Jeff McCord on the month’s new releases
Gurf Morlix
Diamonds to Dust
Blue Corn
Having built a solid career as a sideman’s sideman and an A-list roots-rock producer hasn’t made Austin’s GURF MORLIX any more market- able. Not that that’s an easy task. Morlix is a serious musician with matchless taste, but his name says it all: He’s got a silly side. You wouldn’t know this from his eleven years with Lucinda Williams—he produced her acclaimed self-titled 1988 album and its follow-up, Sweet Old World—but explore a bit deeper and there it is: his late-seventies onstage pranks with Blaze Foley, his off-color work with Ray Wylie Hubbard, and a curious trio of solo albums, which place gems like “Fallin’ Off the Face of the World” alongside nonsense like “Dan Blocker.” And yet, perhaps as a reflection of the times we live in, Morlix is no longer in a joking mood. From the opener of DIAMONDS TO DUST (Blue Corn), “Killin’ Time in Texas,” there’s a gruff conviction in his voice that’s been previously missing in action. Morlix is not much of a singer (his high notes on Dylan’s “With God on Our Side” will try your patience), but no matter. Stark, direct, and bone honest, this is a commanding and appealing set of songs.
David “Fathead” Newman
Life
HighNote
At 74, DAVID “FATHEAD” NEWMAN may no longer raise the hair on the back of your neck when he tears off a tenor sax solo, but the force of his tone—comfortable, assured, sturdy, Texan—remains undiminished. LIFE (HighNote) is of a piece with the Corsicana-born reedman’s other recent work: It is uneven, rather pedestrian in song choices, and surprisingly evocative at unexpected moments. Two sidemen, the fluid guitarist Peter Bernstein and the brilliant vibraphonist Steve Nelson (who isn’t given nearly enough to do), enliven this session. Newman, who sounds more like Paul Desmond than the Ray Charles R&B shouter of old, has mellowed, but the ideas still flow. On a song as tired as “Autumn in New York,” he finds creative spark, while his Miles Davis–style restraint on “Old Folks” is a thing of beauty. That said, the flute songs are a snooze, and, c’mon—“What a Wonderful World”? Given Newman’s past triumphs, it’s hard not to expect more. To be fair, the laid-back vibe here is somewhat by design; the set is dedicated to the impressionistic pianist John Hicks, who died last year. And it’s all redeemed by a happy ending: an unusual and meditative reading of Coltrane’s “Naima.”
Grand Champeen
Dial T for This
In Music We Trust
As has proved popular in rock and roll, if you’re going to pretend you don’t really care about your music, the stage is the place to act this out. Bands like the Replacements carried this to extremes; their drunken train wrecks in the eighties convinced a lot of people they really didn’t care, though their classic recordings showed otherwise. GRAND CHAMPEEN, a band that takes inspiration from the ’Mats, among others, seems to have gotten this backward. Since it got rolling in Austin in 2000, it’s been known for memorable material and powerhouse performances—and for recordings that sound tossed off. But DIAL T FOR THIS (In Music We Trust), its fourth album and the first in four years, tells a different story. In timeless rock band tradition, Channing Lewis and longtime friend Alex Livingstone swap songs of winning power pop (“Nice of You to Join Us,” “Wounded Eye,” “Cities on the Plain”). With backing vocals and smart, melodic arrangements “performed by someone in the band on an actual instrument, not a computer” (as the album credits boast), Grand Champeen tightens things up without sacrificing a bit of its edge.
Robert Harrison
The former front man of the long-running, traditional Austin pop combo Cotton Mather has brought together a sprawling and ambitious ensemble with a self-titled new project, Future Clouds and Radar (The Star Apple Kingdom).
Why this different direction? After Cotton Mather, I was laid up for some time with a spine problem, and getting beyond it required a complete psychic, spiritual overhaul. I left music. And when I returned, I decided the new expression should be a truer extension of the spirit. I’ve always reacted against the commodity-driven notion that artistry is strongest when it’s monochromatic. I still wanted to create rooms, but the walls had to go. Now it’s a freewheelin’, paint-splattering, horn-blowin’, kitchen-sink world where guitars still rule the roost. And it’s a dude fest no more. With women in the group, the energy balances.
You’re about to release a double-CD debut, an uncommon move for a new band. Why so many songs? Anything less was an incomplete thought, and my attempts to abbreviate down to one disc were pathetic. It’s all incredibly presumptuous. I should add that it was originally going to be three discs, so be grateful.
Future Clouds and Radar: Robert Harrison, published by The Star Apple Kingdom.
