Uncle Tupelo - Anodyne

Uncle Tupelo's fourth and final album came out in 1993.  Jay Farrar's country-soaked Slate opens the album, and the prominence of fiddle will tell you what sort of album it is.  At times the country influence is heavy and a bit much (the busy fiddle on Acuff-Rose, the 'honky-tonkiness' of We've Been Had).  Much better is Jeff Tweedy's rocking The Long Cut, a rollicking tune which lurches back and forth in a very pleasing manner.  They get the country just right on Doug Sahm's mid-paced strum Give Back The Key To My Heart, Sahm providing vocals and songwriting.  The countrified REM influence comes through on Tweedy's New Madrid, and soaring steel guitars lift the title track from mediocrity.  Farrar's contributions generally have more of a country feel than Tweedy's, with cry-in-your-beer High Water a prime example.  Whereas when Tweedy does the steel guitar laced No Sense In Lovin', he ups the tempo, taking it out of traditional country territory.

The problem with an album like this is it's more an album to admire, considering its influence, than to truly love.

Uncle Tupelo - Still Feel Gone

Uncle Tupelo was one of the original 'alt-country' bands, formed in the late eighties at a time when country music was neither 'alternative' nor cool.  Including both Jay Farrar (of Son Volt) and Jeff Tweedy (of Wilco), their hard rocking second album Still Feel Gone came out in 1991.  Listening to it now, it holds up pretty well, opening up with Gun which definitely leans more on the rock than country.  Looking For a Way Out is a slice of a kind of countrified Crazy Horse, while Fall Down Easy's mandolin midway through has echoes of REM.  The sparse, country strum Still Be Around is a fine track, complete with lyrics like "with the bible is a bottle".  On the other the pounding, lurching Postcard displays a fine grasp of guitar dynamics, particularly the 'don't give a f**k' solo midway through.  Although the album tapers off a little towards the end, it ends with the downcast If That's Alright, a perfect doing-nothing-staring-out-of-the-window type song.

Certainly if you like your country a bit on the rough and unpolished side this one is essential.

Album Review: Richmond Fontaine - We Used to Think The Freeway Sounded Like A River

Richmond Fontaine are a sort of "alt-country" band and have been going since the mid 90s. Largely the vision of singer, frontman and main songwriter Willy Vlautin, they have 7 previous albums under the belt. Vlautin ia also a published author and his songs, like his accomplished novels, are largely downbeat, focusing on drifters, deadbeats and losers trying to find their way out of desperate situations.

Vlautin's voice can grate a bit and some of the overtly country songs I can take or leave. One of the main problems with some Richmond Fontaine songs is they work well as stories but feel forced into songs with the music grafted on. Vlautin is, however, an excellent story-teller (his 2nd novel, Northline is a must-read).

This album opens with the title track, a gentle song, very relaxed where he depicts a crummy lifestyle, where they lived next to an abandoned house with a broken pool full of shopping carts, and they pretended it was their swimming pool. After a short instrumental (Northwest), there follows one of their more upbeat songs, You Can Move Back Here, which sounds a little like REM. This is followed by the unsettling The Boyfriends, where the protagonists realises his new girl has a child, and he imagines how the kids feel, all to the accompaniment of a sad mariachi trumpet.

The Pull is an another sad story delivered over relatively quiet backing, and is followed by a barely audible instrumental. Maybe We Were Both Born Blue is, despite the title, one of the more upbeat numbers with a kind of wistful countryish backing. Watch Out is another quiet song, consisting mainly of Vlautin whispering 'watch out' but the next track 43 is more intense, possibly the most intense on the album.

Lonnie is as close as they have come yet to mainstream rock, while towards the end of the album Two Alone is another intense moment, with a simple but driving melody. The final track, A Letter to the Patron Saint of Nurses (great title) is a spoken word piece over a quiet backing which is surprisingly effective.

Overall this won't convert anyone, but is a good addition for fans of their music.