Tony Peyser's "Blue State Jukebox"

January 19, 2006

Adam Carroll's Far Away Blues

Tony Peyser's "Blue State Jukebox" Review -- January, 2006 Edition

Many years ago, I heard Ry Cooder's acoustic version of "The Dark End Of The Street" and was overwhelmed by its emotional wallop --- even though I didn't know what the heck it was about. I later found out there were lyrics by Spooner Oldham and Dan Penn, who also wrote the melody. They're the uncrowned kings of Southern soul and this song about guilty cheating lovers calling it quits is a genuine classic.

I mention this as a way to underscore how much resonance music alone can possess. If all the songs on Adam Carroll's Far Away Blues had no vocals, I would still love them to pieces. But what lyrics! Carroll proves that there's something about being based in Austin these days that brings out the best in singer-songwriters.

On Adam Carroll Live in 2002, I was happily surprised to see how funny Carroll was, notably track five about "The King" acting up in public: "Last night I saw Elvis/At the Distant Land's Café/He got drunk and he got rowdy/So the cops took him away/He sang Love Me Tender in the highlight of his day/And now he's singing Jailhouse Rock in Cellblock 7A." Funnier still is "Snow Cone Man," the out of left field, utterly original and impossible to summarize song that lets anyone who hears it know that an original talent has arrived.

The spirited "Alright" kicks off Far Away Blues (Carroll's fourth album) with an assortment of barroom benedictions, and back alley admonitions: "If you're gonna let your deal go down, say alright/The girls in the dance hall late at night say alright/Sailors stumbling for a fight say alright/ Whispering secrets in the night they say alright." The wailing harmonica shows that Carroll is steeped in the folk troubadour tradition. The song is sort of a three minute and four second long pat on the back to people who may not even know they need one. Carroll's gentle philosophy surfaces in last verse with these kind words: "Spotlight shining in the woods alright/Just tell them you did the best you could/And that's alright."

I like the quiet, mandolin-driven next track "Rice Birds" especially this line: "I cannot dance but I can hold on." That's one hell of an observation. It made me wonder if holding on is dancing for people with two left feet. Like many of Carroll's compositions, it's a song of separation from loved ones. That notion is also front and center in track four, "Dream On." Carroll here seems to be leaving America's porch light on for everyone's who lost, lonely and far from where they want to be: "Dream on, dream on, until you find your way back home/It might be along the straightest line or in the twilight zone/It might be a space ship or a UFO/It might be that girl who said she needed you so/Dream on, dream on, you've got love to call your own." As the Republicans seem poised more than ever to certain implosion, I find myself actually thinking about a day when troops finally come home to jump start their shattered lives. And I pray that some of them fighting now hear "Dream On" and it keeps Hope in their hearts. While this track aches like a lost Everly Brothers song, certain sly lines ring out as vintage Carroll: "Dream about mercy, dream about fun/Swimsuit models or Carmelite nuns." Even in an emotional song that can put a tear in your eye, he finds a way to also put a smile on your face.

"Picture Show" describes a guy calling his ex-girlfriend to go out in the evening and insists he has no secret agenda. (I have my doubts.) But his honesty is completely direct when he admits, "Just want to hear your voice/When you're sitting beside me/I hate going to the picture show alone." One can only hope the woman he sings about was as disarmed by this song as most listeners surely were. There's also something else in "Picture Show" worth singling out. When people speculate about what's going to happen years from now, there's often a vision of flying cars, massive buildings and heretofore unimagined technological invention. But sometimes the future arrives considerably less high-tech than those expectations. Did the dreaded 1984 seem any different than 1983? Uh, no. Carroll's lyric here that comes to mind is: "The door to the future always squeaks and moans." What a sweet thought! Everybody has at least one of those doors at home and it's comforting to think they'll still be here further on down the road.

"In Love Song For My Family," Carroll kicks dysfunction to the curb in this ode to various branches on domestic trees. He overcomes the isolation of where he's going by promising to never ignore where he's from: "When the full moon is shining and there's no one around/When the ghosts in the graveyard start getting me down/I'll hold my head high and I will not be still/You know that I need you and I always will/You know that I love you and I always will." There's an Irish flavor here and I could swear I heard bagpipes but it was just a saxophone showing its versatility. Hey, it's probably easier to find session musicians who play saxophone as opposed to that signature Irish instrument that's notoriously tricky to play.

(Before I forget, I should point out that Far Away Blues is lushly produced and beautifully performed. Chalk this up to Carroll's longtime musical partner, multi-instrumentalist and crackerjack producer, Lloyd Maines. He's a giant on the Texas music scene but has been somewhat dwarfed in recent years by the emergence of his daughter, Natalie, in a little band called The Dixie Chicks.)

"Last Day Of Grace" (a duet with Austin legend Ray Wylie Hubbard) and "Peace On Earth" feel like they emerge from the same mindset. Alternately mournful, hopeful and thoughtful, they grapple with big topics like grace, peace, compassion and passion. I won't go into more detail and just let you explore them (and the other tracks I haven't mentioned) on your own. But I will note that these last two songs on the album may cause you to quietly tap your feet and respectfully bow your head.

I only write about twelve albums a year and I'm very happy that 2006 gets started with a bang with this release from 2005 by Adam Carroll. He's a fellow that people who love good music will happily seek out, even if it means standing in long lines to pass through doors that squeak and moan.

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Tony Peyser writes political poems every day for BuzzFlash and draws editorial cartoons twice weekly. His new music column, The Blue State Jukebox, is now a monthly feature for BuzzFlash. Mr. Peyser (who loves referring to himself in the third person) is shamelessly using BuzzFlash as a springboard to help him land his dream job: becoming the new Washington Bureau Chief for Talon News.