While driving to a gig, a road sign that read, “6 miles to McKenney” caught Claire Holley’s eye. She liked the sound of it and started singing it to herself. A bit later, after an encounter with an odd woman at a gas station, Claire put the pieces together for this straight-ahead honky-tonk tale of a quiet nobody, trying to stay invisible in the presence a free spirited drifter, all the while fantasizing about joining her for the adventures that lay ahead.
Little Feat have spent the better part of their lives making Southern jump in the studio and on the road. It’s a lifestyle that’s “all right for awhile” as they say in Home Ground, but they’ll overcome flat tires, simmering blacktop and the temptations of alluring admirers, just to be home once again. Paul Barrére and Fred Tackett’s guitars mix tube tone and down home funk like a runaway train and Billy Payne’s keyboard puts the ‘D’ in Dixie.
A cymbal crashes, summoning all the believers to prepare to shake their souls in straight-eights and heed the tale of a roadside preacher who sells bottle rockets 2-for-1, but dispenses scripture for free. You shall rise to your feet children, as the backbeat converts you to the congregation and calls you to wave your hands and cry “Amen.” You, too, shall see salvation flickering at the end of a fuse.
Austin’s Alejandro Escovedo tells stories from the pages of his life in a very honest way. He writes about love’s joy and ending, his father’s influence and his own take on the Mexican-American experience. He’s stretched beyond his rock & punk roots into playwriting and string ensembles — a renaissance man with cowboy boots and a tube amplifier. But that’s not to say he doesn’t still rock the joint. On “Castanets,” a fuzz-tone fanfare begins a straight-arm rock & roll account of the uncomplicated thrill of watching a woman.
With eyes closed, a man sings, “Trouble is what trouble does/When the stakes are high and that simple kiss comes to shove/I can see why you would sell me out when you could/Your soul was getting lost and the money was getting good.” And then you meditate on your own anecdotes of betrayal, stored in a sad part of your memory. That is what Christopher Williams does. He causes you to listen, but lets your mind hear.
Journey into 21st century blues, guided by the late and great R.L. Burnside, a full-time sharecropper and part-time juke joint king for most of his 79 years. After a lifetime of playing the juke joints of Northern Mississippi, R.L. gained critical and commercial acclaim in the 1990s, by mixing the blues with techno and hip-hop, at the tender age of 65.
Recorded live in the candlelit ballroom of a Hollywood Hills mansion, Lakeville is Amy Correia’s homage to being at peace with oneself. Named after her childhood home, the images of a shimmering lake and sunlight glowing through the leaves are brought magically to life by a subtle ensemble of guitar, baritone ukulele and muted trombone while Amy’s intimate vocals float dreamily, like lilies across the water.
Angela sings with a weary, world-worn wisdom that makes you know she’s telling you the truth. Her producer says that she “… possesses an inexplicable magnetism, an infinite energy, scattering practical advice, poetry, Dorothy Parker-isms, and foul-mouthed jokes like fairy-dust.” On Sleep On It she spins a tale of her dismay at a lover’s betrayal. Listen to her deliver the fatal blow as she reveals that there are cameras in the ceiling fan.
Cassandra left Mississippi and arrived in New York, filling 138th Street with a voice seeping with sophistication and seduction. Her earthy contralto of New York swing and hip was made more magical by the underlying presence of her native soil. You can hear it in her textural treatment of Miles’ “Run the Voodoo Down.” The song fades in, like it has always been playing. Percussion and percussive wah-wah guitar unfurl, as a muted trumpet from the netherworld seems to echo her every phrase of self-pride.
From Austin to Memphis, and all points between, here are yarns of downhome wisdom played with reverence for the boogie. It’s a revival meeting on a powder keg and the band is lighting matches!
Though they make the air rumble with their music, these artists display a balance between discipline and danger as they skillfully serve their rock & roll muses. They’ve become seasoned demolition experts, knowing when to implode and when to explode.
Here are chronicles of love a thousand miles away from the fairy-tale variety. Romantic love? Of course, but also tales of self-love, unrequited love, and even murderous love.
Although these songs were not written about autism, with some interpretation, they speak strongly about a life far too many people lead. We are donating every penny from the sale of this CD to the Cure Autism Now Foundation.