and solid originals, particularly
the haunting “Wild Wind," one of Keen's
best tunes in a while, and the rather
vicious “Gom' Nowhere Blues.” It's odd
because, well, live of Ihe 12 damn songs
are covers, albeit covers of high quality.
He does wonderful justice on Johnny
Cash’s hearlbreakingly lovely “I Still
Miss Someone." a personal favorite of
the Man In Black, and Townes Van
Zandt's “Snowin' On Raton * As he did
previously with “Amarillo Highway.*
Keen tackles West Texas iconoclast Terry
Allen's twisted bent on the world with
“High Plains Jamboree." although Ihe
latter doesn't click quite as well as Ihe
former did. Plus, his Dobro-laden take
on the traditional Texas folk tune “Walkin'
Cane" is sure to be a live favorite.
There are two missteps on
Gravitational Forces, lo be honest. One
is the somewhat misguided Beat Poetry
attempt of the title track; just doesn't
work. Robert, sorry, good try. though.
Plus, lor some inexplicable reason.
Keen reculs his signature tune, the
blood-and-love bandit tale “The Road
Goes On Forever.* I can't figure out why,
really; it was done solidly on 1989’s
West Textures and perfected on the
aforementioned live record. There was
no reason to cut it again, really, and its
inclusion makes an olherwise great
return lo form a bit puzzling. Then
again. I ain't from Texas. I probably
wouldn't understand anyway (10
Universal City Plaza. 4th Floor.
Universal City. CA 91608)
Matt Thompson
Robed Earl Keen plays al Ihe
Georgia Theatre on Friday. October 12.
OURS
Distorted Lullabies
Dreamworks
Much has been made of this New
Jersey group's resemblance, somcally
and even physically, to the late Jefl
Buckley. I must admit that what I've seen
and heard from Ours, especially about
frontman and Buckley dead ringer
Jimmy Gnecco. is eerie. The group's
major label debut Distoded Lullabies.
features song after song that resembles
Buckley's more aggressive numbers.
The first single. “Sometimes." which
uses extreme guitar dynamics to dra
matic effect. Gnecco quickly launches
his howling, yet pitch perfect, vocal into
Ihe stratosphere and only occasionally
lets it back down. His voice is a near
match with Buckley's, perhaps with a
hint cf Bono in the lower register.
Because the band goes to such rad
ical lengths to infuse drama into its
songs. Ours makes itself as much an
acquired taste as Buckley did. As
opening track “Fallen Souls" quickly
unfolds with the rhythm section throb
bing and Gnecco's Goth voice
screaming in a sea of reverb, you'll
probably either find it exhilarating or
irritating. Distoded Lullabies, like
Buckley's masterstroke Grace derives
strength from, but simultaneously earns
jeers because of. a total lack of humor
or irony. From beginning to end. this
album is heavy, heavy stuff. I recently
ran across a revealing interview with
Jimmy Gnecco. He seemed quite preoc
cupied after the interviewer compared
him favorably to Jeff Buckley, as if that
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