Jeff McCord on the month’s new releases
Okkervil River
Jagjaguwar
Two talented guys, Will Sheff and Jonathan Meiburg, meet in Austin when Meiburg joins Sheff’s band, OKKERVIL RIVER. To display Meiburg’s songwriting talents, they form a second group, Shearwater. Now both top the list of the city’s best young bands. But while Shearwater, with Meiburg’s crystalline vocals, sounds dynamic and elegiac, Okkervil, with Sheff at the helm, is itchy with anxiety. Okkervil’s fourth full-length album, BLACK SHEEP BOY (Jagjaguwar), opens with the Tim Hardin tune of the same name and doesn’t exactly brighten up from there. Sheff’s songs resonate with anger, betrayal, and hints of violence. But because of his unique, fragile howl, the overall mood is one of sadness. Not in a whiny Smiths-like way but with a beautifully arranged edgy and haunting melancholy (à la Bright Eyes or Australia’s Go-Betweens) that keeps you enthralled.
Doug Sahm and The Sir Douglas Quintet
Hip-O
THE COMPLETE MERCURY RECORDINGS (Hip-O), from DOUG SAHM AND THE SIR DOUGLAS QUINTET, is a five-CD godsend that rescues many long-out-of-print albums and rarities from obscurity. Recorded just after Sahm’s initial Texas success, when he bolted for the more hospitable San Francisco, the six albums and one EP in this set represent only 1968 to 1971. Yet it was his most creative period. Sahm was famous for rolling Texas country, swing, border, and black music into one big tumbleweed; no one knew what to call it, much less how to market it. He overreached on these recordings—“uneven” doesn’t begin to describe them—but it’s remarkable how well they hold up as a whole. It’s not just the hits (“Nuevo Laredo,” “At the Crossroads”) but also the forgotten gems (“Don’t Want,” “Me and My Destiny”) and the way Sahm pours his soul into every performance.
Tom Russell
HighTone
Subtitled Charles Bukowski and a Ballad for Gone America, HOTWALKER (HighTone), from El Paso singer-songwriter TOM RUSSELL, is not an album of songs but rather an ambitious, historical audio collage of music and spoken word that pines for the heady days of Jack Kerouac, Dave Van Ronk, Woody Guthrie, Lenny Bruce, and Russell pen pal Bukowski. Russell slops the atmosphere on thick, like a first-time filmmaker. His voice commands attention, even if he narrates on occasion as if he were reading from Leviticus. But to what end? While carny Little Jack Horton is a wonder, the unfocused rants and out-of-context clips from the Beats only muddle the point. Ultimately, Hotwalker suffers from a pervasive bitterness. In order to raise a glass to the past, is it necessary to dismiss everything else?
