Redux Nation

New Then, New Again

originally published April 12, 2006

VARIOUS ARTISTS

Heartworn Highways

Hacktone

Though it follows the DVD of the same name by a couple years, this audio companion to the original 1981 outlaw country documentary at least arrives sooner than the initial product, which sat shelved for almost 20 years before its re-release in 2003. With Heartworn Highways, filmmaker James Szalapski put together a simple, off-the-cuff portrait of the mid-‘70s “outlaw country” scene that was emerging in Texas, Nashville and elsewhere. Many of his subjects were unknown at the time, but featured performers like Guy Clark, Townes Van Zandt, Steve Earle and John Hiatt would eventually become well-known and venerated figures.

All those “name” troubadours and a few who’ve been forgotten (Steve Young, Gamble Rogers, etc.) appear on the CD, which presents 26 live and studio performances taken from the film. From Augustan swamp balladeer Larry John Wilson’s “Ohoopee River Bottomland” to Clark’s tear-squeezing “Desperadoes Waiting For a Train” to David Allen Coe’s rowdy performance before inmates at a Tennessee state prison, there’s a wealth of previously unexplored gems here. Coe’s brow-raising comments like, “All the guards here drive Cadillacs,” is just one of the choice moments captured by the filmmakers’ cameras and audio equipment.

Elsewhere, Clark and wife Susanna host a holiday party that features such then-greenhorns as Rodney Crowell and Earle seated around a crowded kitchen table swigging whiskey and swapping songs. Earle’s first-take performance of “Mercenary Song” and the seldom-heard “Elijah’s Church” are nice inclusions, as is John Hiatt’s sentimental “One For the One,” recorded the same day that Hiatt signed his first recording contract.

Equally impressive are the living-room recordings of Van Zandt, already a great deal out of his gourd at twenty-something, playing music and shooting bull with neighbor Seymour Washington, who advises his drunken comrades to enjoy such temptations as brown liquor “in moderation.”

One of the film’s most acclaimed shots accompanies Van Zandt’s skeletal “Waitin’ Around To Die” as Washington slowly tears up during the song. Though those strong visuals are absent here, Van Zandt’s weathered performance, complete with yard dogs howling in the background, retains its eerie, prophetic vibe just the same.

Given that these juxtaposed performances sat untouched for so long, it’s remarkable what a cohesive album exists. The recordings (many one-time-only takes) are, for the most part, free of age-related audio obstructions and chunks of dialogue (like Wilson’s impromptu studio conjuring of Lightnin’ Hopkins) have been left in to provide a better sense of flow. The brief appearances and accidental character studies captured by Heartworn Highways are snapshots that could never be repeated. Fortunately, they also make a pretty righteous souvenir.

FRED NEIL

Fred Neil

Water/ EMI

For someone who's been described as everything from a total scumbag to a walking train wreck, late Florida-based folkie Fred Neil sure knew how to make some beautiful music. Like contemporary Tim Hardin, though, Neil's personal life was run amok with drug issues, erratic behavior and bad decisions that often cast a long shadow upon his work.

Neil’s self-titled sophomore release is the most well regarded of all his output, and it’s easy to see why. From the opening lines of “The Dolphins,” Neil’s chiming 12-string and cavernous voice set an almost ominously mellow tone that’s hard to resist.

From there, “That's the Bag I'm In” brings some cleverly-penned, self-deprecating blues, a version of Elizabeth Cotton’s “Shake Sugaree” retitled “I’ve Got A Secret” showcases Neil’s otherworldly tremolo vocals and the hummable “Badi-Da” exists in a subdued state of weird all its own. Overall, it's a high water mark in both the annals of post-Dylan folk rock and the spotty track record of the album’s creator.

SONIC YOUTH

Sonic Youth

CICCONE YOUTH

The Whitey Album

THURSTON MOORE

Psychic Hearts

Geffen/ Ume

Geffen’s extensive Sonic Youth reissue campaign continues with three releases that highlight specific chronological corners of the quintessential art-punk foursome's career.

The group's long unrestored self-titled debut leads the pack. Originally released in 1982, the band’s angular guitar squeal was beginning to take form, but the seminal Sonics had no real game plan to back them up. Apparently bongos were also integral during this period.

The original five-song EP has since been filled out with eight bonus goodies, including live versions of several album tracks. Entertaining liner notes from then-drummer Richard Edson add to this informative, though hardly definitive, second look.

Recorded in 1987–88 as a between-ideas larf, The Whitey Album, credited to Madonna-inspired alias Ciccone Youth, has aged the worst of the lot. Though Mike Watt's one-man-band cover of “Burnin’ Up” is a keeper, those expecting a full-on Material Girl pastiche will be sadly disappointed. That is, unless random phone messages cobbled together with noisy feedback, unintelligible speak-song and some random guitar cameos from J. Mascis resembles your idea of a good time.

Psychic Hearts, the lone solo release from SY frontman Thurston Moore, is actually the most worthy of re-examination. Originally from the post-Dirty ‘90s, it plays much like a lost Sonic Youth album heavy on pop culture and cult icon references (and in a nice twist, became a reference of its own for one young Athens trio). Throughout, Moore pays cryptic tributes to several preceding art-rock icons with tracks like “Ono Soul, “Patti Smith Math Scratch,” the T-Rex/ Syd Barrett-inspired “Cindy (Rotten Tanx)” and the final 20-minute noise jam “Elegy for All the Dead Rock Stars.”

Divvied up into mostly three- and four-minutes-long reverb-heavy rockers, Psychic Hearts stands out, as does the greatly amended Sonic Youth EP, as it provides a very early, very different version of the band (check out Kim Gordon’s coke bottle glasses and Moore’s flattop hairdo) that many new converts might not be accustomed to. As for The Whitey Album, aspiring sonic youngsters can easily find a better place to begin accumulating their shrine. On that note, where’s the Daydream Nation deluxe edition already?

Michael Andrews Redux Nation is a monthly column focusing on album reissues, repackagings and box sets.

Michael Andrews

Redux Nation is a monthly column focusing on album reissues, repackagings and box sets.