Hard-Headed Act to Follow: The Wanda Jackson tribute is every bit as good as can be expected.

The insurgent Country paean to the queen of Rockabilly and ‘50s master of all things innovative, tough, female, and rocking runs the gamut. Generally speaking, cover collections tend to be mish-mashy. Usually, a few songs are studious reinterpretations, a few are loosely inspired by the legend’s sound, and most fall somewhere in between. But Hard-Headed Woman: a Celebration of Wanda Jackson stays interesting throughout; the iconoclastic nature of Chicago’s Bloodshot label—and by extension, its artists—keeps everything fresh.

Flash back to Austin’s South by Southwest Music Festival in 2002. Kristi Rose (who appears on this collection) and Bloodshot owner Rob Miller sit on a panel with Wanda Jackson and Holly George Warren. Documentary filmmaker Beth Harrington, the eventual producer of Hard-Headed Woman (fresh off directing a film on undiscovered female artists) trumpets Jackson’s music and “my way or no way” attitude as a precursor to the punk, psychobilly, and riot grrl movements. Japan’s all-female all-ukulele Petty Booka rave about the popularity of Jackson’s “Fujiyama Mama” among Rock’s intelligentsia back in Japan. The audience and panel fire back and forth about how Wanda’s music signifies the visceral in music, the triumph of the gut over calculation and marketing.

The resulting Hard-Headed Woman: a Celebration of Wanda Jackson does its best to laud this unsung hero. Let’s begin with Rockabilly star Rosie Flores, the woman who pulled Jackson out of retirement in 1996. Flores, who describes Wanda as “the First Woman of Rock & Roll, not a sassed-up little girl”, said that Jackson greatly inspired her career. Rosie’s version of “In the Middle of a Heartache” delivers the goods with the love and precision that could only come from a truly like mind.

Indeed, like minds dominate this 21-track collection. But as could be expected, the artists grow on Jackson’s work. Laura Cantrell, a true champion of underground Country as host of New Jersey station WFMU’s Radio Thriftshop”, holds that Wanda was “Country’s first rebellious teenage girl and grew into one of the music’s most sophisticated, worldly performers.” Cantrell’s version of “Wasted” is sweetly accurate and puts Cantrell’s money where her mouth is.

Like “Wasted,” much of Hard-Headed Woman falls in line with the originals. Carolyn Mark’s “Hot Dog, that Made Him Mad” coupled by “Brown-Eyed Handsome Man” (from Mark’s Corn Sister and fellow music scholar Neko Case), make a strong case for eschewing persona and simply embodying Jackson for homage. Wayne “The Train” Hancock adds horns and a wonderful steel guitar to Jackson’s biggest tune, “Let’s Have a Party.” The Ranch Girls straddle the line between a straight cover of “If You Don’t Somebody Else Will” and a vital defiance due in equal parts to the subject matter and their Dutch origin.

The clear-cut cover can be less inspired, relegating the performer to cipher and turning the wild raucous original to understated background. Jesse Dayton’s “Both Sides of the Line” is one example on this album. For the most part though, Jackson’s independent spirit dominates the proceedings. Nora O’Connor’s charming “Sticks and Stones” is saved from stickiness by Andrew Bird’s fiery fiddling. Candye Kane, Kelly Hogan, and Kim Lenz pepper their takes on Jackson’s tunes with sprinkles of Blues Rock, Jazz, and Doo-Wop. Robbie Fulks’s “Tears at the Grand Ol’ Opry” balances his own scholarly reinterpretation with the Country genuineness his admirers have come to expect. Bloodshot MVP John Rice’s fiddle and steel-guitar expressions of regret and resignation add loving service to Fulk’s version of the tune.

Homage can have some strange elements, and this album is no exception. But some of the covers are confidently, joyously bizarre--and exceptional because of it. Trailer Bride transforms “Fujiyama Mama” into a grim gothic stomp. Trailer Bride lead singer Melissa Swingle’s appropriately deadpan vocals and pounding organ lend existential angst to “drank a quart of whiskey/smoked on a pipe/chased it with tobaccy/then shot out the light.” This brilliant reinterpretation highlights and signifies a new beginning for Jackson.

Wanda Jackson is in renaissance. She currently tours and records; the likes of Elvis Costello, Dave Alvin, The Cramps, and half the Bloodshot roster have all backed her. Last fall’s sold-out show at Martyr’s showcased a woman in her middle years comfortably enjoying adulation from fans of Rock, Rockabilly, and Country--including local Country masters like guitarist Joel Paterson and drummer Kevin O’Donnell. The allure of this role model for female Rockers, whose fringe shimmy once attracted Elvis’s revelatory crotch for a brief fling way back, has also grown. Her confidence was so bold that chilly fall evening that local organist Scott Ligon had to step off stage briefly to smooch his girlfriend, just to assure himself that Wanda’s flirting was innocent. 

 

The Devil with You!: Chicago’s Devil in a Woodpile play virtually constantly; their new record embodies this nicely.

At Devil in a Woodpile’s weekly Tuesday gig at The Hideout, atmosphere and situation dominate. Front man Rick Cookin’ Sherry yelps in Appalachian, strums at the washboard, and wheezes through harmonica and clarinet, Tom V. Ray whacks the upright bass, Joel Paterson strums the frets (adding occasional background vocals and kazoo) while others occasionally sit in with the odd tuba. Soaking in the atmosphere of a juke joint of the old South or hoedown in an old mountain town, guests feel welcomed to an unusual yet timeless show.

Let’s reconcile this music with the present. Look at that CD player. You know, the one that usually houses either an old favorite or some novelty you’ve been suckered into buying. Toss aside that ELO or Libertines disc in favor of Devil’s brand new In Your Lonesome Town. Now shut those jaded Rock fan eyes and let the imagination run loose.

Sherry’s harmonica chug-a-lugs Sonny Terry’s raucous “A Long Way from Home” into your jaded grey matter. Whack! It collides with Charley Patton’s eminently singable “Shake it and Break It.” You phase in and out. Pure showcase for Paterson’s folk Blues guitar, “Beer Ticket Rag” evokes the earthy feeling and mossy freshness the title implies and his trades with Sherry’s washboard musically affirm. Clarinet and tuba wind throughout the dreamy “Louisiana Fairytale.” The whole affair ends with Big Bill Broonzy’s strutting yet unperturbed, “When I’m Drinkin’”.

Therein lies In Your Lonesome Town’s trouble and merit. The LP really does make soothing background music. As a collection of sharply-chosen Blues covers performed with acoustic zeal, Devil in a Woodpile’s third record makes for a truly admirable accomplishment. It also invariably fades slowly backward, which is just the thing for any conversation among fans of roots music and the open-minded alike.

Devil in a Woodpile In Your Lonesome Town, 7.1/10, released 3/8/05. Devil in a Woodpile appear every Tuesday at The Hideout. devilinawoodpile.com.

 

Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now: Kansas City’s Rex Hobart & the Misery Boys play it straight and great.

Rex Hobart and the Misery Boys’ new Empty House runs through the range of emotions: the hope of “The Good Ain’t Gone”, the despair of “Every Night I Leave You in My Mind”, the cruelty of “It Won’t Be Long (And I’ll Be Hating You)” and the sensitivity of “I Just Lost My Mind.” The music speaks volumes; with an artist of Hobart’s caliber, complexity binds a seemingly simple package.

Rex Hobart works in a direct, classic, honky-tonk manner. As plain as an Alan Jackson, but as richly ominous as the Johnny Paycheck he covers in “Hating You,” Hobart also brings to mind the frankness of George Jones, the brutal honesty of Merle Haggard, and even the wobbly logic of Kris Kristofferson. He displays depth and skill in telling mournful tales of loves lost, chances missed, and melancholy triumphant.

T.C. Dobbs’ heart-stutter drums, Blackjack Snow’s plodding bass, J.B. Morris’ communicative guitar, and Solomon Hofer’s atmospheric pedal steel and dobro come together in the solid, sensitive, appropriately-named Misery Boys. No kitsch, put-on, or flirtation with darkness, Hobart is all about the tune, the persona, and the music, not the image…dealing with the grief, not denial.

Stories figure heavily throughout Empty House in disarmingly honest tunes like the crisply rendered “I Don’t Like that Mirror,” a lament on a trip taken to see how an ex is faring after he blew his chance with her. Hobart curses himself as a “fool who aimed to kill love/because he couldn’t feel love…now he does.”

Other tunes find old Rex (truly sounding like a close friend the moment the album begins) in a variety of places but in a consistently dejected mood. Witness Hobart confiding to a bartender that he has a “Heartache to Hide,” backed by the most seductive hook this side of Clint Black. The song is every bit as catchy, but more akin to the gold that dross rubbed off of, more in line with Buck than Brooks.

Rex Hobart sounds accomplished for a man with only four albums under his belt. In addition to bringing a soulful new voice to a rock-solid old form, he has obviously learned a thing or two along the way while earning opening slots for Junior Brown, Fugazi, Ween, and David Allen Coe. Hobart and the boys have been nominated for band of the year, best musician, and best male vocalist for the Kansas City Lawrence-Area Music Awards. Chicago’s Bloodshot must feel proud to house his estimable talents. More to come, for Empty House marks a triumph for Hobart, his band, and Country music as a whole.

Rex Hobart and the Misery Boys Empty House 9.3/10, released 2/22/05. rexhobart.com.