up the silence Make
it clear Make
it last…” – “Down the Highway”
From his earliest recordings in the 1990s as a founding member of Uncle
Tupelo, Jay Farrar has been a keen observer of the American landscape:
its beauties and its tragedies, salvations and poisons.
It’s a perspective that’s been hard-won by steady touring and travel
through this nation, and Farrar’s almost two-decades as the leader of
Son Volt (as well as impressive turns as an acclaimed solo artist and
collaborator) have only deepened and sharpened his gift for capturing
the sights and sounds of his American journey – a gift which is in
evidence once again on Son Volt’s sixth studio album: Honky Tonk.
After all, few places are as quintessentially American as the honky
tonks where neon beckons to lonely and discontented souls with the
promise that sorrows can be drowned in whiskey, cigarettes and a
timeless music in which the clear hard truths of its lyrics mine the
emotional complexities of life and love as fiddle and pedal steel
“Honky tonk music is about heartache, heartbreak, the road,” Farrar
That music provides a touchstone for eleven new Son Volt songs that
excavate the classic honky tonk sound of Bakersfield (and Texas and
Tennessee too) yet distill and reimagine it. Honky Tonk stays true to
what’s so appealing about honky tonk music, while stretching out its
familiar contours into new shapes and spaces.
Farrar reflects that as he wrote and recorded the music so deeply
steeped in tradition for Honky Tonk, “I realized I also wanted these
songs to sound more contemporary and modern. There was no strict
adherence to methodology of the past. You never want to be a nostalgia
“Always a common thread between us…” –
“Heart and Minds”
Farrar sees Honky Tonk as a record moving forward on the path
toward a more acoustic-based music that Son Volt took on its last
record, 2009’s American Central Dust (also on Rounder).
“The record is a continuation of what was happening with American
Central Dust,” observes Farrar. “Once again, I didn’t play much if any
Like American Central Dust, Son Volt recorded Honky Tonk in Farrar’s
studio in St. Louis, with Mark Spencer (who also plays bass guitar,
pedal steel and keyboards) at the recording helm. Dave Bryson provided
drums and other percussion. Most of the songs on Honky Tonk were
written in a two-week burst, and many of its compositions mine a more
thematic lyrical vein inspired by a traditional country music
aesthetic, which Farrar first explored on the band’s previous record.
“I was always averse to using certain words in songs,” recalls Farrar,
“including ‘love’ and ‘heart.’ But I started using them on [American
Central Dust] and now I guess the floodgates have opened.”
Indeed, many of Honky Tonk’s songs dwell on affairs of the heart,
including the album’s opening tracks, “Hearts and Minds,” a speedy
Cajun waltz which assays the delicate balance between love’s
steadfastness and its caprice, and “Brick Walls,” a lover’s plaint
steeped in pedal steel that embraces the notion that “love’s a Spanish
word to be sung.”
It’s also there in a song like “Barricades,” which affirms the
necessity of pushing forward in the face of overwhelming despair and
defeat in a way that makes it seem that playwright Samuel Beckett might
have had a backing band called the Buckaroos. “No wage can buy what the
world never wanted,” Farrar sings. “Hearts press on anyway, undaunted.”
This continuing lyrical turn toward the heart is woven into an even
more countrified sound on Honky Tonk. Much of the immediate inspiration
for the intense exploration of honky tonk music came directly from
Farrar’s recent decision to learn to play a new instrument.
“In the time in between Son Volt records, I started learning pedal
steel guitar,” Farrar says. “I play with a local band in St. Louis now
and then called Colonel Ford. So I was immersed in honky tonk music,
the Bakersfield sound, in particular. And it was almost second nature
when I started writing the songs for this record.”
Indeed, a song titled “Bakersfield” serves as a swaggering Baedeker to
the enduring musical and lyrical charms of the genre, from its
evocation of Merle Haggard in the “sound of heartbreak from a jail
cell” to the bars where “hell breaks loose on Saturday night” and its
nod to the agriculture heartland in which many of these classic songs
are rooted, a place where workers “sweat and toil one with the land.”
“No cup of gold, no Candy Mountain,” sings Farrar. “No better place to
make a stand.”
That pedal steel sound that Farrar has grown so fond of playing winds
through most of the songs on Honky Tonk, with much of the playing
provided by St. Louis musician Brad Sarno. But Son Volt’s leader also
found places on the record to work in another signature of that classic
music: a jolt of twin fiddle provided by 2010 Grand Master fiddle
champion Justin Branum and Gary Hunt (who also plays mandolin and
electric guitar on Honky Tonk).
“Twin fiddles were such a feature of the 1950’s Grand Old Opry,” says
Farrar. “I was watching some old episodes where there were two and
sometimes three fiddle players in the house band. It’s an interesting
sound, a natural chorus effect”.
Album opener “Hearts and Minds” is one song where that trademark twin
fiddle dominates, and Farrar recalls with pleasure the interplay
between Branum and Hunt in the recording of that tune.
“When we were listening to the playback of the song,” Farrar says, “I
heard Justin make the comment, ‘Here's where I add the third fiddle.’
Justin is one fiddle player approximating the sound of two while he
plays side by side with Gary, which at certain points in the song
actually sounds like three fiddles playing.”
Farrar also points to the enigmatic “Seawall” as another place on the
record where twin fiddle provides key element of the sound. “There’s a
lot of power when the whole band drops out, and you get a burst of twin
fiddle,” he observes.
Yet for all its hearkening back to a classic sound, Honky Tonk
possesses a restless urge to make its source music new. On the somber
“Livin’ On,” St. Louis roots music stalwart Thayne Bradford’s accordion
is stretched out into a cold, haunted and disorienting sound that
matches perfectly with Farrar’s meditation on a defiant stubbornness –
the “reckless side of tradition” – in which “not even happiness falling
down/ can ever change your mind.”
For a music that seeks to evoke the dark and smoky corners of the soul,
classic honky tonk music (especially the Bakersfield variety) boasts an
enviable clarity and crispness in its production. So in the moments
when Son Volt washes the genre’s trademark instruments in echo, or
distorts them to a shimmer or shards, it’s hard not to hear Farrar’s
acknowledgment of what time’s passage has wrought on the music – and of
the powerful ghosts tend to appear when old songs are summoned up. Or,
as Farrar himself asks on “Seawall,” a song on which the inevitable
decay of what we do and build is evoked so powerfully: “Do honky tonk
angels still walk this ground?”
“Always a wild wind blowin’/ Just want
a guitar and a radio” – “Bakersfield”
With almost 20 years on the road, listeners will likely wonder where
Honky Tonk fits into the trajectory of the Son Volt’s storied career.
There are obvious points of connection between Honky Tonk and some of
the most notable moments in the band’s history. The ebullience of
“Hearts and Minds” and the buoyant optimism of “Barricades” bring to
mind “Windfall,” the classic opener to the band’s first record, Trace.
And it’s hard not to recall some of the more countrified moments of the
band’s second record, Straightaways, (songs like “Creosote,” “Left a
Slide,” “Last Minute Shakedown”) in a number of songs on Honky Tonk.
“I see Son Volt as a continuum from the first record,” Farrar says,
adding that the band has consistently tried, on all of its records, to
explore a continuing dialectic between the sheen and shimmer of the
studio and the immediacy and urgency of live recording.
“There’s really a combination of raw and polished sounds on this Son
Volt record,” he says. “That approach has been there since the first
song [“Windfall”] on the first Son Volt record.”
Yet there are even deeper thematic continuities between this new music
from Son Volt and its past endeavors. Honky Tonk – as well as Farrar’s
forthcoming book, Falling Cars and Junkyard Dogs (Counterpoint) – both
continue his ongoing exploration of America’s landscape through the
redemptive power of its music.
In that regard, a song like “Down the Highway” is a key addition to the
band’s legacy. Mandolin and fiddle partner here to push forward a
steady shuffle that sums up a number of Son Volt’s journeys thus far.
Farrar’s commitment to that quest, and his desire to find (as he puts
it elsewhere on “Down the Highway”) “a world of wisdom inside a fiddle
tune” is the thread that connects Son Volt’s work – and makes Honky
Tonk a landmark on that continuing journey.
“Throw this love down the
highway, and see where it takes you,” sings Farrar.
“The song’s about the need to take music on the road,”he explains.
Farrar’s commitment to that quest, and his desire to find(as he puts it elsewhere on “Down the Highway”) “aworld of wisdom inside a fiddle tune” is the thread thatconnects Son Volt’s work – and makes Honky Tonk alandmark on that continuing journey.