Blitzen Trapper: All Across This Land

BLITZEN TRAPPER: ALL ACROSS THIS LAND (2015)

1) All Across This Land; 2) Rock And Roll (Was Made For You); 3) Mystery And Wonder; 4) Love Grow Cold; 5) Lonesome Angel; 6) Nights Were Made For Love; 7) Cadillac Road; 8) Let The Cards Fall; 9) Even If You Don't; 10) Across The River.

Stylistically, this is a return to the vibe of American Goldwing — unassuming retro-rock with emphasis on the «nobody should be able to tell that we are not The Eagles or at least The Doobie Brothers!» side of the business. But impression-wise, All Across This Land seems to be the better bet of the two, if only because it's got more muscle; and I mean that almost literally — the riffs, the rhythm section, the vocals all seem to be infected with a strange brawny vivaciousness. Not only that, but Earley and his mates intentionally lower the «intelligence shield» of the music and go as far as to offer a few really simplistic anthems to, uh, simplicity — ʽRock And Roll (Was Made For You)ʼ does sound about as dumb as its title.

And, for once, this is sort of a plus, because throughout their career, Blitzen Trapper have consis­tently failed to convince me that they were truly qualified for the status of a «subtle», «intellec­tual», «innovative» rock band. In reality, a few happy exceptions aside, Earley is a natural-born barroom rocker and little else — and All Across This Land is just that, an album of barroom rock with a Southern edge to it that "just wants to rock'n'roll", as they themselves acknowledge on ʽNights Were Made For Loveʼ. Meaning that it all sounds nice and tasteful and adequate, even if, as usual, few songs stick out.

General gripes involve the superfluous use of synthesizers — cheesy fake strings really do not belong on these kinds of songs — and, more importantly, the fact that Earley has not become any more distinctive as a singer than he used to be: his husky, earthy voice is good for this music, but he still has such minimal range and flexibility that if anybody said he was «singing with feeling», I would have to assume that «feeling» is an immanent, unchanging quality for this guy. This is, however, a grudge that can be held against the absolute majority of Blitzen Trapper's roots-rock idols from the Seventies, so why should we blame poor Eric?

Speaking of sticking out, I'd probably have to put in a good word for the title track, featuring the album's most distinctive and memorable set of riffs and passing off for, let's say, a second-rate Skynyrd; the already mentioned ʽNights Were Made For Loveʼ, a fast tempo pop-rocker stuffed with romantic nostalgia (like a sped-up variation on the Byrds' cover of ʽMy Back Pagesʼ or something like that); and the closing acoustic ballad ʽAcross The Riverʼ, which could have been so much better if sung by Neil Young, but... ah, hell.

Overall, I'm not giving this a thumbs up so as to avoid upholding the illusion that this is some sort of «creative rebound» or that you can find here something that cannot be found on a solid selec­tion of soft rock nuggets from the early-to-mid Seventies. But since the record clearly does not pretend to anything more than telling you, "We love our smelly roots, and what's wrong with that?", I'm not giving it a thumbs down, either. If you just can't get enough of those Southern vibes and need your fill replenished daily, All Across This Land is highly recommendable. If, however, you still vaguely remember Blitzen Trapper as that odd try-anything-once band that arrogantly mixed Brit-pop, roots-rock, and psychedelia on its debut album, that old band just ain't coming back. They made their choice and settled down on the farm. Oh well, I guess somebody at least has to settle down on the farm in these days of urban dictature.

Blitzen Trapper: VII

BLITZEN TRAPPER: VII (2013)

1) Feel The Chill; 2) Shine On; 3) Ever Loved Once; 4) Thirsty Man; 5) Valley Of Death; 6) Oregon Geography; 7) Neck Tatts, Cadillacs; 8) Earth (Fever Called Love); 9) Drive On Up; 10) Heart Attack; 11) Faces Of You; 12) Don't Be A Stranger.

Yes, we can: two years into the disappointing disaster of American Goldwing, Blitzen Trapper once again redo their image, and come out with an album that honestly sounds nothing like any of its predecessors — confirming our trust in Eric Earley as a musical force to be reckoned with, at least on a formal level. However, the change is somewhat bizarre. Without abandoning their roots-rock orientation, the band now crosses it with modernistic elements of hip-hop, trip-hop, and various electronic sub-styles. The result? Now they sound like lately-discovered children of Beck, which begs the question — are we finally past Eighties nostalgia, and advancing now into the age of Nineties nostalgia?

Seriously, at least half of these tracks might have been accepted as filler on Odelay or Midnite Vultures: swamp guitars crossed with dance beats, rapped vocals crossed with bluesy harmonicas, earthy country moods crossed with urban swagger. Most of the instrumentation remains live, and the album is hardly ever burdened with the stuffy digital overload of mainstream production, which is why the Beck analogy springs to mind before anything else — he, too, would always take time to bother that the songs sounded like advanced-updated variations on all their predeces­sors. The standard problem, however, remains: on individual levels, the tunes are not particularly memorable; not on a level, at least, where I could single out highlights and lowlights.

The overall sound is beyond complaint: even at his worst, Earley would always retain profes­sionalism, and now that he's found a new old way to fool around, the band seems re-energized from the slackness of American Goldwing. On ʽFeel The Chillʼ, stinging electric guitars, tasty slides, banjos, organs, harmonicas, and whistling synthesizers generate an impressive polyphony, over which Eric's rapped verse vocals and nursery-rhyme chorus resonate with irony and humor. There may be a bit too much happening here to successfully latch on to a distinct hook, but this feeling of overwhelmed ear canals is quite strong in itself.

Then the second song, ʽShine Onʼ, comes on, and it's like... uh, okay. The time signature is ever so slightly changed, but other than that, we have the same electric riffs, slides, organs, harmoni­cas, rapped vocals... the song hardly ever makes its own point. ʽEver Loved Onceʼ follows at a slower pace, in a more sentimental mood, but other than fewer synthesizers and more slides, the difference is not that big, either, and seems to become less and less as the song becomes louder and Eric's singing gradually slides towards the same rapping style.

There is no need whatsoever to mention any of the other tracks until we get to ʽHeart Attackʼ: the last three tracks somehow manage to dispense with the «retro-modernistic» sheen and simply plunge us into pure archaic retro — ʽHeart Attackʼ is like an old-fashioned glam-rocker crossed with country elements, sort of a cross between T. Rex and the Flying Burrito Brothers; ʽFaces Of Youʼ is a gloomy keyboard-dominated blues-rocker; and ʽDon't Be A Strangerʼ ends the album with a bit of friendly fast-tempo acoustic bluegrass (the Avett Brothers do this kind of stuff some­times, although this one does not quite have enough heart on its sleeve for Avett level).

Still, I give the album a light thumbs up. It is much less innovative than it seems to think it is, and the hooks take ages to sink in, if they ever do, and the «trendy-hopping on your country house front porch» vibe is already fully disclosed on the first couple of minutes — but at least they got some energy, some tact, some humor, and sorting out all these endless overdubs can also be fun, in a technical way at least. Rest assured, though, Blitzen Trapper VII is in no way poised to displace Beck from his properly guaranteed position of king of this particular mountain.

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Blitzen Trapper: American Goldwing

BLITZEN TRAPPER: AMERICAN GOLDWING (2011)

1) Might Find It Cheap; 2) Fletcher; 3) Love The Way You Walk Away; 4) Your Crying Eyes; 5) My Home Town; 6) Girl In A Coat; 7) American Goldwing; 8) Astronaut; 9) Taking It Easy Too Long; 10) Street Fighting Sun; 11) Stranger In A Strange Land.

The baby might sport pretty facial features and weigh the expected eight or nine pounds, but none of that would matter much if he were stillborn. An uncomfortable metaphor, perhaps, but fully ap­plicable to American Goldwing — the first officially bad album, according to my personal views, that Blitzen Trapper have produced. Bad, as in B-A-D-bad. Not tastelessly bad, not stupidly bad, not annoyingly bad. Just good old bad, that's all.

Once again, just like Furr, the whole venture is an Americana celebration, now flaunted on the front sleeve even more explicitly than it used to be. Once again, the tracks shuffle between acous­tic folk balladry, «roots-pop» à la early Wilco, some sludgy stoner proto-metal, and Seventies-style blues-rock. But more than ever before, the band simply embraces all the clichés and forma­lities of all these styles, instead of at least attempting to reinvent them, or at least marry them to one or two chord sequences that wouldn't be completely, thoroughly safe and predictable.

There is not a single song on here that would linger in my head for even a few minutes after the album is over — simply because there is not a single cell in my brain that would not already be occupied by one or more tenants, once any given song from American Goldwing starts politely knocking on its door. «Go away, ʽGirl In A Coatʼ!», they say, «we'd be happy to let you stay overnight, but the whole floor has already been rented by a Mr. Zimmerman». «Sorry, ʽTaking It Easy Too Longʼ, we just don't see the extra benefits from accommodating you that we have not already received by lending this space to Mr. Willie Nelson». And the list goes on.

The damnedest thing about all of this is, these melodies just sound way too lazy. For ʽMight Find It Cheapʼ, one of the guitarists just reuses a standard old hard rock riff, and the other one plays a slightly more complex, but equally weary ring of acoustic circles around it. The multi-guitar over­dubs on ʽFletcherʼ, including a clever move of combining slide guitar with a wah-wah sound, are totally wasted, since they are not structured as a coherent, independent melody. ʽLove The Way You Walk Awayʼ might as well be recorded by a Hank Williams Jr. or any single other by-the-bo­ok professional country hack to have come around in the past fifty years. ʽStreet Fighting Sunʼ, although its title bears non-incidental similarity to the Stones, actually rips off the old style of Mountain, without any changes for the better.

In the end, it simply drives me crazy. When these guys started out, they clearly had ambitions — there was never a time in which they were not utterly derivative, but they were tearing that house apart and rebuilding it anew. Now, with what limited critical success and recognition they might have acquired after the success of Wild Mountain Nation and Furr, they seem to have sunk into a sea of mildly ear-pleasing, but utterly forgettable and irrelevant genericity. Sure, Earley's voice is still moderately moving, and I can imagine some people still being interested in what he has to say lyrically (I myself could care less), but, in a way, it only makes American Goldwing ever so more irritating for me, because even the sensible, lyrical heart of this guy is no more different now from the sensible, lyrical hearts of a grand army of roots-rockers.

All I can hope for is eventually getting a confirmation that the album might simply have been rushed out too quickly after Destroyer, for whatever reason (lack of fresh cash flow?). Since it has now been almost two years since then, chances are that, perhaps, for their upcoming new pro­ject the Blitzens will finally try out something different, rather than just keep on wallowing in their «heartland» phase. But as of now, a disheartened thumbs down — I fail to see how any­body who doesn't think that all the music in the world should sound like James Taylor could ma­nage to be converted by these stale sounds.

Check "American Goldwing" (CD) on Amazon
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Blitzen Trapper: Destroyer Of The Void

BLITZEN TRAPPER: DESTROYER OF THE VOID (2010)

1) Destroyer Of The Void; 2) Laughing Lover; 3) Below The Hurricane; 4) The Man Who Would Speak True; 5) Love And Hate; 6) Heaven And Earth; 7) Dragon's Song; 8) The Tree; 9) Evening Star; 10) Lover Leave Me Drowning; 11) The Tailor; 12) Sadie.

With this album title, it almost looks as if Blitzen Trapper are really becoming interested in justi­fying the occasionally flashing tag of «New Ween For The 2000s» — reading like a parody on a self-important prog rock record. And indeed, look at the running times: the title track clocks in at 6:17, and the third one at 5:26 — of all their previous creations, only ʽConcrete Heavenʼ ran that long, but even that one was anything but a multi-part suite. Lord help us, Eric Earley has truly gone «progressive» on our asses. How does it feel?

Unfortunately, it doesn't feel at all. The attempt to branch out in terms of complexity simply ends up going nowhere. There is no purpose whatsoever to the title track other than telling us that the band can and will change keys midway through the song and then one more time, three quarters into the song. There is no interesting original theme to catch the proper attention; nothing ever goes beyond «sonically nice» as they drag out the old-fashioned synthesizers, the «epic» (but tech­nically simple) guitar solos, the choral backing vocals, the back-and-forth loud-to-quiet alter­nations. I've heard it all before and I don't want this. It's BOOOOORING!

Perhaps Earley realized it himself, because, no matter how ambitious the first third of the album tries to make itself, he just cannot help but eventually get carried away on the rootsy tide. ʽLaugh­ing Loverʼ still combines folksy upbeat pop with arena-rock riffs, psychedelic keyboard and vo­cal overdubs, and rhythmless harmony-based choruses, and ʽBelow The Hurricaneʼ is still long enough to envelop a two-part acoustic suite and an atmospheric «look at us making alien noises with our electronic toys» coda. But after that, Earley's «progressive drive» seems to either be­come exhausted, or satisfied, and the band turns back on its trusty Oregon Wilderness Machine.

For some reason, though, the Machine seems to be virtually infested with a colony of Dylan bac­teria this time around. Where Bob's influence on the band used to be obvious, but indirect, it now becomes an obsession — as if playing around with progressive complexities had somehow lower­ed Earley's defensive shields that used to protect him from resorting to direct plagiarism. ʽThe Man Who Would Speak Trueʼ plays on like a straightahead outtake from Selfportrait (yes!!), and ʽThe Treeʼ, in itself a lovely duet between Earley and fellow Oregonian Alela Diane, «bor­rows» quite a few chords and vocal moves, not to mention the overall atmosphere, directly from ʽMr. Tambourine Manʼ. Why? Damn me if I know.

Both of these things — the band's inability to become interesting when going in for extra com­plexity, and the inexplainable switch from Dylan influence to Dylan worship — are very disap­pointing, and the best tracks on this album, stuck in the middle (the heavy rock anthem ʽLove And Hateʼ, with a cool-bellowing distorted guitar opposed to an optimistic singalong chorus, and the dreamy/aching piano-and-strings ballad ʽHeaven And Earthʼ), are not jaw-dropping enough, either, to heal the wounds.

It is good to know that Destroyer Of The Void does not at least repeat, note-for-note, the formu­la of Furr, and that Earley is still busy searching, and that the arrangements are still in great taste, and that the band still has its honest Oregon heart. But alas — the album continues to suggest that Blitzen Trapper may be past their peak, and that Earley will never again manage to sustain the same level of original chemistry and overall quality that he did on his first three albums, and that, therefore, despite the best of our hopes, Blitzen Trapper share the usual genetic disease of most of the bands of the de­cade: thoroughly great for a one-night stand, thoroughly lacking what it takes to build up a long-term relationship. Too bad.

Check "Destroyer Of The Void" (CD) on Amazon
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Blitzen Trapper: Furr

BLITZEN TRAPPER: FURR (2008)

1) Sleepytime In The Western World; 2) Gold For Bread; 3) Furr; 4) God & Suicide; 5) Fire & Fast Bullets; 6) Sa­turday Nite; 7) Black River Killer; 8) Not Your Lover; 9) Love U; 10) War On Machines; 11) Stolen Shoes & A Ri­fle; 12) Echo / Always On / EZ Con; 13) Lady On The Water.

Big critical success here, but I am not all that impressed. Too rootsy! Not enough rock'n'roll! With the exception of one or two big-scale numbers, Furr is almost yer average camping album — and I am sure that few people are more qualified to write wildlife camping albums than a bunch of gifted sons of authentic Oregon trappers, but there is not enough inventiveness running through their veins to turn Furr into the next John Wesley Harding, or into one of those classic John Prine or Willie Nelson albums.

The title track is suitably «nice», but does not really do justice to Eric Earley's songwriting talents: just a basic country-pop acoustic shuffle with a derivative vocal melody. His warm vocal tone is always welcome, and the metaphorically Mowgli-like story in the lyrics is original enough, but truly and verily, many people sing these kinds of stories, few are capable of making them stick. Writing and recording a song like ʽFurrʼ, to me, seems a bit like winning in a local songwriting contest — the basic requirements are met, the clichés successfully worked around without losing an atmosphere of authenticity, the resulting grade is A+, and now off you go to continue with your dayjob at the local sheet metal factory.

That Blitzen Trapper are capable of more than just «making the grade» is clearly seen from the other single, ʽBlack River Killerʼ. Technically, it is just another acoustic folk tune, with a darker overtone this time, as the title already suggests, but this time, with a poppier hook in the chorus, and a moody «theremin-synth» line in between the verses to spice up the atmosphere. Of course, it is always easier to write a «sticky» dark song than a happy one (most of us are easier drawn to gruesome tales of serial killers than to simple stories of settling down to raise a family), but the darkness itself does not account for the special catchiness of the chorus or that particularly glo­omy synthesizer flourish.

Unfortunately, such flourishes are rare on Furr. With a pretty piano ballad like ʽNot Your Loverʼ, you could hope for at least a small bit of musical development throughout the album, yet there is none, and I am not just going to fall over for lines like "Cause I'm a moonwalkin' cowboy, dusty ridin' / And I don't know what's in store" if they are simply accompanied with a pretty (but whiny) voice and one finger on a piano. Lazy! Get out of bed!

Yes, there are a few upbeat pop tunes here, fattened with wailing electric guitar and other ingredi­ents, but after the opening successful punch of ʽSleepytime In The Western Worldʼ, with its organ leads and amateurishly eccentric guitar pyrotechnics, something like ʽSaturday Niteʼ, very similar in terms of upbeat-ness, is already nowhere near impressive. Nor is ʽWar On Machinesʼ, where they take the same stomp and change the time signature just a bit, to let in some barroom-rock atmosphere. But it's the same multitracked acoustic guitars all over again. ʽLove Uʼ, a slowly crawling «screamfest», is certainly different — but not very good, as far as I am concerned. (Eric is not a professional screamer at all).

So, if Blitzen Trapper in general are a good band, very occasionally being put through to a stra­ight line with God, Furr is the album that shows all of their limitations. Earley's strength is in his diversity: no matter if each individual song is not Beatle-quality, there are so many of them done in so many different ways that the cumulative effect is disarming the critic. Furr, on the other hand, is an attempt at creating something semi-conceptual, a 21st century look at the rudiments of two hundred years' time, and its tighter focus is at the same time its Achilles' heel. I have nothing against these guys employing roots-rock elements in their music — but I never asked them to go ahead and «reinvent» roots-rock as such for me. If I want rootsy, I just go and put me on some Robbie Robertson. A disappointing thumbs down here — which should not prevent neither you nor myself from easily enjoying ʽBlack River Killerʼ.

Check "Furr" (CD) on Amazon
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Blitzen Trapper: Wild Mountain Nation

BLITZEN TRAPPER: WILD MOUNTAIN NATION (2007)

1) Devil's A Go-Go; 2) Wild Mountain Nation; 3) Futures & Folly; 4) Miss Spiritual Tramp; 5) Woof & Warp Of The Quiet Giant's Hem; 6) Sci-Fi Kid; 7) Wild Mtn. Jam; 8) Hot Tip / Tough Cub; 9) The Green King Sings; 10) Summer Town; 11) Murder Babe; 12) Country Caravan; 13) Badger's Black Brigade.

Switching from the phantom label of «LidKerCow» to the very much real Sub Pop records, Blitz­en Trapper finally announce their existence to a whole wide world outside Oregon, with their loudest, braggard-est, and best produced record yet. Actually, a correction: they do not so much want to come out into the whole wide world as they want the whole wide world to come to them. "Come out from the world and into my arms / Like wind on the water with me / Come out from the city come out from the town / Build stone by stone a wild mountain home". This is the way the title track greets you, on a shallow warm wave of slide and electric guitars and a swaying an­themic rhythm that goes particularly well with a mug or two.

But Blitzen Trapper are not The Avett Brothers, and their wildland hearts never stay for too long in the wildlands: their real ambition stays the same — to capture all sorts of audiences by means of an intelligent synthesis. This is where the bearded hillbilly is supposed to peacefully coinhabit the same territory with the smug hipster, trading quite a few floating genes in the process. Why they have to do this, other than provide a reason for another rock band's existence, is another question... and it is up to each one of us to decide if we want to enrich our meaning of life by try­ing as hard as we can to find the answer.

At this point, a responsible reviewer would need to write something like «Me, I'm too busy just enjoying all the cool music to give a damn». The problem is — despite all of Earley's unquestio­nable talent, this music is just way too cool to be normally enjoyable. It begs for all sorts of ques­tions, and provokes confusion after confusion. The band's previous albums were, after all, a little less «over the top», but on Wild Mountain Nation they pull so many different rabbits out of the hat that, eventually, the magic show turns into a zoo.

ʽDevil's A-Go-Goʼ kicks off the proceedings with a three-minute multipart suite that includes elements of power pop, tricky Captain Beefheart-influenced avantgarde rhythms, Grateful Dead-style mind-melting psychedelia, and a noisy dissolution into chaos. Out of its ashes rises the title track — mind you, these guys that beg you to come to their wild mountains with them are the same ones that just infested your mind with a ridiculously incoherent concatenation, so I would think twice, personally, before «saddling up to ride». Then, after being lulled into a peaceful easy feeling with the colorful, bouncy folk-pop of ʽFutures & Follyʼ and its McCartney spirit, you are immediately given a gut-kick by the thick Panzer distortion of ʽMiss Spiritual Trampʼ — a hard-rocking sound through which, however, they still seep through occasional slide guitars and har­mo­nicas, just to place the «rootsy-tootsy» seal on everything, for protection.

Actually, it all sounds great. The soft songs lull and pacify, the loud songs invite the air guitar, and the avantgarde / experimental bits and pieces are a fine glue to keep the soft and loud songs together. It all sounds so great that you do not even immediately notice the utter silliness of some­thing like ʽWoof & Warp Of The Quiet Giant's Hemʼ — even if, in reality, it is just a repetitive, off-yer-head carnival stomp where you are supposed to jump around the fire and shout «yeah yeah yeah» to spook off a bloodthirsty demon or something. It simply falls in place as part of that crazy kaleidoscope: a bit of its own craziness rubs off on everything else.

But you know what? I would rather have preferred it all with a different sequencing. For instance, place all the quiet acoustic songs on one side and all the wild romps on the other. Because I feel that the quiet songs are actually the stronger ones, reflecting a juicier, brighter side of Earley's heart than his attempts to make himself feel at home with the loud rock scene. ʽSummer Townʼ, in particular, is a beautiful ballad, all minimalistic acoustic lines, flutes, and soft psychedelic overdubs, one of those tunes where you cannot decide whether it is melancholy or tenderness that rules the scene, and this indecision keeps sucking you in. And my personal fav is ʽCountry Cara­vanʼ, one of those tunes where you know that all that separates this rather ordinary country-pop tune from greatness is the lack of a big fat friendly electric guitar solo, and then it finally comes and you're all like, "I knew it! Didn't I?"...

Yet with all this mixing going on, neither the soft nor the hard songs help out each other. It is one thing to have yourself a White Album, one that can allow itself to disregard sequencing because each number is so strong on its own that it creates a special link to its context in your mind regar­dless of whether that link was originally planned or not. Eric Earley, on the other hand, is no J. P. Len­non-McCartney, and these songs are not highly memorable — they are of the «make you feel so good while they're on» kind rather than the «forever and ever you'll stay in my heart» kind. And Wild Mountain Nation's eclectic mix keeps confusing me. On the good side of things, it means that I will definitely be coming back here, to keep checking on the potential greatness I have missed; but on the bad side of things, the overall reaction is still a large question mark, and I wouldn't want to be coming back without some sort of guarantee that I will not be wasting my time. Anyway, thumbs up for the ongoing mystery of Blitzen Trapper while it is still a mystery.

Check "Wild Mountain Nation" (CD) on Amazon
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Blitzen Trapper: Field Rexx

BLITZEN TRAPPER: FIELD REXX (2004)

1) James & Larry Earley; 2) Lux & Royal Shopper; 3) Love I Exclaim; 4) Summer Twin; 5) Cold Gold Dia­mond; 6) Concrete Heaven; 7) 40 Stripes; 8) Asleep For Days; 9) Dreamers & Giants; 10) Turkey In The Straw; 11) Dirty Pearls; 12) Leopard's Will To Live; 13) Country Rain; 14) Moving Minors Over County Lines; 15) Love.

The band's second album had an extremely limited budget, making the sound suffer: a little mud­dier and duller, but still, this is hardly «lo-fi»: wherever they recorded it, they made the best of whatever they had at their disposition. In fact, they even invented a certain pretext to justify the shoddier standards — parts of the album are introduced with snippets of archival recordings by a certain James Earley (could he be Eric's father?), singing bits of old hillbilly tunes. So that almost makes it into genuine «Field Rexx» indeed. In any case, whatever they recorded will inevitably sound much better than archive field tapes. Genius idea, no?

The good news is that the songwriting has not been impaired at all by financial troubles. On the contrary, Eric Earley is slowly, but steadily growing into a Renaissance man of pop music, sprea­ding his nets far and wide and always successfully. Furthermore, Earley steadily continues to link his persona to that of Jeff Tweedy's: soulful and literate roots-rocker with an experimental drive and vast ambitions. If that already sounds awful, do not despair: the ambitions are not vast eno­ugh to prevent the man from abandoning archaic concepts like melody, harmony, rhythm, or even «rock and roll». On the contrary, the record is even more accessible than the first one.

ʽLux & Royal Shopperʼ, for example, takes a simple, effective garage riff and turns it into the ba­sis for a small exploration that first takes us to the country (with a little backyard harmonica in­terlude), then into outer space, with classic psychedelic sound effects, treated guitars, and multi­ple head-warping overdubs. The other end of the record is symmetrically bookmarked with ʽMo­ving Minors Over County Linesʼ, the album's only other genuine «rocker», albeit with a country-pop whiff all the same — think Mike Nesmith or something in that vein.

In between we have some old-school pop-rock (ʽCold Gold Diamondʼ; ʽAsleep For Daysʼ, with the catchiest vocal melody on the album, wisely reproduced note-for-note in the solo in the good old Beatles tradition); some meditative country balladry with lazy harmonica and sentimental, but intelligent vocals (ʽConcrete Heavenʼ — with a bigger-than-ever nod to Tweedy); some banjo plunking tied to a well-imitated Southern accent (ʽDirty Pearlsʼ); a hipness-oozing novelty indie-pop number that would not be out of place on a Flaming Lips record (ʽLeopard's Will To Liveʼ); and some post-Woody Guthrie acoustic folk thrown in for good measure (ʽCountry Rainʼ). None of these songs are masterpieces on their own, but all of them are growers, and, if nothing else, al­most each one boasts an ear-catching sonic combination of some sorts. On ʽCountry Rainʼ, for in­stance, you do not just get an acoustic guitar and a fiddle, but a Jew's harp as well plinking and plunking in the background. It needn't be there, but if it weren't there, attention would not be drawn to the song's melody nearly as much. Who wants to simply hear an acoustic guitar and a fiddle? Bring on the Jew's harp — and, for that matter, where is the «electric jug»?..

Another pair of tracks that bookmark the album is ʽLove I Exclaim!ʼ and its reprise, performed in a style that I could only define as «homely-funky», or, perhaps, as a deconstructed version of trip-hop performed with actual instruments, rather than pre-programmed. It's all novel, yet it provides the album with a «mutant anthem», a song that establishes an idealistic agenda and, by the way, prevents me from being able to recognize this band as «The Ween of the 2000's», as I have seen a few people call it. It took the real Ween more than ten years before they started letting us in on some of what was going on behind the Boognish mask; Eric Earley had no problem with that right from the start.

Hence, another thumbs up. The diversity of the styles and approaches here compensates for the re­lative lack of hard-rocking material (especially as compared to the self-titled debut): most pro­ba­bly, Field Rexx should be best enjoyed when «lazing on a Sunday afternoon in the summer­time», to quote the classics, but all it takes is to properly synchronize it with one of those moods, and you will be taking a trip to Portland in no time.

Blitzen Trapper: Blitzen Trapper

BLITZEN TRAPPER: BLITZEN TRAPPER (2003)

1) The All-Girl Team; 2) Cunning Revolution; 3) Appletrees; 4) Reno; 5) Whiskey Kisser; 6) Triggafinga; 7) Ansel And Emily Desader; 8) Cracker Went Down; 9) Christmas Is Coming Soon; 10) Donkie Boy; 11) Texaco.

Blitzen Trapper did not really «blitzen» on the pop scene radar until 2007's Wild Mountain Na­ti­on; by that time, however, they were already active for more than five years on the local scene of Portland, Oregon, and had two self-recorded and self-distributed albums on an unknown indie label called «Lidkercow Ltd.» (which, I suspect, was run by the band themselves in a basement or something — no other releases but their own on it). Coincidentally, at least one of them, the self-titled debut, happens to be one of their very best albums, so, if you like Furr, it is your patriotic duty to locate Mr. Lidkercow, presumably living on Pirate Bay Avenue, and demand that he sur­render the goods, so that the glory of the state of Oregon may go undiminished.

The music of Blitzen Trapper is largely the product of bandleader Eric Earley, who also, not sur­prisingly, sings and plays guitar and the occasional keyboards. Initially, one might see Eric as a sort of wannabe Jeff Tweedy, and one might even be right: Blitzen Trapper has all the trade­marks of «intellectualized alt-country», although its debts to «alt-rock» are heavier than those of early Wilco records. However, Earley generally takes stuff less seriously than Tweedy — where even the earliest Wilco records already yield hints that these guys may wanna rule the world, Earley's creations are somewhat less accessible, somewhat more on the «obscurely hip» side.

The best news in town, however, is that Earley comes across as an accomplished songwriter. There is nothing particularly mind-blowing about these songs — but they are good songs with interesting melodies, whe­ther they are governed by tough riffage or moody slide guitars, and al­so regardless of whose territory the band intrudes upon: ʽThe All-Girl Teamʼ, opening the album, for instance, could easily be mistaken for a long-lost Blur song — it has all the required ingredients, apart from the lack of a clearly discernible Bri­tish accent: traditionally put together, but original riffs, catchy chorus, angry young man vocal delivery that occasionally spills into heart-warming poppy vocal modulations, and properly sarcastic lyrics ("I'm in charge of the all-girl team!").

But it isn't particularly typical of the album. Soon afterwards, it takes a sharp turn in a roots-ro­ck­ier direction; yet the songs are almost always positioned at some sort of genre crossroads. ʽCun­ning Revolutionʼ, for instance, alternates between mystically-oriented guitar jangle and a hard-rocking bluesier section. ʽAppletreesʼ, with its multi-tracked mind-warping vocals and melodic guitar phrasing loaded with special tones and effects, is dance-style psychedelia. ʽRenoʼ is an acou­­stic shuffle with some impressive slide guitar work that weaves a subtly dark-magical atmo­sphere. ʽWhiskey Kisserʼ is an uptempo «barroom rocker» with plenty of slide guitar as well, more in the «smart» department than in the «kick-ass» one, but still intriguing. And that's just the first five songs — there is definitely more.

Even if none of the melodies strike me personally as «phenomenal», to the point of wanting to take a particular riff or slide guitar flourish and frame it on the wall next to bits and pieces of To­ny Iommi or George Harrison, Earley and pals make the best they can of them. The album was recorded properly in a proper studio (which, according to their own accounts, nearly ruined them financially, but I'd say it was worth it), and the production is perfect — every note that needs to be accentuated is accentuated, every instrument that is supposed to play a larger role than the others gets to play that role. It is perfectly possible that, had a different band written and recorded the album, I would not be struck by the sweetness of the psychedelia of ʽAppletreesʼ, or by the brutality of the fuzz assault of ʽDonkey Boyʼ, or by the plaintive sentimental atmosphere of ʽAn­sel And Emily Desaderʼ (which, by the way, betrays a very strong Ray Davies influence).

I do not know, and cannot possibly know, the exact number of albums like this recorded over the last decades — there may be hundreds of them, really, with the level of their notoriety depending exclusively on the luck factor — but retro-oriented bands that do not stimulate their listeners into asking the question «why do I actually need to listen to this?» are few, and I would say that Eric Earley has enough talent to conveniently fall into that minority. Here be a nicely resonant, intel­lectually comfortable alt-hard-roots-psych-record for us all; thumbs up, no questions asked.