5 Songs Saturday Feb. 8

Sorry for the delay - plumbers talking about tearing up stuff to find a pipe connection distracted me yesterday afternoon

X – “In the Time It Takes” 1987 from See How We Are. I never really gave this album much of a chance. Obviously “Fourth of July” was an instant classic, and I always kinda liked the title track. But coming after the disappointment of Ain’t Love Grand, and then the departure of guitarist Billy Zoom, I was down on the band by 1987. Zoom was replaced by a combination of Dave Alvin and Tony Gilkyson, and they didn’t even try to ape his slick rockabilly-inspired licks or smoothly rhythmic power chords. But given that the guitars sound completely different, and the production was still smothering DJ Bonebrake’s drumming in the gated sound of the era, this at least is a pretty good X song. John Doe and Exene Cervenka are bouncing off each other the way they patented several years earlier, and the song zips along with typical energy and exhilaration. The lyrics concern the ways people stop paying attention until they find themselves in a tight situation. I guess that’s how I treated X – I gave up on them, and then they were gone. (Until, of course, they came back five years ago with two fine final albums with the original line-up.)

The Boys – “Tumble With Me” 1977 from The Boys. On the one hand, this is from a long tradition of misogynistic songs wherein the girl is told she’s nothing unless she has sex with the boy. On the other, it’s tongue in cheek, and reveals the insecurity of the boy who’s singing it. The Boys had better songs about sex – “First Time” is kind of a classic – but I can’t dislike this one. Primarily, it’s the energy and melodic intensity of their music, just on the edge of punk rock but without the angst. The Boys lasted a couple of years, and influenced a number of St. Louis musicians at the time – the Retros were practically a Boys tribute band in approach. They never made a big splash on this side of the pond, and have probably been forgotten by all but a few hardy punk nostalgists over in England. But I’m always pumped up when I get a chance to remember one of their songs.

The Everly Brothers – “Love Hurts” 1961 from A Date With the Everly Brothers. Like many people my age, I first heard this song when Nazareth had a hit with it in the mid-70s. Later, though, I heard the incomparable Gram Parsons and Emmylou Harris version of the song. The original, however, is worth hearing, too. I was surprised to learn it was never released as a single, since it was clearly the song best designed to be a hit on this album. Weird. It’s a typical Everly Brothers ballad, with Phil and Don putting their sibling harmonies to this lovely melody and words about the pain of breaking up. Unlike the later versions, the Everlys don’t accent the ways love hurts. They sing it straight, letting the words sneak up on you after you’ve already started the slow dance and maybe kissed for the first time. Gotta love the reverb-drenched guitars, too – it’s similar to the harmonies the brothers provide, but coming from one instrument.

Hortense Ellis – “Willow Tree” late 1960s available on Alton & Hortense Ellis. This is a cover of Hortense’s brother Alton’s cover of Chuck Jackson’s “My Willow Tree.” Apparently, it was all the rage for a little while in Jamaica back in the late 60s to have Hortense do her own versions of the records her brother had done. They were both great singers, and while he put more power in his delivery, I really like the buttery smoothness of the way Hortense approaches the song. (I don’t mind the original, but I much prefer the rock steady feel of the Jamaican takes.) In the song, Hortense tells the willow tree that she has no more tears now that she’s found the man she’s looking for, so there’s no reason for the tree to hang around her and be sad. Makes sense, right? This is a beautiful little record.

The Watersons – “The Brave Ploughboy” 1981 from Green Fields. I hold certain musical truths to be self-evident, and one of these is the majesty of the Watersons. Norma, Lal, and Mike Waterson were three siblings who fashioned a unique harmony style. Norma and Mike in particular seemed to believe as I did in high school choir that their part should be loudest at all times. Lal could take this approach herself, but more often she blended. By the time of this album, and for the rest of the group’s on and off career, they were joined on bass vocals by the incomparable Martin Carthy, who had his own solo work to feature his voice. “The Brave Ploughboy” is an atypical example of the group’s art, since the four of them mix their voices together with no lead interjections. Their sound, which my wife compares to bleating goats but which gives me shivers and goosebumps, is instantly recognizable and completely original. The song here is an old English folk number about work on a farm, but I’m pretty sure the way the Watersons harmonized it was their own invention. We’ve lost all three of the siblings over the years. My memories of some live performances remain among my most treasured. Thanks to Judy Stein of Focal Point for bringing them to St. Louis whenever possible and leading me towards this magnificent music so long ago.