The Sub Pop tie-in is a horse of crimson hue, for The Walkabouts owe as much to Jim Webb and Lee Hazlewood or even Fairport Convention as they do to Mudhoney. Here is a punky American folk band with no silly tales of drinking and waking up married to the wrong woman. They do it in quite an ingenious way: they use fiddle, mandolin and accordion with a resolutely scummy rhythm guitar, to create a sound that doesn't exist anywhere else, but which maybe suggests Cowboy Junkies doing '77 punk covers. They give an epic feel to their explosive songs, and when they stretch out, as when Carla Torgerson's hyper-folky voice and Chris Eckman's whispery snarl negotiate the Americana tragedies of 'Grand Theft Auto' and 'Glad Nation's Death Song,' they most definitely cut a rug. (4 star rating)
At first glance, it's natural to see 'New West Motel' as a retrograde step for the Walkabouts. Their last album, 'Scavenger,' was by far their most accessible record, with a name producer, guest shots from well-known musicians, and a glossy sheen covering some of the best songs the band has ever written. 'New West Motel' is self-produced (with long-time cohort Ed Brooks), lacks any famous guest names, and isn't even currently available in America, being released by Sub Pop only in Europe. If there's anything to be learned about the Walkabouts, however, it's that first glances rarely tell the true story.
'New West Motel' marks the debut of two new members, Terri Moeller (taking over for founding member Grant Eckman), and violinist Bruce Wirth. Wirth gives the band even more instrumental variety; indeed, it's hard to think of an instrument that someone in the Walkabouts can't play. That dexterity comes in handy - if 'Sundowner' clips along like a wild mustang, 'Snake Mountain Blues' hits with the power of a Union Pacific 4-12-2 climbing the Snake River Valley.
If Chris Eckman's lyrics have grown more direct over the years, they're no less enigmatic or dark - the innocents (and not-so-innocents) in his songs often have no clue of the reasons for what is happening to them. 'Jack Candy,' the opener and European single, sets the tone, Carla Torgerson's strong vocal lamenting the loss of a not-quite-lover in shady circumstances. 'Grand Theft Auto' is something else entirely - along with Mudhoney's 'Overblown,' it's the ultimate comment on Seattle's music scene.
'Scavenger' was such a strong album that it's hard to say that 'New West Motel' stands as the Walkabouts' best. But I suspect that this wonderful record is much closer to their idea of what their best record would sound like
Grungey Neil Young (a scorching version of 'Like A Hurricane' is included) crossed with Lone Justice. This double album roams from unfettered raging guitar
energy to melancholic desert country, from the blistering 'Grand Theft Auto' to
the aching plaintive 'Unholy Dreams' by the way of a loping cover of Townes Van
Zandt's 'Snake Mountain Blues' and Tom Waits 'Yesterday Is Here'. Singer
Chris Eckman's own songs stand up well in the company (especially 'Jack Candy'
and 'Glad Nation's Death Song') and the shared vocals with the yearning
voice of Carla Torgerson underlines the band's musical dichotomies, enhanced
further by the effective use of lap steel, violin and mandolin. Well worth checking in.
The Walkabouts actually come from Seattle, but their cowboy bluesy rock stylings and old Western narratives pitch them far closer to Antipodeans The Triffids and Crime & The City Solution than anything from the state's punk explosion.
On a cool desert highway, a stage coach rhythm drives you towards the destination, the not-so New West Motel. An inaudible whipcrack drives the wagon wheels of 'Sundowner' across the ruts of the lost continent.
Perhaps Bruce Wirth's violin motifs will be the basis for some crusty interest, or maybe Chris Eckman's six-string derivation of Tom Verlaine on 'Break It Down Gently' will draw in a few ghostly Television fans. Otherwise, it's difficult to imagine too many advance bookings for a place that you can check out of anytime you like but you may find it very hard to leave.