![]() ![]() The album contains plenty of high points: the aforementioned songs, as well as the lonesome "Back Into Your World" and "Last Minute Shakedown." And the only place it comes up short is the lyrics - unlike Trace, whose songs "Windfall" and "Tear Stained Eye" stood by themselves and provided a universal feel and emotion that was easily grasped, much of the lyrical content of Straightaways seems open-ended and fragmented, with the intensity building on the haunting instrumental arrangements and Farrar's affecting vocal phrasing. Actually, I would like the whole thing a lot better if it werent for Jay. On Straightaways, his songs live on the same late-night backwoods rural highways that Trace inhabited, with song titles like "Creosote" and "Cemetery Savior" conjuring up dark imagery. For me, this is a keeper primarily because of the incredibly good first track. It was hard not to notice that he and Tweedy both shifted to more tricked-up, deconstructed regions in 2000 the latter in recording Wilco’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and Farrar with his solo debut, Sebastopol, which received none of that lauded record’s fanfare. I'm just updating and asking similar questions. With Son Volt clearly treading water, Jay moved on. Those songs established a thematic tradition. 'The song didn't start out as an intentional homage thing, but in retrospect I see it as a nod to Springsteen's 'Born in the USA' or Neil Young's 'Rockin’ In The Free World', Farrar says. There are plenty of threads to connect Straightaways to Trace, such as the expressive playing of multi-instrumentalist Dave Boquist on guitars, fiddle, banjo, and lap steel, and Farrar's forlorn vocal delivery, which could give even the weakest song emotional power. Where’s the soul Listen to/view Livin’ in the USA HERE. Whereas former Uncle Tupelo partner Jeff Tweedy and his band, Wilco, used its sophomore release to explore new territory, Son Volt leader and songwriter Jay Farrar keeps his band mining the same country-folk vein that Uncle Tupelo quarried. And we will stay right there, in the thick of the blue of the note.Although none of the songs on Straightaways immediately jump off the grooves, as was the case with the band's brilliant debut, Trace, repeated spins reveal a strong effort nonetheless. Perhaps because we have no other place to return to, but to the doleful front porch bayou gospel of “The Storm” and the endearingly drawled “Cairo and Southern,” every vowel pronounced long and drawn, plain and raw as day, Farrar’s voice fragile. ![]() But even still, we return to be broken by the bluest ones. “Lost Souls” struts in electric-garage, and “Cherokee St.” pounds, the percussive stomp pulling in close to home as Farrar retires, “Today’s world is not my home.” The menacing spoken-word creeper “Threads and Steel” closes ominously, the bass lines flapping like toggled flesh long-aware of the need for healing, but with no salve in sight. It just takes a second to adjust to the opposing forces. But anguish is only half the tone, and its match is found -there is snarl and there is bite in Notes of Blue. It is there, but only for a portion, on an album that might be much bluer, and might have wiped us out completely. The foil of the pedal steel gleams and folds -a perfect refracting machine for Jay Farrar’s chiseled baritone -allowing the onslaught of his could-be confidence-on-paper to bend and break and draw us under. From the first moment of the achingly beautiful opener “Promise the World” we capitulate, our minds recalling some of the first moments we heard Anodyne from Son Volt precursor Uncle Tupelo. ![]()
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