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It's not easy to be an American band at home, even -especially- if you're so obviously a product of mythical, musical Americana. Thus the delicate, darkhearted fifth LP from these Seattleites, an all-covers set, is out only in Europe.
Satisfied Mind is an astonishing night-storm of small-town legends and savage country soul, passed along with majestic folk instrumentation in a forlorn voice. It lays bare its makers as much as its authors, setting them in a myriad of traditions while simmering with fierce individualism. In fact, it's practically a genealogy of the Walkabouts and other bands like them, musicians whose roots include John Cale, Patti Smith, and Nick Cave as well as Pee Wee Maddux, Maybelle Carter, and Johnny Rivers.
Serendipitously, the record ends with two wearily beautiful, complimentarily titled ballads: Charlie Rich's "Feel Like Going Home" (with guest vox from Mark Lanegan) and the traditional "Will You Miss Me When I'm Gone." With a record this remarkable failing to act out the former sentiment, it's clear the answer to the question of the second is already a resounding "Yes."
In which The Walkabouts, the only Seattle band which could comfortably have existed not just 20, but I00 years ago, plunder their treasure chest, tip their hats (not necessarily Stetsons, mind) and breathe new life into songs that have grabbed them over the years.
As Chris Eckman explains in his inimitably homely way on the sleeve notes: "Some were found stacked in the back of the closet, and others were found lying in the middle of the floor." Which just goes to show that sometimes it's better not to do the housework. As for being homely, let's not forget that Chris met Carla Torgerson when they were both working at a salmon canning factory in Alaska.
Out-authentic that, city boy!
The honors list here is surprising diverse - Nick Cave, John Cale, Charlie Rich, Mary Margaret O'Hara - but the sound is of a piece, a limber, soulful mooch through tradition. There's precious little of the irksome hey-diddle-diddle village fete side of country; only "Shelter For An Evening" is a little too yee-how! for my orthodox urban liking. Maybe.
The good bits - and there are a few - are sober, mournful and sickly unsettling. And Chris Eckman sounds like The Voice of Doom. He fills "Poor Side of Town" (in which he welcomes back the woman who left him for a callous rich man) with tenderness and regret; he can't blame her for what she's done, he just wants to know if she'll stay this time. Love and lucre show up again in the dreams of the guy in "Free Money," in a version so hopeless that Patti Smith (who wrote it) would be proud.
This being a Walkabouts record, there's the inevitable crime of passion scenario, "Love's Crime,'" in this case - man surprises his love with another man, man kills both, man's heart is filled with grief and sadness. There's a dangerous undertow to "Loom of the Land," where Carla's voice has a calm, not quite human stillness, and a heartbreakingly lonesome harmonica on Robert Forster's "The River People" that becomes quite insidious.
As all this acoustic, Peter-Buck-on-Black-Mountain-dulcimer, singer-songwriter stuff is coming back into fashion, this is as good a time as any to widen your horizons. These guys are, after all, the fogies of the future, and few do this classic American music thing better.
The Walkabouts are one of those oddities, better known in Europe
than at home in America. In fact, it's been some time since they had an
album out in America. This, an import with domestic distribution, may
not exactly redress the balance, but it's a start. They're best known as
a rock band, but they've always had a strong folky side. Even so, this
is quite a sidestep, a mostly acoustic collection of covers, ranging from
Nick Cave to the Carter Family. After the claustrophobic intensity of
New West Motel, their last record, it has a relaxed, spacious feel, a
sense of breathing and regrouping. Some famous (Peter Buck) and
not-so-famous names help out, but they're icing on the cake. The
Walkabouts do just fine on their own, giving the arrangements a
subtlety and hush that focuses the power of the lyrics.
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