VINTAGE
The true sound of the Texas dance Hall.
HERE’S THE TRUE SOUND OF the South and Central Texas dance hall. Adolph Hofner, born in 1916 in the predominantly Czech community of Moulton and based mainly in San Antonio since the thirties, recorded Western swing and its variants for several national labels starting in 1938. But he was best known in the Hill Country and the Valley as a tireless performer who knew exactly what the people wanted come Saturday night. After his music fell from fashion, he signed with Luling’s Sarg Records in 1956, putting his favorites on vinyl for die-hard fans until 1973. His best bands included the soaring swing fiddler J. R. Chatwell, spunky pianist Charlie Poss, versatile drummer Eddie Bowers, and Adolph’s brother and steel guitarist, known as “Bash” — short for the nickname “Bashful,” though it could just as easily have referred to his steel style. Adolph played guitar, sang a little, and kept his bands swimming effortlessly in their musical melting pot. They cut old-country folk songs (“Julida Polka”), American folk music that had resonated in Texas for generations (“Under the Double Eagle”), stately waltzes (“Westphalia Waltz”), bouncy original polkas (“The County Fair Polka”), Western swing (“Steel Guitar Rag”), honky-tonk (“Pistol Packin’ Mama”), Spanish-flavored ballads (“The Three Caballeros”), rockin’ country boogie (“Rockin’ and A-Boppin”), modern country (“You Ain’t Woman Enough”), and all the regional dances (“Cotton Eyed Joe,” “Dance the Paul Jones-Old Joe Clark,” “Dude Ranch Schottische,” “Put Your Little Foot”). Remarkably, no matter what the material, every track sounds unmistakably like the same band. As the result of a stroke in 1993, Hofner doesn’t perform anymore, but the 35 tracks on this double CD are the next best thing to being there when he did. by John Morthland Reviewed by John Morthland
Sister Seven
Wrestling Over Tiny Matters
ARISTA
EVER SINCE SISTER SEVEN moved from Dallas to Austin in 1991 and became one of Texas’ most consistently popular and hardest-touring bands, their curse has been that of every post-Dead “jam” band: great improvisational players don’t often fare well in sterile studios, and rubbery funk grooves rarely add up to solid recordings. After a pair of indie albums and a live souvenir, 1997’s This the Trip — the band’s debut for Arista — was a promising but uneven step toward a more song-oriented approach. The effort may have spawned a minor VH1 hit in “Know What You Mean,” but even onstage there was little to indicate the tightly written and radio-friendly high-gloss sheen of Wrestling Over Tiny Matters. It’s nothing more than a thirteen-track tribute to the power of the three-minute pop song, and that’s just fine. Practically every song hits the chorus running, and the ballads have genuine melodic bite. And for each moment of unabashed accessibility, there are also flashes of depth (“Loaded”) and witty introspection (“My Three Wishes”). All told, Sister Seven may finally be as good of a value at your local record store as they are at your local nightclub. by Andy Langer Reviewed by Andy Langer
Bob Dorough
Too Much Coffee Man
BLUE NOTE
HEARD OF BOB DOROUGH? The former Plainview resident’s early work never caught on with the record-buying public, yet many unsuspecting fans know him as the anonymous voice behind such animated Schoolhouse Rock vignettes as “Three Is a Magic Number.” Too Much Coffee Man, Dorough’s sophomore effort in his late-in-life jazz renaissance (he’s now 76) maintains his usual sunny poise, but he’s a far cry from the Ned Flanders of bop. His near-flippant delivery is underscored with a hip wink while talents such as saxophonist Phil Woods and bassist Ray Drummond ensure some forthright swing. Dorough is a first-rate pianist with an idiosyncratic vocal style, complete with a Southern twang and an almost otherworldly falsetto. On “The Coffee Song,” “Fish for Supper,” “I’ve Got Just About Everything” (the closest thing to a Dorough standard), and the title track (which pays tribute to cartoonist Shannon Wheeler’s creation), he weaves and scats his mouthfuls all around the rhythm. Dorough doesn’t interrupt the groove; he is the groove. And even on headier material like “Marilyn, Queen of Lies” he’s unmistakably having a great time. You will too. Jeff McCord Reviewed by Jeff McCord
Chris Rybak
Chris Rybak
GLAD MUSIC
TAKE A LANKY 22-year-old kid in a cowboy hat who cites Flaco Jiménez and Myron Floren as major influences alongside Hank Williams, Garth Brooks, and George Strait, and you just know there’s a whole lotta polka in his country soul. And that’s precisely what Chris Rybak’s self-titled CD is all about: Bohemian-German hybrids that reflect his hometown roots (Hallettsville, in the heart of the Texas Polka Belt), including standards like “All by Myself” (sung in Czech), “German Waltz” (sung in German), and “Jambalaya” juxtaposed with renderings of “Don’t Squeeze My Sharmon” and “I Want to Dance With You.” But when he throws “Hey Baby Que Paso,” the National Anthem of San Antonio, into the mix, with backing vocals provided by the late Doug Sahm, Rybak demonstrates he’s got the right stuff to take the accordion to the next level of Texas cross-cultural fusion. by Joe Nick Patoski Reviewed by Joe Nick Patoski
HAVING MADE HIS NAME AS A producer, Austin’s Gurf Morlix has finally stepped up to the plate with his solo debut. These eleven originals reflect the music of the artists he’s worked with (Lucinda Williams, Jimmie Dale Gilmore, Robert Earl Keen) and the influence of his Southern California cronies Dave Alvin, Jim Lauderdale, and Dwight Yoakam. “Wild Things” jump-starts the proceedings, a rollicking country blues number with guest vocals by Buddy Miller that segues into the swaggering boogie of “You Don’t Know Me.” “Robin Sings at Midnight” is wonderful trashcan bluegrass; Morlix harmonizes with himself and juggles a handful of instruments (banjo, jug, mandocello). He’s in fine form on guitar but meets his match in Ian McLagan, whose Hammond B3 stylings glue the whole lot together. And the album winds down to a graceful end with “Fallin’ Off the Face of the World,” an acoustic ballad of love lost that brings everything to a quiet close. As he did when working with other artists, Morlix avoids the temptation to overproduce, making Toad of Titicaca a solid set that gets better with every listen. by Luann Williams Reviewed by Luann Williams
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