Welcome 2 Club XIII
Drive-By Truckers
Welcome 2 Club XIII
ATO Records
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I wish I could say that I’ve been riding with the Drive-By Truckers since they initially fueled up, but I’m a stickler for accuracy, and I know they’d been at it for at least a couple of years before I got onboard. I was initially scared of their name. And the names of their albums. Thought they were a joke band. They were performing in the parking lot of a college pizza (neé cheap beer) joint when I finally got it. Felt like I’d been run over by an 18-wheel… well, you get the picture. The joke, as it turns out, was on me. So there.

I hitched up in the Pizza Deliverance era. (See what I mean?) It came out in 1999, but we’re here to talk about Welcome 2 Club XIII from the Summer of 2022. (I almost had an aneurysm when I saw the “2” in the title, thought they’d finally crossed a line, but the whole thing is given a valid explanation in Patterson Hood’s liners, which are always required reading.) That’s 23 years of Drive-By Trucking for this guy. I’ve seen a lot of changes in and around the band, from their members to their sound to the industry within which they work, but the quality of the output has never faltered.

I’ve watched the whole gang evolve into one of the legitimately baddest live fireball bands around, then mellow into a professional outfit that could groove your saloon or rock your concert hall with equal aplomb. I’ve studied their sly commentary on topics both whimsical and profound. Learned every word to their Rock Opera, but I’d never known them to write so directly about their own history as they do on Club XIII. Tales of rude bartenders and indifferent audiences. Long road trips sprinkled with and splintered by challenges related to weather, mechanical concerns, and hangovers. Lots of losses, big and bigger. Much of it with more than a dash of that humor I was so scared of as a kid…

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But I’m frightened no more. Nor am I as awestruck as I once was. Rarely do I run a record back as repeatedly and for as long as I did during my Great Age(s) of Discovery. Maybe I’m not as excitable as I was, or maybe I just have more to do. Regardless, the era of playing one record on repeat for an entire Summer seems past. The DBTs inspired such behaviors more than once, and they’re still capable, but their entire approach seems geared more towards responsible consumption than it was in that parking lot.

“The Driver” is a Club XIII highlight and is given preferential placement as the album opener it deserves to be. It’s got the dark lyrical underbelly that some of us need so desperately to stay sane in 2022, and musically nods to some of the Arena Rock that the band members grew up on. Sort of a syrupy swim through “Barracuda” waters. The title track is a good-time rave-up about trying to keep an audience’s attention while playing original compositions as opposed to, you know, the preferred Foghat covers. It plays like a limerick set to Rock Music.

I wince a bit when the idols of my youth play songs about their “Wilder Days,” but the Truckers pull it off. Pete Townsend once advised the Rolling Stones to avoid aging gracefully (“it would not suit you”), but the rest of us should at least try. For the Truckers, that looks like more melody and less muscle. By now, their music is as engaging and memorable as their lyrics always have been. There’s nothing on Club XIII that’s going to cause me to quit my job, and winch my car to the band’s tour bus, but that’s just not how I do it anymore. It’s not 1999, and I’m not 25 years old. I need for at least some of my records to have their way with me, then leave me alone until I’m ready to circle back for another listen. I can’t spend all night head banging; it hurts my neck.

Club XIII will be welcoming me back for repeat listens, and that’s all I need from it at this stage of the game. It might not be the best place to start for a new club inductee, but it’s a sensible place to wind up. Mastering and production are top notch, unfortunately the pressing doesn’t measure up. You might be able to skate by with a digital version if you’re short on space. I, obviously, wouldn’t dream of it. I’m a quarter of a century into an irresponsible bender, which resulted in a complete DBT vinyl collection. Too late to pull over now. Next rest stop is never…

Honky Tonk Heroes
Waylon Jennings
Honky Tonk Heroes
RCA (Vinyl Me, Please)
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I gotta tip my (cowboy, in this instance) hat to the folks at Vinyl Me, Please. I’ve experienced a lifetime’s worth of frustration as a member of their little club, cancelled my membership more than once, suffered a million vinyl indignities, and – somehow – I’ve re-enlisted for more. That’s a testament to… probably their marketing department, honestly, but also their business model (which is a gas to engage with) and the ultimate quality of their releases.

If those folks send you a warped or defective record, and you let them know about it, they’ll send you a replacement. Often also warped or defective, but they’ll repeat the process until they get it right. Within reason. I don’t make this information public to inspire any bad actors to take advantage of the company’s kindness. That would suck. But you won’t often get that level of service from other retailers, and I think folks should know that. On second thought, that seems to be changing too. Vinyl collecting seems less like the Wild West than it did a few years ago when a buyer had no means for redressing an insulting purchase. It used to be just “too bad, this hobby comes with risks.” Now, vendors are a little more responsive. Just not to the extent that VMP is. Anyway, here’s this…

I rejoined the Classics track for a monthly Jazz/Soul fix, and I added their Country Record of the Month to my most recent shipment too. I’d never heard the first note of Waylon’s Honky Tonk Heroes before buying. I still like surprises. I figured it would be great as most of the songs were written by Billy Joe Shaver (RIP), the lacquers were cut all-analog from the original master tapes by Ryan K. Smith, and the songs are sung by… Waylon. Home run, team. Deep into the upper deck. Really exciting in a sneaky sort of way.

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I say that because the music is not ostentatious. I love Waylon and Willie and the Gang, but there are limits. I get a little burnt with the lyrical turns of phrase, and certainly the production values from Outlaw Country’s prime era. Too slick. Too cute. Too much of everything. And the movement birthed a vile monster that still rampages across the airwaves today. Honky Tonk Heroes slid through the saloon doors a little more quietly. Like a smiling assassin. Or a smirking one.

I swear I wrote the above before reading the booklet that VMP included with this release, but it’s all in there. Seems that this was Waylon taking the reins. Deliberately moving away from the rote sounds of the day towards something closer to his own. I’m not a fan of symphonic accompaniment, in general, and I perked up right away when I heard the strings on the record’s last tune, “We Had It All.” It’s the weakest song here, and it’s the one that’s promoted on the front cover. Swing and a miss.

The rest is brilliant. There’s humor, of course, but it’s always in the service of the song. It’s not the main event. The title song starts at a sparse simmer before the Country Funk sets in. An actual backbeat with some greasy guitar lines that could make Jim Ford smile (and likely did). “Ain’t No God In Mexico” stands out as a well-crafted song that should appeal to intellectuals and rough necks too. That’s the sort of tight rope that Honky Tonk Heroes walks across its entire run time. The kind of thing that Republicans and Democrats might actually be able to agree on. That’s probably hyperbole by now, but y’all know what I’m getting at.

Heroes found us in advance of the more tiresome varieties of Country to come. It’s a perfect concoction that would soon be mass produced with added sugar and a bunch of unnatural preservatives, but you can forget all that while spinning this. VMP did a great job with it. My copy is almost entirely flat with only hints of surface noise in spots. No loud pops or ticks to get in your way. No repeatable indignities. Any reasonable listener will approve. I got a good one on the first swing. And I’m hoping for similar results from Dizzy Gillespie’s Afro, this month’s Classics release.

VMP is opening their own pressing plant in Denver soon. It’ll be interesting to see (hear) how it goes, and whether or not some of the label’s quality control issues are resolved this way. They have some big names attached to the project so I’m hopeful. In the meantime, belly up to the Honky Tonk and enjoy these sounds. It likely won’t get much better than this.

Moment of Truth
Gerald Wilson Big Band
Moment of Truth
Pacific Jazz / Blue Note (Tone Poet Series)
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Full disclosure: record collecting has gotten rough over the last few years. Much of that is tied up with production delays. “Supply chain issues.” Etcetera. Some of it is due to an influx of releases that I’m completely disinterested in. Or millions of “variants” of a single release. “Galaxy cotton candy sparkle” versus “orange Lucifer ablaze splatter?” Which one should I get??!! But mostly, I’ve been turned off by the quality of the end product. I’m tired of warped and noisy records. It takes experience, tons of trial and error, to develop a feel for when it’s safe to buy. Lots of research that most folks aren’t interested in doing.

One of the best ways I’ve found to come as close as possible to ensuring the reception of a quality product is to pay attention to certain series of releases. The Beatles mono reissue series was stellar. I jumped on every title that I had a passing interest in once I’d heard how well the first couple came out. The Acoustic Sounds series consistently turns out flawlessly pressed and well-mastered vinyl releases. Tone Poet too. For whatever reason, a large percentage of the highest quality releases are specific to the Jazz genre. Maybe the Jazzers did the best job of maintaining the quality of, and access to, the original tapes. Maybe Jazz fans aren’t as easily fooled as the Rockers are, and the Jazz oriented reissue companies just try harder. Regardless, if you love Jazz, it’s actually a banner time to collect.

I wasn’t familiar with Gerald Wilson’s name when I saw him on the Tone Poet docket a while back, but I’ve been really enjoying collecting some Big Band stuff recently. I also knew that Kevin Gray would be in charge of making sure the sonics were right and that RTI would press the discs, so I just sallied forth assuming that I’d like what I heard when I dropped the needle. And…

I do. Very much. Moment of Truth isn’t really what I think of when I consider “Big Band Music,” but I love it. I was surprised by the focus and location of the guitar as an instrument within the ensemble. It’s way out front for much of the record’s run time, which makes more sense when you realize that Joe Pass is working the frets. (He has his own Tone Poet release, which is readily available in what’s left of 2022’s Summer season.) In fact, his was the only name that I recognized in any of the players’ credits. And it’s easier to stand out when you’re the lone purveyor of a specific instrument’s sound. I have no way of knowing which of the four trombonists is soloing at any given time, but that’s not really my concern. I come to the Big Band show to see a bunch of players move as a single organism. And Wilson’s arrangements give the players plenty of time to shine, certainly.

These recordings were made in 1962, so we’re already well outside the window of the Big Band heyday. It makes sense that these songs would sound more modern than what one would expect from Ellington’s or Basie’s most well-known compositions and recordings, for example. Still, the energy remains high and the sections of musicians still converse with the others in a way that is uplifting and fun. Hearing a bunch of trumpets talking to some saxes is, almost by definition, a good time given that the players are up to the task.

And all available roles and responsibilities are executed with class and enough restraint to avoid stepping on toes or losing notes in a sea of sound. “Moment of Truth” has some especially impressive swells that resolve into the more swinging sections, which creates a lot of satisfying instances of tension and release. “Patterns” has some of the more traditional call and response amongst the players that is a hallmark of the traditional Big Band sound. The cover of Davis’s “Milestones” presents an interesting counterpoint to the versions that most of us are most familiar with.

All of that across a soundstage that is, while not especially wide, remarkably deep and roomy. The original recording reveals lots of detail, and Kevin Gray makes sure to present that in the most flattering light. Reeds drift up out of a silent floor, the piano sparkles, and the drums are distinct and solid, enough to hold up the ensemble’s considerable weight. My pressing is flawless.

None of the Tone Poet titles are “out of print,” exactly, but many are “awaiting repress.” I wouldn’t wait around. If you’re having a hard time separating the vinyl wheat from the chafe, you can be assured that lots of flavor resides in the Tone Poet grooves. Across the board. Fear not. Act now.