American Songwriter » Singer/Songwriter

Leiber and Stoller: Second Generation Standards

Paul Zollo — Tue, 23 Aug 2011 12:00:11 +0000

Hollywood. Sunset Boulevard. A suite of offices appointed with large, brightly colored folk-art paintings of blues heroes Muddy Waters, Robert Johnson and Willie Dixon. It's the headquarters of the legendary songwriting duo Leiber & Stoller, the team who created many of the first and most famous blueprints for rock and roll-songs such as "Hound Dog," "Jailhouse Rock" and "Kansas City"-by building a bridge from the past (the blues) to the future (rock and roll).

This article was originally published in American Songwriter in 2007.

Hollywood. Sunset Boulevard. A suite of offices appointed with large, brightly colored folk-art paintings of blues heroes Muddy Waters, Robert Johnson and Willie Dixon. It's the headquarters of the legendary songwriting duo Leiber & Stoller, the team who created many of the first and most famous blueprints for rock and roll songs such as "Hound Dog," "Jailhouse Rock" and "Kansas City" -- by building a bridge from the past (the blues) to the future (rock and roll).

Talking today, in 2006, to Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller is an unparalleled experience for many reasons, not the least of which is that there are so many unlikely components to their story. Like any meeting with legendary songwriters, there is the surreal recognition that their songs are infinite and unbound, yet the songwriters are quite finite and human even, sitting here in the same room-bound by time. Two Jewish boys from L.A. who got famous for writing in a black genre, they are now American icons who are integral facets in the history of rock and roll. Yet with a few exceptions, they've remained silent about the 56 years of their celebrated collaboration and have never really participated in their history as it's been written.

Their feelings about their now-mythic songs are bittersweet-often more bitter than sweet. And almost every one of the published stories which purport to get their history right, are wrong, including those surrounding the writing and recording of their most famous songs, like "Hound Dog" and "Jailhouse Rock" (both recorded by Elvis), "Kansas City" (recorded by The Beatles among many others) and "Stand By Me" (recorded by Ben E. King originally and later John Lennon). The Beatles also cut two other Leiber & Stoller's songs on their first demo, "Searchin'" and "Three Cool Cats."

It is true though, that-as the story goes-Stoller didn't like the idea of writing songs with Leiber when they met in 1950. It's not true however-as has been reported-that he said he didn't like songs. What he said he didn't like were popular songs; he preferred jazz. But when he realized that the young Jerome Leiber had written not lyrics for pop songs but blues, a bridge was built between them that still stands to this day. It's a bridge built on the blues.

Because their most famous songs came fast and easy to them, "hot off the griddle," as Leiber puts it, they don't tend to value them to the extent that they value songs like "Is That All There Is?" an existential theatrical ballad made famous by Peggy Lee. To this day, Leiber, the lyricist, and Stoller, the melodist, yearn to be known as more than writers of simple rock and roll. When I lingered on the writing of "Jailhouse Rock," for example, Leiber looked me squarely in the eyes and said, "Why are you spending so much time on ‘Jailhouse Rock'? Is it that important?" Well, yes. It is. Though they've written some of the most lasting popular songs ever, they didn't think any of them would last. As soon as they were off the charts, they felt they would vanish.

Leiber & Stoller have long felt their famous rock and roll songs were kids' stuff, and they wanted to write songs for adults-deeper, more musically and lyrically complex songs of which there exists an abundance in their mythical "vault." But except for "Is That All These Is?" it's their simple, easy songs that have connected them timelessly to popular culture. Out of the universe of albums that have been recorded containing their songs, the one that they speak of with the greatest pride is Peggy Lee Sings Leiber & Stoller, a collection of their "adult songs" sung by the legendary vocalist.

And while you might assume any songwriter would be forever proud to have had a song recorded by Elvis or The Beatles, they never liked The King's rendition of "Hound Dog," nor did they like The Beatles' recording of "Kansas City" (for reasons explained in the following). They only wrote "Jailhouse Rock" because the movie's producer refused to let them out of their hotel room until they came up with some songs. "Hound Dog" was written on the fly, and not for Elvis but for Big Mama Thornton. From the second Jerry uttered its title he didn't think it was sufficiently explicit, and still doesn't feel it is as biting as he wanted-nor does he see much value in other legendary titles he's created, such as "Jailhouse Rock" or "Spanish Harlem." Elvis's rendition of "Hound Dog"-perhaps the most famous recording ever of one of their songs-doesn't even use the right lyrics. Instead it copies improbable lyrics written for the song by Freddie Bell, who introduced the whole notion of a rabbit to the song, a notion that Leiber & Stoller regard as nonsense.

They were the first independent record producers to be officially designated as producers-"producer" being a title they invented themselves (they wanted "director"). But they started producing records only in self-defense, to ensure that their songs wouldn't be wrecked when translated to records. "We don't write songs," Leiber famously has said. "We write records."

Even with their most famous non-rock creation, "Is That All There Is?" they are forever dismayed by Peggy Lee's insistence on changing one word, an alteration-in their opinion-which dilutes the entire point of the song.

To this day, they often finish each other's sentences though their memories frequently clash. "Our relationship is the longest running single argument in the entertainment business," Jerry says, only half-joking.

But the connection that led them to write words and music like one person over the decades, even when they wrote them apart (they separately wrote the words and music to the refrain of "Is That All There Is?" yet then discovered that both parts fit perfectly), remains powerful, and as often as they argue, they laugh. And it's clear that there are few people they'd rather spend time with than each other.

John Denver: The Fifth Song He Wrote Was A Hit

Deborah Evans Price — Fri, 20 Aug 2010 13:00:06 +0000

This article originally appeared in American Songwriter magazine in July 1992. Many songwriters have to write hundreds of songs before they pen a great one. With John Denver it only took five. The fifth song that he wrote was "Leaving on a Jet Plane," a tune that became a number one hit for Peter, Paul and Mary in 1969 and launched the career of one of popular music's most highly acclaimed songwriters. Penning such mega-hits as "Take Me Home, Country Roads," "Rocky Mountain High," "Sunshine On My Shoulders," "Annie's Song," "Thank God I'm A Country Boy," "Calypso" and others. Denver's songwriting defined a decade of popular music. He has an incredible sales record, having 14 gold and 8 platinum albums to his credit in the United States alone. His Greatest Hits lp is still one of the largest selling albums in the history of RCA Records, with world-wide sales of over 10 million copies. Denver currently records for his own label, Windstar, distributed by American Gramophone Records. A love of music and the environment, and the desire to communicate those passions to other people led Henry John Deutschendorf, the son of an Air Force officer, to write his first song at age 13. "I think it's natural for anyone who starts to play a musical instrument to start pretty soon experimenting with melodies of their own," Denver says. "I was about 12 when I started playing the guitar. I think the first song I wrote was when I was about 13. It was at a Presbyterian Church Camp in Arizona. One day I went for a walk up the Colorado River and the song I wrote was called "Sittin' On The Banks of a Lazy Little Stream." It's interesting to me that from the very beginning nature was a big part of how I tried to communicate or articulate myself." Denver says it was about a year before he attempted a second song and then he just wrote sporadically over the next few years. "The fourth song I wrote was called "For Baby (For Bobbie)," he recalls. "It was written for a girl. And the next song I wrote was "Leaving on a Jet Plane." That's about the fifth song I ever wrote." Denver's first big break as a singer also led to his first and only publishing association. He auditioned and won a spot as lead singer for the popular Chad Mitchell Trio over 250 other young hopefuls. Denver said he had never thought much about signing a publishing agreement, pitching songs or any of that. He says things began quite simply when he sand a song he had written for Milt Akum who headed Cherry Lane Music. "He said it was good enough for the Trio and offered to be my publisher," Denver recalls. "And he has been ever since." He continues, "I had never thought about signing with a publisher. I never thought about the business end of it. When it got to a point where a song of mine was going to be recorded then it was appropriate to have a publisher, it was much smarter to have a publisher who knew the business and who could take care of me in an area where I have no talent or ability or knowledge than to try to do it myself. "I feel very lucky to have been able to sign with a very able, wise and honest man. And I underline honest because there are a lot of crooks out there that will make every deal they can, hoping to sign some young kid who has the greatest song in the world, make a fortune and pay the kid as little as possible. Unfortunately, that goes on out there. But you trust your heart and look for a guy who can do the things you can't do." Denver says Akum has built Cherry Lane into one of the best publishing companies in the world and he has always been very happy with his affiliation with them. After more than 20 years with Cherry Lane, Denver says Akum approached him about starting a new company. "We have now established a new company called Cherry Mountain Music of which we share ownership," John explains. "It was Milt's idea and his offer. He said ‘John it's appropriate you get a part of the business end of it too'." When asked if he had a specific method or approach to writing songs, Denver replies that he is a very unstructured writer. "I don't sit down every day and try to write a song. For some people, it's like a job and that's what they do. They go in and try to write a song," he says. "For me it quite often begins with a phrase like ‘leaving on a jet plane' or ‘follow me' or ‘back home again' or ‘sunshine on my shoulders'. "What'll happen there'll be a phrase or line that I've come up with. When I'm driving I'll start writing the song in my head. Then when I get to a guitar, I'll sit and play it on the guitar until the rest of the song comes. Some songs come very quickly. I wrote "Annie's Song" in 10 minutes one day on a ski lift - that's how I know it was 10 minutes. Then other songs like "Rocky Mountain High" took about six or seven months to write." Denver says he believes a songwriter instinctively knows when a song is finished and says he very rarely rewrites a song once he's finished it. "You take whatever time it takes and when it's done, it's done," Denver says. "I'm one of those that feels the song has a life of its own and in my songwriting I want whatever comes through me to be true to the song. I try to be true to the song, true to the music." Denver says he collaborates occasionally, but for the most part prefers to write on his own. He cites Joe Henry as the only other songwriter he's collaborated with to a great extent. "If I get stuck lyrically, he's the person I call," Denver says then adds, "I've never gotten stuck musically." "Windsong" is one of the tunes Denver and Henry wrote together. "We sat up one night and talked about the wind," Denver recalls. "Joe and I wanted to write a song about the wind and we talked and talked. I put out all these ideas and pictures I had in my head and he took notes. He stayed at my house that night and the next morning I got up and he had gone. The song was written out on a piece of paper on the kitchen table. So then the song was there and that gave birth to the music." Even though he had hits and seemed to master the craft of songwriting at an early age, Denver says he's continually improved upon his craft and feels his writing has changed over the years. "It's more mature," he states. "It comes out of being able to look more honestly at the feelings, look a little deeper inside, articulate things in a broader way." Though his situation and his perspective on some topics may have changed since he wrote them, Denver says when he hears one of his songs, it always takes him back to the point of reference and feeling from which it was written. "Annie's Song" is a great example," he says leaning forward in his seat and smiling. "What the song makes me feel is what I felt when I wrote the song, not all the other stuff. It's a great love song and what it is about is being in love. That's what it makes me think about regardless what happened between me and Annie [Denver's ex-wife]. "When I sing "Annie's Song" and when I hear it, it's about being in love and that's what I think about. I don't think about being in hate or divorce, and see that's why it's such a good song because it brings that out of you. It opens up that inside of you regardless. There was a time when I had a pretty hard shell around my heard in regard to Annie, but I could still sing that song because the song made me think and feel being in love." The thing that caught the listener's ears in the 60s and continues to be Denver's greatest asset as a songwriter is his ability to strike an emotional chord in his audience through simple, direct, clearly expressed feelings brought to life with vivid imagery. In songs as diverse as "Rocky Mountain High," "Calypso" and "Grandma's Feather Bed," Denver not only tells the listener what he's feeling, he takes them to that place with him. A prime example is the short, soaring "The Eagle and The Hawk." As Denver sings "I am the Eagle, I live in high country in rocky though they were swooping and soaring from the peaks. The ability to move people with music is something that Denver is not sure can be taught through seminars and workshops. "I think you can be taught the craft, the technical ability, the rhyme and meter," he says. "You can be taught all that...but I think songwriting is the ability to articulate in a musical way and lyrical way an experience, a feeling, a memory, a vision in such a way that someone else can hear that lyric or listen to that piece of music and have it mean something to them. "I think that's a gift and I don't know that you can learn how to do that. I think you can learn how to more clearly articulate yourself, you can learn how to better communicate your ideas or feelings, but to really be able to sit down and do that is a gift." His advice to others who have that gift and are learning to share it is simple. "Don't try too hard. Don't copy anybody," he states. "Just let it come through you."

Bubba An Underlying Current In Steve Earle’s Songs (1989)

Steve Morley — Thu, 01 Jul 2010 14:00:29 +0000

The following article originally appeared in the March/April 1989 edition of American Songwriter. Click here to purchase this issue. I got a job but it ain't nearly enough A twenty thousand dollar pickup truck Belongs to me and the bank and some funny talkin' man from Iran I left the service, got a G.I. loan I got married, bought myself a home Now I hang around this one-horse town and do the best that I can. -from "Good Ol' Boy (Getting' Tough)" With these words, Bubba was born. More correctly, it was with these words that Bubba was consciously given an identity. He's existed for generations in small towns where there's little to do but "drive down to the lake and turn back around." Bubba may not be worldly, but he isn't stupid, and it's important to Steve Earle for people to realize that. Why should Steve care? Because Bubba's a close buddy of his. He's taken the heat for the controversial singer/songwriter more than once, when lines like "some funny talkin' man from Iran," and "you can't get far on thirty-seven dollars and a Jap guitar," resulted in accusations of bigotry. "Giving Bubba a name and a face," Earle explains, "started with me having to defend charges of jingoism, because of songs I've written. If you write in the first person, like I do, you have to develop characters. Otherwise the songs become very one-dimensional." The fact that critical listeners hurled such accusations at Earle is a testament to the realism of his characters. Speaking in the first person, Steve-as-Bubba was so convincing that Steve appeared to be his characters rather than simply being their mouthpiece. Earle is the first to admit that Bubba's opinions are somewhat uninformed, but he prefers not to settle for an easy stereotype when it comes to describing Bubba and his ilk. "When Northerners call us rednecks," he says, "I get irritated. People make quick stereotypes about other people without understanding why they think the way they do. Writing conversationally, I have to know what sounds right for a given character. Bubba was born out of trying to get inside a character and understand why they make the statements they make," says Earle. Earle perhaps described Bubba best in an interview for Music Row magazine, while discussing the character's importance as a songwriting tool. "Bubba works for a living. His world is thirty minutes of TV news that he watches when he's very tired, and he doesn't understand why everything that's happening is happening to him. So he lashes out at the first thing that's convenient. Bubba's probably a little prejudiced and narrow-minded about some things, but not everybody has time to drink wine and talk about politics," Earle says in defense of Bubba's limited perceptions. While Steve has proven his ability to breathe life into his characters on the page, they didn't just appear from up a nowhere road. They came in part from Earle's astute observation of people he's known. If he seems defensive about Bubba's short-comings, it isn't solely to protect the products of his imagination. It's also out of respect for the real individuals who have contributed significant portions to the rural hero of exit zero. While Steve's well-worn hitching thumb pointed him toward a lot of characters in his time, Bubba's most significant influences nonetheless come from the stomping grounds of Earle's youth --Jacksonville, Texas. "If Bubba's from anywhere, he's from Jacksonville, a deep South culture," Earle affirms. "Jacksonville has a population of about 10,000 --too small for anything to happen, but just big enough to hold you all your life," says Earle, summing up one of the major themes in his writing. "The people my dad grew up with there [in Jacksonville] are rednecks, but they're real smart. You can't imagine what they'd be like if they'd been born in a bigger town." One man Earle acknowledges as "a big part of Bubba" is his father's friend, Bill Willis. "He was a pipeliner, and he always managed to get laid off three days before deer hunting season. My dad used to say Bill Willis was his hero. Bill had a lot of control over his life. He had a little land, raised a few cattle, always had a nice truck...he made ends meet without a real job. "He and my dad hunted in a place south of Jacksonville called The Big Thicket. It was dense, like a rain forest. There were a lot of great storytellers out there, like Body George," Steve recalls. "He came from a poor, poor family --literally lived in a shack. By the time I was old enough to hunt, he was too old, so he just sat around and lied a lot. He used to swear there was a man in The Big Thicket that lived in the pine tops and ambushed deer with a knife. Later, when I got involved in folk music, I saw the parallels to that kind of storytelling. "That's the kind of storytelling I'm best at --straight-ahead narrative. It was much easier to write "Copperhead Road" than "My Old Friend the Blues," Steve admits, affirming the seemingly universal writer's fear of revealing too much of one's own self. It wasn't just a reluctance to lay open his own soul that gave Earle difficulty during his fledgling days as a songwriter --it was also the realization that "being middle class, I didn't have a damn thing to say." Taking his cue from Bob Dylan, who hid his own background behind an enigmatic persona patterned after folk legend Woody Guthrie, Earle set out to create an alter-ego of sorts. "In order to have something to write about, I'm guilty of intentionally creating some of the tension in my life," Earle says candidly. "My accent was picked up from hitchhiking around the South." With a knapsack full of experiences and potential characters derived from his travels--both past and present--Earle need not dig into his personal life for song ideas unless he wants to, as he did on the seemingly autobiographical "Hillbilly Highway" and "Guitar Town." "Highway" traces three generations and tells the story of how his father escaped what had formerly been his family's small-town legacy, giving Steve a shot at a formal education. Ironically, Steve turned it down in an attempt to de-program his middle-class mentality, preferring to get his education on the road. Not surprising, coming from a man whose strongest personal statement to date might well be contained in "I Ain't Ever Satisfied." "That song was written for medicinal purposes," says Earle in typically dry fashion. "I had written songs about other people for Exit 0, but it was missing me, so I felt I had to do that." Earle's presence in "Satisfied" however, doesn't make itself conspicuous --the song could easily be a typical Earle character study, suggesting that there's a bit of Steve Earle in most, if not all, the individuals which people his detailed, real-life lyrics. While it's unmistakable Bubba whose newfound freedom in "The Week Of Living Dangerously" begins with him tossing his kid's car seat in a nearby dumpster, it isn't that big a stretch to imagine a workaday-filled Earle getting a similar wild hair. In "Angry Young Man," only the final verse--in which the son's protagonist escapes the small town syndrome--separates Steve from Bubba. Meanwhile, more tender songs like "I Love You Too Much" and "You Belong To Me" might lead the listener to assume it couldn't be hard-headed Bubba. However, Earle insists that "the whole idea of Bubba is that he does have a sensitive side. He was tough, and had football pals, but he was different when he was with me. I really do treat him like someone I know. Bubba can talk to me about things he can't talk to anyone else about. That's why he hangs out with me. "He probably is more sensitive than he admits. In that sense, there isn't that much difference between us. I'm just more open about it." But whether it's fact or fiction or a combination of the two, Earle's songs are distinguished by a sense of disciplined craftsmanship that one might not expect from a writer with Earle's unconventional tendencies. "I don't take anything away from craftsmanship," Earle says. "Nashville is the last Tin Pan Alley. I encourage writers to learn from it, but also to find a way not to get caught up in it, to find their own thing. "My songs," Steve continues, "are more powerful and concise because I learned craftsmanship." While Earle's pen is as powerful as ever on his latest Uni LP, Copperhead Road, he admits that he "wasn't as conscious of Bubba on this album. The characters on Copperhead Road aren't as everyday. But Bubba's still alive. John Lee Pettimore (the pot-dealing Vietnam vet who kicks off the disc) is a version of Bubba. "Like Bubba on bad speed," Earle says with a slightly dark chuckle. Indeed, all of Earle's characters are related in one way or another, through their similarities to Earle himself and well as in the traits that he admires in them. "I'd rather be like them--this is, the real people they're based on--than like any archetypical intellectual I can think of," Earle admits. "They're still having to deal with stuff on a day-to-day basis, living in the real world. I have a lot of respect for that."

MICKEY NEWBURY: Write Heart Songs, Not Clever Hooks

Vernell Hackett — Fri, 23 Apr 2010 12:12:51 +0000

This article originally appeared in the January/February 1989 issue of American Songwriter. The only thing better than hearing a great Mickey Newbury song is hearing Mickey Newbury sing his great songs in a live performance. Now if that statement sounds biased, let me assure you it is, but let me also assure you I am not the only person who would ever make such a statement. Newbury is a writer of classic material - "She Even Woke Me Up To Say Goodbye," "San Francisco Mabel Joy," "Funny Familiar Forgotten Feelings," "American Trilogy," "Sweet Memories" - but he also possesses a voice that is second to none. Newbury is not a singer/songwriter in the sense that he records two albums a year of self-penned material and hits the road to perform for his fans. His most recent tour was in support of an album on the newly established Airborne label in Nashville, for which he re-recorded several of the above mentioned songs that have been recorded by other artists as well as songs he had previously recorded, including "Cortelia Clark," "Wish I Was A Willow Tree," and "Lovers." The album was recorded with violinist Marie Rhines, who accompanied Newbury on his synthesizerized guitar. It's an interesting combination - almost as interesting as talking Newbury about songwriting. "I got a call from a famous writer while I've been in town, now I'm not gonna call his name, but he called to congratulate me on the new album," Newbury starts off our conversation. "Then he asks me how the hell I'm still writing after all these years. I asked him why he doesn't write and he said he didn't have anything to write about anymore." Newbury pauses, as he must have when he heard that statement from a fellow songwriter, then continues. "I asked him if he'd ever given any thought to writing a song about not having anything to write about? Just sit down and say he has nothing to say." Newbury explains that he writes just the way he suggested to his songwriter friend - when he sits down to write, he writes what is on his mind. "The reason none of my songs have hook lines is ‘cause I don't start with any story or hook line. If I wake up and feel like writing and the sun is shining, I might start off with ‘...I woke up this morning and the sun is shining...' or ‘...I woke up this morning and it was raining...' Seldom does that wind up being the lead line, but it creates a thread that goes through the song and somewhere down the line the sounds starts. "It's an old way of writing and I really believe in it because it's the only way you can get into an unconscious flow. If you ever want to study a song and see if it's inspired, take the lines and switch them around and see if they still have content and still make sense." Newbury illustrates with "Sweet Memories" - "My world is like a river, as dark as it is deep...night after night the past slips in, and gathers all my sleep...my days are just an endless stream, of emptiness to me...filled only by the fleeting moments of the memories.' Now take those line and switch them around. " ‘My days are just an endless stream, of emptiness to me...filled only by the fleeting moments of the memories...my world is like a river, as dark as it is deep...night after night the past slips in, and gathers all my sleep'." Newbury contends that the unconscious mind is what writes lines like those, as opposed to the conscious mind, which comes up with the hook lines and clever innuendoes. "The unconscious mind, which retains 100% of its input, as opposed to the conscious mind, which retains only 15% of its input, is crazy as hell," he says. "I loved that kind of writing...'cause you never know what's gonna come out. Free flowing is the way to go (for writing a song)...but you can't take credit for it and your ego doesn't get stroked when you write like that. But it's the source of the greater art if you can tap into it and are able to tap into it when you need it, you do it when you need it and then when you don't need it, you are on another level." In trying to tell the young songwriter how to tap into this source of adrenalin, Newbury espouses the theory that you are born a songwriter, not made one. "The first thing I would tell you is that you don't learn to be a songwriter, you are a songwriter," he emphasizes. "You must place the emphasis on the need to create. Don't worry about whether it's commercial or not, because if you work long enough and really try to write what is inside of you, eventually you'll write the things that will have commercial acceptance and earn you a living. If you start to write from the conscious brain, you'll be writing formula crap that's gonna be something that might make you money for a short term, but it will destroy your creativity. Success is when you get what you want. Happiness is when you want what you get. A writer wants to be able to get inspiration (to write) and if you constantly do it without inspiration, it's gonna leave you. That's why I'm still writing after 30 years." Newbury grew up around a myriad of musical influences in Houston, Texas, including country, black, jazz, Mexican and folk. His first outlet for creativity was poetry, which he read in coffee houses in and around Houston. Soon he was putting music to those lines and performing as a singer. After a stint in the Air Force, Newbury bummed around while before hitting Nashville in the days when Kris Kristofferson and Tom T. Hall were still roaming the streets. It was the mid-60's, and these writers along with others seeking to have their songs recorded, were to change the course of songwriting in Nashville. It was still a time when songs were pitched by the songwriter who took his guitar and went to play his latest composition for the artist, but these writers were making it a time when sensitive lyrics, timely topics and haunting melodies became the accepted norm, not the exception, for a country song. Newbury thinks the cycle may have come around again to that type of song. "I've never pitched a song to an artist in my life, but if they ask me for one I'll play something for them," says Newbury, who's had cuts by Joan Baez, Andy Williams, Waylon Jennings, Elvis Presley, Ray Charles, Kenny Rogers, Don Gibson, Eddy Arnold, the Everly Brothers and Willie Nelson. In 1966 the Nashville newcomer had four number one records on four different charts - pop, rhythm and blues, easy listening and country. "I leave it up to the publisher to pitch my songs, or I did. I don't have a publishing company right now, so I haven't pitched any songs for the past five or six years. I think the cycle is coming back around to the simpler kind of music and Ill fall right back into it. Then the people who wouldn't answer my phone calls will be calling me. I can already sense it; my phone rings more now than it did a couple years ago." "I'm sure you've heard the talk about why I haven't been having success - I'm lazy or hard to get along with, or I'm a drug addict or whatever. But if I were having that success, it would be a whole different story. I'd be artistic then...sensitive, sorrowful, a sad broken man pouring out his life blood." Newbury may sound bitter, but a better description of his attitude would be uncompromising. He believes in the way he writes and what he writes and he refuses to come back to Nashville (he lives in Oregon) and be molded into the type of writer some would have him become. For the young writer, however, Newbury stresses that it is imperative for them to live in a major songwriting center. "I lived here for 15 years," he points out. "You really do need to be where it's happening. Especially I'd say to the young songwriter go to New York City, you go to Nebraska. You have to go where there is a demand for what you are doing." Of the writers who are going to a recording center to sell what they do, Newbury sees some formula writing, but he is also encouraged by some of the songs he hears today. "Writers today are better from the craft standpoint and they're better at a younger age because their education is accelerated by their exposure to the world through television," he says. "But in the country field, they are losing an understanding of what caused the sounds. The kid today might hear a harmonica and appreciate it but not realize that it was inspired by a freight train. So it wouldn't evoke the same emotion in him that it evokes in me, ‘cause there is nothing that tears your heart out more than being stuck in a poor neighborhood watching a train fly across the Texas Plains and hearing the sound of that old steam whistle. "I think some of the stuff that Phil Collins writes just kills me...Cat Stevens, Elton John's early albums, Paul McCartney and John Lennon together. In country music, Thom Schuyler, Guy Clark, Townes Van Zandt, Jay Bolotin. Bob McDill kills me. I can't understand how he writes like he does, ‘cause to him it's a job. I'd love to get into his head and understand him ‘cause I've never been able to write like that. I go for a year and not write, and then I'll write 20 songs." In closing, I'll let one of Newbury's peers, Kris Kristofferson, tell you what he thinks of this singer/songwriter. "Mickey deliberately defies labels. He is neither country nor soul...Behind the deceptive simplicity of some of his lyrics, there are levels of mental landscape that can take you in some strange directions, past the edges of understanding...Johnny Cash has probably come the closest by calling Mickey Newbury a poet..."

THE DUKE & THE KING: On the Horizon

Jewly Hight — Wed, 16 Sep 2009 20:18:10 +0000

The Duke and the King, at the Basement in Nashville on August 11.

Simone Felice’s journey from his sibling-led group, The Felice Brothers, to his new band with Robert “Chicken” Burke, The Duke & The King, lends itself to various interpretations. Sonically, it marks a shift from country-rock leanings to mellowed, harmony-sweetened country-soul, though he considers both styles incidental: “The Felice Brothers don’t try to sound like that—they just sound like that. And for me, it’s the same.” Lyrically, Felice intensified The Felice Brothers’ literary sensibilities, weaving strong narrative threads through the ten songs on The Duke & The King’s debut, Nothing Gold Can Stay. But nothing gets at the heart of Felice’s move from one to the other like generational theory. He was The Felice Brothers’ sole Gen X-er (everybody else being of Generation Y), and had a full decade on the youngest band member. For a group built on close familial ties, spirited music and the scrappy, collective pursuit of an audience, that didn’t matter. Until it did. Not that Felice had put the generational difference into words before being asked to during the interview for this article: “I didn’t sit down and think of it that way. But when you articulate it that way, it does make a lot of sense… I’m at a little different place in my life and I’ve had a lot of time on earth to have the kind of tragedies and jubilance that it takes to maybe write some different kinds of songs.” (No doubt, one of the tragedies he’s alluding to is losing the baby he and his longtime partner were expecting last winter. He told fans of the experience—and his new musical venture—in an open letter.) A song Felice contributed to the latest Felice Brothers album, Yonder Is the Clock, foreshadowed the direction he’d pursue on Nothing Gold; “All When We Were Young” is a reflection on youthful freedom receding in the rearview. “When I wrote “All When We Were Young”—I never really thought about it this way, but you just sort of brought it out of me—it opened that door,” says Felice. “The Duke & The King record, it’s all just true stories about the way my heart felt when I was a little kid, when I first got turned on to music.” With Burke, a longtime friend who’s worked with George Clinton and a capella group Sweet Honey In the Rock, Felice captured a particular season of life, one still close enough to youth to call to mind its innocent—and not-so-innocent—pleasures in detail, but beyond the point of retrieving them. Between album opener “If You Ever Get Famous,” pivotal tracks “Still Remember Love” and “Union Street” and closer “One More American Song,” a group of friends go from cruising around with ripped jeans, big dreams and fervently shared musical tastes to adulthood’s isolation and narrowing possibilities. All that’s to say, Felice’s new project pursues different themes than his work with The Felice Brothers. But there’s important continuity, too. Yonder is a Mark Twain reference; so is The Duke & The King, the names of two swindlers in Huckleberry Finn. “Here they are rolling down the river, and they’re setting up these bootleg Shakespeare shows,” Felice summarizes. “And it reminded me of how The Felice Brothers used to be when we first started. We used to just drive up and down the Hudson River and play anywhere we could, in any bar, in any subway…. And then also what happens to the Duke and the King is that they get tarred and feathered, obviously, at the end. So, for me, when it came time for us to say, ‘Hey, what are we going to call ourselves,’ [I said], ‘Man, if we call ourselves the duke and the king, then it’ll remind us that we need to be honest and to never roll down that road to getting tarred and feathered.’” Hometown: Catskill Mountains, New York Age: 32 An early musical influence: My mom had the Joni Mitchell record Blue and she played it everyday.

DAVID BAZAN: Carry On

Dustin Allen — Thu, 10 Sep 2009 14:06:21 +0000

David Bazan, alone and forsaken.

If ever there was a spokesman for those suffering from the God-sick blues, David Bazan is it. As the frontman behind Pedro the Lion for nearly a decade, Bazan has created a virtual trademark on doubt-ridden lyrics, sketching characters constantly slipping to-and-fro on a moral slope, or candidly confessing his own ambivalence toward God and his own faith.

Now that Bazan has dropped that moniker following the band’s split in 2005—a schism that was shared rather openly on the Fewer Moving Parts EP a year later—and released Curse Your Branches, his first full-length under his given name, the ever-dubious songwriter is yet again at the crossroads. Maybe it was the two solid weeks of tending to his newborn son. Maybe it was his newfound sobriety and spearheading a fresh career path. But when American Songwriter caught up with Bazan in his Seattle home over the phone, the man was almost eerily at ease. “I am a lot healthier and more content than I was,” says Bazan. “For me, stepping away from Pedro the Lion was stepping away from a process, a mode of doing things. I was definitely a drunk and a string of my buddies had been hurt and frustrated, and I didn’t want to continue that way. I needed some distance.” After a short-lived stint with side project Headphones, teaming with the Undertow Orchestra—a live collaboration with fellow under-the-radar songsmiths Vic Chestnutt, Mark Eitzel and Will Johnson—and rebranding himself as a solo artist, it might be natural to suspect that Bazan was poised for a push toward greater exposure. But even a cursory listen to Curse Your Branches’ modest 10 tracks is proof enough that he’s hardly looking to reinvent himself or reclaim his piece of the indie underground. If anything, Bazan has become more comfortable in his own skin, writing music the only way he knows how—assuredly neg-head, yes, but brutally honest and aware of its own limitations. “I got to a certain point with this record where I thought, ‘You want to be a big deal and these songs that you’re writing kind of ensure that you’re not going to be,’” says Bazan. Opener “Hard to Be” recalls the Headphones’ Moog-heavy tones, but then gently reverts to Bazan’s uneven croon and sad insights about how it is “hard to be a decent human being.” From there, however, the album tilts slightly upward with “Bless This Mess,” easily one of the more lighthearted songs he's ever written, even going so far as to feature a few friends for a semi-gospel choir and wry church organ interlude. Following that is “Please, Baby, Please” that, for all its mopey lyrics, chugs along with a crisp acoustic strum, lithe percussion and soft vocal coos. To top it off, “When We Fell,” a track that was originally conceived as a laborious, slow-moving dirge flips right-side up by way of trad-rock riffs and a few scattered chimes mid-song. A string of low-key tour stops last year—organized by fans at limited-admittance locales with only minimal publicity—may also be responsible for Bazan recruiting about a dozen other musicians to pull off this slight but noticeable shift in tone. “I really dislike the singer/songwriter tag, and when I was just out playing with an acoustic, that’s what I was,” says Bazan. “Not to mention [these songs were] basically autobiographical confessionals about religion. I realized what I was doing and I was horrified.” Still, what’s kept most Bazan fans coming back over the years is his knack for cutting to the quick, the sheer nerve of his perpetual spiritual limbo and how potently he conveys that through song. Whatever personal progress he's made recently, Bazan said those parts of him won’t likely dissolve any time soon. “I gave up trying to do anything sunny years ago,” says Bazan. “For better or worse, it really is the state of my psyche at any given time and is the stuff I grapple with. Ultimately, I really love these songs and if the record doesn’t sell well because of it, I’m fine with that.” Age: 33 Hometown: Seattle Early music influences: Lennon-McCartney, Paul Simon, Leonard Cohen

TIM EASTON: On the Money

Jewly Hight — Tue, 28 Jul 2009 15:10:30 +0000

Easton's textured, one-of-a-kind LPs run a low risk of being lost or tossed aside like so much jewel-cased rubbish, which-in addition to a rejuvenated love for painting-is why he made them in the first place.

There are plenty of routes an artist could take to elevate his album to limited edition status. Add a few bonus tracks, maybe a 24-page booklet or DVD. Then again, if uniformity's not an issue, and he doesn't mind a little added labor, he could always, say, hand-paint the cover art on each and every copy. And that's precisely what Joshua Tree-based singer/songwriter Tim Easton did with the Porcupine 500, a special limited edition vinyl series of his new album, Porcupine, which is also available in a standard version. Doing the album jackets in his arid California carport was the furthest thing from regimented mass-production: "Some of them blow away into the desert, blow away down my yard and get covered in sand." Besides that, he made each one slightly different on purpose, varying his application of wood stain, spray paint, and cut-outs of guitars and porcupines. Needless to say, Easton's textured, one-of-a-kind LPs run a low risk of being lost or tossed aside like so much jewel-cased rubbish, which-in addition to a rejuvenated love for painting-is why he made them in the first place. "I did it to have another way to package my music, because there's so much music out there that CDs have become pieces of garbage on the your floor of your car," he explains. "You wouldn't put the White Album on the floor of your car and have someone jump in the car and just step on it and break it." Not that Easton simply plucked the idea from the ether. He cites the vinyl packaging of the Black Swans' album Change! as a conceptual influence (theirs were painted by developmentally disabled adults) and Ohio-based outsider artist Rick Borg's uninhibited renderings as a stylistic one. The Porcupine 500 LPs are being treated as bona fide folk art. Easton isn't just selling them at shows, but in galleries, too, like Yard Dog in Austin. That means they're accessible to show-goers and art collectors alike (of course, the latter pay more, since galleries take a cut). Porcupine's 12 tracks-none of them hidden or bonus-lend themselves to packaging that's meant to be seen and felt. Easton's last three albums were based in folk with a mostly acoustic palette and a lighter touch. This one's got sharper sonic edges: serrated guitar licks, bristly vocals and roiling grooves. It's the closest thing to a rock band he's had behind him in a good long while. "I guess the packaging mirrors the sound as well, because it's a rough sound and falling-off-the-hinges sound," ventures Easton. "I don't get upset when I'm painting and something drips off the side and or there's a splash or something." Easton started on the LP covers with a vague inkling that some in his audience might appreciate the personal touch. "I thought about what maybe I would like to get from an artist," he says. "It's more about putting your heart into the art, and then, as it turns out, when you start thinking about what people might want-you know, consumers, music-lovers-it turns out to be the best idea." But here's a practical question for someone who makes his living as a musician (and who bought the materials out of his own pocket): how are they selling? "I'm really shocked at the amount of people that are buying vinyl from me," Easton confesses. "I wouldn't have thought that my audience was on par with buying vinyl as much as, say, the college-age hipsters are doing it. I'm thinking already to the future, of what I'm going to do with my next record." "The project has paid for itself and has proven to be um well...hot cakes. One word-hotcakes." HOMETOWN: Akron, Ohio AGE: 43 FAVORITE SONGWRITERS: Joni Mitchell, Mark Eitzel, Randy Newman and Neil Young.

BEN HARPER: Role Models

Holly Gleason — Thu, 09 Jul 2009 01:00:47 +0000

With White Lies for Dark Times, Ben Harper finds his genre-defying hybrid taking root in rockier plains—and that musical immediacy creates a tension that ratchets up his always on-point lyrics. Working with Relentless7—the latest incarnation of a Cinderella moment with a promoter’s runner Harper met in Austin, Texas—the impact isn’t just immediate in terms of attack, but also in grounding his always far-flung folk/Hendrix/world/jazz/beat-box songs.

"Keep It Together (So I Can Fall Apart)," “Lay There and Hate Me” and “Why Must You Always Dress In Black” bristle with an urgency that captures the ear with their razor-wire electricity, while the halting “The Word Suicide” is a meditation stretched taut over doubt and minimalism. It’s that how-now arranging, the leanness and the thrust that gives this far-flung collection a new kind of cohesion from the man who seems comfortable so many places he defies categories. Can you quantify music’s role in your life? My life without a soundtrack is stripped bare. To me, music’s not to be trivialized. Do not try to minimize or commoditize it. How does that give you a [creative] foundation? It’s never about anyone or anything… it’s really more a psychological or emotional necessity. [As a songwriter] you work from instinct, intuition and reaction. The songs will tell you: “Burn To Shine” has to be a rock song. So you let the songs tell you… What’s unique is the diversity of the songs, but it can also be my Achilles’ heel. You know, you’re not handing the record company 10 of one kind of song that they could market. So I’ll see mohawks, piercings, tattoos and yuppies… I’ll see the gentleman who signed me’s 80-something-year-old father, who’s a real old school Santa Monica nonconformist. Sounds tricky. Going hand-to-hand, ticket-by-ticket, show-to-show has given me a real appreciation of how you find your fans… I am loyal to my creative process, and you realize the music we love, when we put it on, something else enters the room. How does that reflect your working with Relentless7 and the evolution from the Innocent Criminals? In some ways, it’s a reckless abandonment of my past… but I’ve never landed in my past, as my fans know, I toured Both Sides of the Gun with the Innocent Criminals, we wrote Lifeline; but Relentless7 represent something I’ve been trying to do my whole life. It’s a scary place to be, and yet… how can I not [go there]? In those times when I’ve not done that—and tried to chase commercial connection—the business has always given me such a consistent smackdown, I can’t help but notice. Lessons like that, it doesn’t take an ass-whupping to figure out. Can you explain the change? Well, it feels like I’ve been trying to write these songs my whole life, and the evolution of a lot of it is connecting with Relentless7. I’ve never been satisfied with my own work, never felt comfortable with a creative arrival… What do I do with an exterior reality that gets me there? And you heard the previous band’s demo tape on a ride from a hotel to the gig in 1998? Yeah, I didn’t want to be the guy who says “No, I won’t listen,” even though to get onstage in front of 5,000, you need to be in a certain place. But when he puts it in, I’m floored: it’s the best rock record I’ve heard—and it stuck with me. I kept thinking back to ?uestlove and John Paul Jones… that experience kept coming back to Serve Your Soul. So I trusted it. We just played Austin City Limits and the fact they heard this record and wanted us the day they heard it was such a musical high. The things they get, the way they put it together—I knew we’d connected. More concretely, what about lyrics? I’m really trimming the fat now. You don’t do that unless someone’s over your shoulder at a younger age. You grow into it. I can feel the change aesthetically, genetically. If our species changes over time, it’s happening while we’re alive and making music. For me, it’s sparer. Can you explain? When John Prine writes “bowl of oatmeal tried to stare me down… and won,” it’s simple. It is. Or it is not. You can’t negotiate a color, a moment, a feeling. John Prine is so good at that. He’s my Leonard Cohen. How do you apply it? We start breaking it down: like autobiography or journalism. It gets tricky, because it’s not always about something that happened, but the moment you sing it, you have to own it. Take it on. Are there things you always use as you make this kaleidoscopic music? Fearlessness, absolutely. Discipline. You also need open-minded creativeness that lets everything in. You never want to lose a word or a phrase, yet every one should count. Always the best language possible. And, finally, knowing when to leave it alone. Stop when it’s done. Ben Harper and Relentless7’s White Lies for Dark Times is out now on Virgin Records.

25 Of Our Favorite Songs From 1984-2009

americansongwriter — Wed, 01 Jul 2009 22:34:55 +0000

The older one gets, the more one looks back at those years now gone. American Songwriter's reached the ripe age of 25 and the best years are ahead. But as happy as turning 25 makes us, we decided to look back at all the songs we've found and loved since 1984, the year the magazine started.25 OF OUR FAVORITE SONGS FROM 1984-2009 Selected by the American Songwriter Staff
The older one gets, the more one looks back at those years now gone. American Songwriter's reached the ripe age of 25 and the best years are ahead. But as happy as turning 25 makes us, we decided to look back at all the songs we've found and loved since 1984, the year the magazine started. Coming up with a list of favorite songs spanning a 25-year spectrum is far from easy, but it's also a lot of fun. Thinking about songs we listened to on the radio (when we turned 16, before CD players were standard and before satellite radio), songs we danced to (sometimes with someone special, sometimes completely solo), learned how to play on guitar (not deftly by any means) and songs we sang along to (words memorized and belted way out of tune) ushered in countless memories. The process brought us together as a staff, just sitting around talking about the songs we love, while at the same time it affirmed the amazing songwriting that's taken place between 1984 and the present. 25 "The Dance" Garth Brooks Garth Brooks (1989) Written by Tony Arata Brooks' delicate vocals match the tone of the poignant lyrics. The song's got love, dreams, loss, pain, hope and life in one tight package; it can leave you crying for all the right reasons.

24 "Fast Car" Tracy Chapman Tracy Chapman (1988) Written by Tracy Chapman The song that put Ms. Chapman on the map blends the hard-knocks realities of poverty in America with a timeless sense of urgency and hope.

23 "Sweet Child O' Mine" Guns N' Roses Appetite for Destruction (1987) Written by W. Axl Rose, Michael McKagan, Steven Adler, Saul Hudson and Jeffrey Isbell What started as a joke, with Slash noodling on his guitar, turned out to be ‘80s rock songwriting gold. Axl's ear-splitting vocals put "Sweet Child" over the top.

22 "When Doves Cry" Prince Purple Rain (1984) Written by Prince A dance-pop masterpiece that's spurred a generation of awkward white kids to attempt to dance and sing falsetto-don't go off to college without it.

21 "Wagon Wheel" Old Crow Medicine Show O.C.M.S. (2004) Written by Bob Dylan and Ketch Secor The best way to co-write with Dylan: find the scrap of an unreleased song and turn it into something wholly your own...well, Dylan still owns 50 percent, but you get the picture. Secor and Old Crow created a classic song that never gathers dust in our office.

20 "Sticks that Made Thunder" The SteelDrivers The SteelDrivers (2008) Written by Mike Henderson and Chris Stapleton A somber, chilling bluegrass number about...well...a tree. To be specific, a tree observing a Civil War battle-not many folks can pull a song like this off.

19 "Loser" Beck Mellow Gold (1994) Written by Beck Michael Hanson and Carl F. Stephenson Remember trying to memorize the words to this? Remember trying to figure out the chorus when the song first came out? If Beck is a loser, we don't want to win.

18 "First Day of My Life" Bright Eyes I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning (2005) Written by Conor Oberst Oberst's song is a wonderful, plain-spoken poetic statement on modern love. It's simple, delicate and feels new every time you play it for that special someone.

17 "Karma Police" Radiohead OK Computer (1997) Written by Colin Greenwood, Jonny Greenwood, Ed O'Brien, Phil Selway and Thom Yorke Radiohead bring the paranoia and chaos in this creepy classic. But the song's life-affirming coda ("for a minute there, I lost myself") is like a shot of adrenaline.

16 "Mr. Jones" Counting Crows August and Everything After (1993) Written by Steve Bowman, David Bryson, Adam Duritz, Charlie Gillingham, Matt Malley We all wanted to be big stars, and who among us doesn't want to be Bob Dylan? An inescapable hook and chorus just never lets this song grow stale. Sha-la-la-la-la indeed.

15 "Flume" Bon Iver For Emma, Forever Ago (2007) Written by Justin Vernon An eerie, lyrically vague number that swept us off our feet and dropped us in the Wisconsin wilderness. Vernon's DIY recordings from his cabin in the woods resonate and inspire.
14 "Independence Day" Martina McBride The Way That I Am (1993) Written by Gretchen Peters Our kind of patriotic song! It gets you all fired up about standing up for yourself in the face of something wrong-behind closed doors or in the streets. It's a must for any jukebox.

13 "Armchairs" Andrew Bird Armchair Apocrypha (2007) Written by Andrew Bird Not only does he whistle and play the violin like a mofo-Bird writes beautiful, endlessly unfolding tunes that make your soul ache with their loveliness.

12 "Mississippi" Bob Dylan Love and Theft (2001) Written by Bob Dylan Leave it to Bob Dylan to stay in Mississippi a day too long, write a song about it, and have said song be as deep and as powerful as the river it shares a name with.

11 "Smells Like Teen Spirit" Nirvana Nevermind (1991) Written by Kurt Cobain, Dave Grohl, Krist Novoselic Whether it's a lightning rod anthem for apathetic youth or one the best frickin' rock songs ever (or both), this tune will forever be one of our faves. Cobain ushered in the Grunge era with these contradictory lyrics, howling screams and potent guitar fuzz.

10 "Free Fallin'" Tom Petty Full Moon Fever (1989) Written by Jeff Lynne and Tom Petty The early dreams of westward expansion meet the not-so-happy reality of the present in Petty's tune, which namedrops L.A. streets and landmarks while echoing an urgency to flee. Doubt and heartbreak chased with a new dream of escape.

9 "Chattahoochee" Alan Jackson A Lot About Livin' (and a Little ‘Bout Love) (1992) Written by Alan Jackson and Jim McBride This devilishly straightforward song preaches the gospel of learnin', lovin' and livin' in the South. It's one of those songs in which lines unsaid are as important as those sung. It remains one of our favorites to crank up on a summer Friday afternoon.

8 "Forever and Ever, Amen" Randy Travis Always and Forever (1987) Written by Paul Overstreet and Don Schlitz Travis' singing can't be beat, while the songwriting team of Overstreet and Schlitz nail the earnest down-home sentimentality of a country boy on this one.

7 "Golden" My Morning Jacket It Still Moves (2003) Written by Jim James The guitar rambles and trots while James' vocals softly glide over. The lyrics about bars, concerts, and rock stars, delivered by James' alpine falsetto carry you off to a better place like a folk-rock lullaby.

6 "It's a Great Day to be Alive" Travis Tritt Down the Road I Go (2000) Written by Darrell Scott An American anthem about taking things day by day and enjoying the simple, offbeat things in life. The optimism lifts us up, gets us thinking about going to get new tattoos, and growing facial hair.

5 "Copperhead Road" Steve Earle Copperhead Road (1988) Written by Steve Earle Earle's song is a country-rock storytelling gem that'll always shine through. His musing on a descendant of bootleggers turned dope-grower in the Tennessee hills after two tours in Vietnam is bittersweet and blood-boiling-and butt-kickin' good.

4 "Revelator" Gillian Welch Time (The Revelator) (2002) Written by Dave Rawlings and Gillian Welch Sparse and elegant, "Revelator" has been hailed by some as one of greatest folk songs written in this century-we cannot disagree. The desperation, the wandering, and the abandonment found within are reminiscent of the mood and setting of a William Gay or Cormac McCarthy novel. Rawlings' picking on his archtop adds to the stumbling visions of moving westward, leaving the world behind. And here, especially, Gil and Dave's subtle vocal harmonies never fail to shiver spines and lift neck hairs.

3 "Ashes of American Flags" Wilco Yankee Hotel Foxtrot (2002) Written by Jay Bennett and Jeff Tweedy Wilco are like an ATM machine of good songs. This one is filled with hundreds and twenties. For a small service fee, you too will come back new.

2 "Born in the U.S.A." Bruce Springsteen Born in the U.S.A. (1984) Written by Bruce Springsteen Bruce Springsteen's career reached critical mass with the Born in the U.S.A. album. The title song, deceptively simple yet decidedly complex, lodged him into our national consciousness for good, and helped turn the man from New Jersey into an American folk hero and protector of the people. Ronald Reagan famously misunderstood the intentions behind the Boss's lyrics. But just because the chorus wasn't meant to be patriotic doesn't mean you can't sing it with pride. As an electric rave-up or an acoustic blues, "Born in the U.S.A." resonates almost as deeply as the American Dream.

1 "Graceland' Paul Simon Graceland (1986) Written by Paul Simon Paul Simon considers this the greatest song he's ever written, and he's written a lot of great songs. Dealing in divorce, the holy road trip, and the ghost of Elvis, "Graceland" is based on a real journey Simon took with his young son, Harper. The song's sad center anchors its optimistic exterior, and the music blends different cultures (South African, American) into a joyous cappuccino of sound. "There is a girl in New York City, who calls herself the human trampoline. And sometimes when I am bouncing, falling, and tumbling in turmoil, I say oh, so this is what she means. She means we are bouncing into Graceland."

RICHARD THOMPSON > Walking on a Wire: Richard Thompson (1968-2009)

Hal Horowitz — Wed, 01 Jul 2009 21:04:48 +0000

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Neither 2006's mammoth five-disc box of mostly acoustic rarities nor 1993's three-platter, non-chronological set-overburdened with live performances and unreleased studio outtakes-made the grade for a comprehensive overview of Richard Thompson's long, storied and rather confusing recorded legacy, at least for those who didn't already own most of his albums Label: SHOUT! FACTORY Rating: 5 out of 5 stars Neither 2006's mammoth five-disc box of mostly acoustic rarities nor 1993's three-platter, non-chronological set-overburdened with live performances and unreleased studio outtakes-made the grade for a comprehensive overview of Richard Thompson's long, storied and rather confusing recorded legacy, at least for those who didn't already own most of his albums. That has now been rectified with this four CD, 71-track compilation. It doesn't quite span the titular years (the newest songs are from 2007's Sweet Warrior), but effectively cherry picks material from 15 different labels spread across dozens of occasionally difficult to find side projects, soundtracks and solo albums. The result is, not surprisingly, a sprawling opus. It focuses on Thompson's eclectic artistry both as a dark spirited writer of generally morose, yet feisty songs, that occasionally veer to self-flagellation, and his stunning acoustic and electric guitar proficiency. Those sides have typically sparred for critical prominence, which provides a healthy yin-yang to music that revels in its artist's inherent dichotomy. Thompson's early years with Fairport Convention are somewhat under-represented with only five songs, but not so his six mid-‘70s/‘80s albums with ex-wife Linda Thompson, which account for nearly a full CD's worth of arguably his finest material. It's here that Thompson's gruff yet expressive voice finds a near perfect foil in Linda's sympathetic husky trill, a union that exploded, and unraveled, with the tension evident in the couple's white-knuckled personal and professional swansong Shoot Out the Lights. Mitchell Froom's overly fussy, slick studio work with Thompson has often been criticized, but the best songs from the producer's mid-‘80s through mid-‘90s years yielded plenty of quality material, boiled down to about a CD's worth on this collection. The compilers have successfully woven the diverse colors of the singer/songwriter's rootsy traditional U.K. folk, rock and pop palette, uncovering dusty gems and a few rarities while stretching the canvas to explore the many faces of Thompson's multi-sided personality. Neophytes to his extensive discography finally have a one stop smorgasbord to sample the man's expansive accomplishments before diving into individual releases for further exploration, all of which are guaranteed to provide additional delights.