I hope I don't ruin it for anybody:
The Gourds' GHOSTS OF HALLELUJAH is as round and smooth as STADIUM
BLITZER is pointy and jagged. GHOSTS flows more like BEEBLE, but like
all Gourds' recordings (except those two covers on that EP) it's purpose
is not entirely to put one's mind at ease with it's perty sounds or
light hearted sensibility.
It is, for the most part, a deeply personal and serious record (from a
group of five 'nutty' guys, no less). This record does not let you take
it lightly.
It starts with "Up on High", on which you will immediatly notice that
Keith Langford (drums) is kicking your ass (and he keeps it up
throughout the whole damn record). And besides the sheer beauty of
Jimmy's "wild foam vanilla baths" mixed with the butt ugly "while that
dog was takin' a shit, I snuck up behind him and gave him a kick..."
working your brain, Max's fiddle will surely make you feel up on high
where those wild foam vanilla baths are flowing.
Next, you get Kev.'s "Ghost's of Hallelujah". The thing drives. It's a
song about old memories screwin' with your head, and it sticks into the
listener's accordingly. Doug Sahm told me it's gonna be a hit. Well,
in an alternate, more perfect universe (that may have existed when Doug
had his hits) it might be. It's unlike any other Gourd's tune. All can
think when they play it is that they sound like rock stars, like The
Stones, Springsteen, Petty, Neil Young, etc. in their "glory days".
Then, you get "Gangsta Lean" (reference to Curtis Mayfeild). Kev.'s
comment about gangsta (rap) mentality. As far it's style goes, you'll
swear Keith and Kev. are both halves of Levon Helm. And the rest falls
into line perfectly with their lazy groove.
Now, it's Jim's "County Orange", one of my favorite songs to come down
the pipe. It's all about Jim going to jail last Spring filtered through
a 'footwear' metaphor. You'll hear a bit of Chris Flemmons, Elvis, and
lot of stuff you never imagined in this one. It's a little different
than they way they where playing it live. It's faster, the guitar and
drums are double timed, and Max adds a mean banjo. It took me awhile,
but I'm comming around to this version, but I sure do miss Keith cymbal
crashes.
"Ladies Choice" (Smith) is even more different than what you live music
lovers might be expecting. It's Jim on bass, Keith, Claude on accordian
run through a Leslie (it sounds like a B-3), and Rob Bernard on
electrical guitar. It sounds like a rock 'super group'. This song's
lyrics (revolving around a bicycle crash) are so brillant that it's hard
not be afraid that such treament might distract, but it's so word heavy
that I think that in this case distraction is an accomplishment. You
are not going to 'get' much of this record on first listen, but you will
enjoy that listen (and the process of 'getting it' later), that's for
damn sure.
Number 6 is "Jan. 6th", written on that date last year by Mr. Russell.
This song is so well crafted it boggles my mind. The words flow like
boundless round waves. And it's title suggest that Kev. does not want
it's meaning to come as easy as the two line explaination I was about to
give it. I'll never ever forget the first time I heard it, I bet you
won't either.
Jim's "Pair of Goat's" is a strange erotic sway through goat-dum (as
oppossed to cyote-dum)--if that makes any sense (this isn't Jimmy's
explaination by the way). This is one that if you don't get, you might
be skippin'. But if you try hard enough, you'll understand why Jim
sometimes feels "goat-like".
I can imagine Kev.'s "Fine Leather Truck" being a hit with Nashville
lovers, if only they heard it. It's a jovial little country song about
not much and a fine leather truck (exterior, not interior I believe).
You'll find yourself dancin'.
Now comes the Trilogy. Three of Jim's songs played with no break
between them. It works wonderfully in that it lumps Jim's superb
goofiness into one spot on the record, as to not toy with the songs in
the drivingly serious begining and the solemn ending. "Bean Bowl" opens
it up with spit out verses alluding to everything under the son and a
chorus that simply asks for an absent female to "crawl out of <his> bean
bowl". The song works in a way only "Caledonia" had before. "My Time,
Yer Time" follows with Max's dobro dominating a "LGO"-like anthem for
Jim's incompatiblity with women. Then, "Son of Bum" explores the roach
farm that is Jim's house. It's all great fun.
Now, back to (as Jim would say) the real deal. Kev.'s "Flat Baritone"
is a mostly autobigraphical tune, but I hear some references to some
other beebles in there. This is one that calls on specific experiences
in it's imagery that might seem a little random at first listen (ala
"Dyin' in the Pines", "Web", etc.), but you put it all together and it's
as real as it get's. Sorta like anybody else's autobiography.
Kev.'s string instrument tour de force, "Greivin' and Smokin'", at first
listen might fit the first half of the record better than the second,
but not quite somehow. Truth is, this one doesn't fit anywhere
stylistically. In his infinite wisdom Keith suggested it lead off the
record, but the no one could pass up the bookends (more on that later).
Thematically, however, I think it fits right where it is. After the
longing of "Flat Baritone" you have Kev.'s melancoly acceptance of the
"new way" of trudging along sometimes bickerin', drinkin', playin',
always smokin' and greivin', and what have you at the Steamy Bowl (Jim's
house). It's tempo and groove also let you back up after "Flat" only to
let you back down...
I love the way this record ends. "Rugged Roses" is officially Kev. and
Robin's song, given to them by Jim, it's author, at Kev. and Robin's
wedding. If it where up to him, Jim would have never thought to put it
on the record, but Kev. wanted it on here. It's an unbelievably pretty
song (Jim's prettiest for sure) with the greatest vocal melody you can
imagine. Kev. and Robin are the roses, 'we' are all the other pretty
flowers. It might sound sappy when I describe it, but it's way more
than sap, believe me. It's the sweetest honey.
Finally, we get "Lowlands" (remember we started "Up on High",
bookends--get it). It's Kev. by himself with a tiny nylon stringed
guitar. It's an amazing song, that I fear would suffer from my
description. Just now it's the perfect way to end this record.
But you'll want to start it over again I'm sure.
My verdict: GHOSTS is a badass album. I wouldn't trade it for anything
I've got. And I would not be ashamed to play it for or praise it to any
of my heroes (Bob Dylan, Glenn Danzig, Jon Weisberger, etc.).
I can't call it perfect 'cause there are mistakes, production things I'd
like to change a little, etc. But in my mind all of that adds to it's
character and life to the whole deal. Since when is American music
supposed to perfect. Nothing's perfect unless it's fake (man made).
Sorry if all this sounds a little like horse hockey, but it was one
(drunken) take. I promised myself I wouldn't edit 'cause I would be
doin' it forever.
--Matt Cook
