Boney Earnest's Suburban Hilltop Tent Revue

Friday, September 22, 2006 ... 1:07 PM

Old Crow and the new Machine

David Rawlings is touring Nebraska right now, backed by Gillian Welch. They bill themselves as The ~~David~~ Dave Rawlings Machine, playing unlikely covers at small venues on short notice. As far as I can tell, the act premiered last month at the Newport Folk Festival, and picked up steam when, driving home from Rhode Island, the duo made an impromptu stop in Charlottesville, VA.

By descriptions at Whiskey Girl, it sounds not dissimilar to the loose rocknroll shows Dave & Gil give from time to time as the Esquires, joined apparently by whatever friends are game that night -- including at times Buddy Miller and Ryan Adams. I've got a boot of one of the Esquires shows, and it sounds ... well, very drunk, frankly. But I've also heard these two back Buddy Miller on early rocknroll tunes -- Gillian on electric bass and Dave strangling a Strat -- and it burned like kerosene. They ought to bust out the electricity more often. Their talents so transcend the brother-act-steeped acoustic sets that we all love, I'm never disappointed to hear the way the leaves quake when they branch out.

There's a ~~David~~ Dave Rawlings Machine page at myspace, but you're on your own there. That place creeps me out. Not only because of the meat market vibe, but because it disenchants to see that my folk country rock n blues music heroes spend as much time plopped on their asses in front of a Dell LCD as cubicle slaves like you and I do. It's like the Vatican II; myspace demystifies the religion.

Meanwhile, I've been listening to the new Rawlings-produced CD by Old Crow Medicine Show, Big Iron World. It plays to me as a somehow unironic po-mo tour of country musics past. I hear jug band stomp in "Cocaine Habit," a dose of hokum on the trainride/sexride romp "New Virginia Creeper", and the talkie honky-tonk of "Let It Alone" reminds me of the Foley-Tubb duets of the 50s.

Rawlings unfolds his flat-picking beneath the melancholy "My Good Gal" and, predictably, his preternatural conversance with rhythm and harmony lights fathoms beneath what otherwise might come across as "Oh, Another Murder Ballad." As a producer on the slower tunes, he draws what feels like old bruises to the skin of this party band. Hot fiddle tunes, which drive the Crows' live act, figure sparsely here. Which suits me fine; I like when these guys get moody. Gillian Welch brushes a snare here and there, and even taps on a trap kit for the very Harvest-esque "Don't Ride That Horse". Undertoes stir throughout, even on the upbeat tunes, suggesting without flaunting the kind of spiritual desolation that leads folks to religion or social revolution.

It's not the best CD I've heard this year, but as a followup to the rowdyish (and pretty terrific) O.C.M.S., it shows maturity and startling diversity.

Brendan

1 Comments:

Hey Celine, thanks for linking me first. Seeing all the goings-on discussed on your blog makes me miss Nashville. Though when I lived there I was too poor to go much of anywhere.

Slick and overproduced, you think really? I haven't heard any recordings before OCMS, but the Dave-produced CDs sound pretty rugged around the edges to me. It's hi-fi for sure, but vintage hi-fi. The subdued high frequencies and tubey midrange give it a sort of woody overall quality. You can often hear the microphone itself responding to Ketch's voice specifically, which is a raw sort of sound that's filtered of typical label-budget recordings. The sound is less bright and crystalline, I guess, than what I think of as slick studio output. Compare with, say, Union Station.

I've seen Old Crow a few times, and they are pretty feral onstage, but I like that they hold back some fire on the albums so that the energy still smacks you like a hurricane when you hear them up close. And, really, all those breakneck fiddle tunes bleed together for me in the same way that most punk music does. I like the tenderer melodic side that Dave fosters in the studio. The intricate arrangements I think highlight the guys' individual talents more than their fireball live approach is capable of.

By Brendan, at 9/25/2006 1:04 PM