I may have mentioned that I love a challenge, but here’s one that I wasn’t expecting. I’ve never reviewed a triple album (bought a few in the vinyl era). Before The Clash released ‘Sandinista!’, the triple album was mainly a prog phenomenon with bands like Yes and Emerson, Lake and Palmer using the format for extended instrumental workouts. The Clash brought it all back to basics with a classic six songs per side over six sides. Jeb Barry’s Pawn Shop Saints have taken the Clash’s value for money concept even further with fifteen tracks per album – the maths is easy, it’s forty-five songs. Sensibly enough, it’s a digital-only release to download or stream.
The project started just after 2023’s ‘Weeds’ album was completed and pulls together songs that were written over a period of twenty years or so. ’45 American Lies’ is a bit of a tidy-up operation; you have a stack of forty-five songs that you’ve gathered over the years that didn’t quite fit in on any previous albums but you think they have value so why not record them and get them all out there at the same time. The recording process was all about getting the songs recorded with a maximum of speed and a minimum of studio trickery. There’s a lot of material here and the common factors are Jeb Barry’s classic songwriting and his high lonesome voice. He’s not expecting everyone to like every song on the album (do you know anyone who likes every song on ‘Sandinista!’?), but he’s quite happy if you dip in and find a couple that you like from the smorgasbord on offer.
For what it’s worth, my favourites after a couple of listens (and that could easily change after another listen) are ‘Liverpool’, a story of everyday male sexual jealousy, ‘Cottonwood’ and ‘Repo Man’ on the familiar Jeb Barry theme of the destruction of rural communities and ‘Heading to Parchman’, the story of a doomed relationship that culminates in twenty to life in Mississippi State Penitentiary, which has a rich history in popular song, including Hannah Aldridge’s 2014 classic, ‘Parchman’.
It’s a bit of a long shift listening to the whole piece, but if you like quality Americana, then you’ll find something for you in this collection.
’45 American Lies’ is out now on Dollyrocker Records.
Here’s an acoustic video of ‘Cottonwood’:
Paddy McAloon described the working title of his 1990 Prefab Sprout masterpiece ‘Jordan: The Comeback’ as ‘Death and Elvis’. Jeb Barry could have had a working title of ‘Death and Death’ for his third pandemic album ‘Weeds’. Jeb’s inclination is naturally towards the melancholic and the album centres around the impact of COVID and the impact of the death of John Prine in particular, so don’t expect too many laughs. The songs are beautifully constructed miniatures with sparse arrangements built around acoustic guitar and bass with additional colour from occasional accordion, banjo, harmonica and fiddle solos and fills. The production, co-helmed with long-time collaborator Josh Pisano has a very organic live folk feel, keeping Jeb’s vocal front and centre and sometimes doubled up to reinforce its plaintive, keening quality. Across the album, Jeb’s voice emphasises and accentuates the painful subjects of the songs.
The opening song on ‘Weeds’ is almost cheerful in that it’s only about a break-up rather than a death. It’s the album’s obligatory Big Star-ish song and comes complete with an accordion solo; from there on, things get a bit darker, apart from the slide guitar-punctuated title song which talks about the metaphorical weeds we trip over before the song turns to positivity with angels watching over us.
Most of Jeb Barry’s songs are Carver-style vignettes, picking up on small events in people’s everyday lives. The death of ‘Miss June’ echoes the lonely death of the more famous ‘Eleanor Rigby’, while ‘Preacher’ and ‘All Girls Break Hearts’ are fairly straightforward stories of broken romances. The really punchy songs for me on ‘Weeds’ are the ones where personal stories are intertwined with social or political themes.
‘The COVID Unit’ combines the idea of losing people to the virus with the selfishness or stupidity of people refusing to wear masks over a mid-tempo country rock arrangement while ‘Generation Lockdown uses a similar styling to combine themes of lockdown and its impacts with the other American virus of school shootings, which is particularly relevant as Jeb’s day job is teaching high school. There’s a gentle power in every song on the album; ‘The War’ is an exploration of PTSD, ‘James’ deals with coping with the untimely death of an old friend, while ‘Twine’, a song about barely holding things together, is a tribute to John Prine.
Jeb Barry describes ‘Seeds’ as his folk album. The arrangements are mainly traditional string band stylings and there are elements of protest in the songs as well. There are many fascinating stories, all sung in Jeb’s laconic, fragile high tenor with arrangements that rely on feel and skill rather than power and clever studio techniques. It’s organic without descending into lo-fi territory. Every song fits in neatly, even the singalong (shoutalong?) simplicity of ‘Baby Got Drunk’. There are stories and messages aplenty and you can’t beat an album that begins with a song that’s a tribute to Alex Chilton.
‘Weeds’ is released in the UK on Dollyrocker Records (DR20231) on Friday July 21st.
