Luke Zimmerman
Twilight Waltz
2005
Crow River Records

Personnel: Luke Zimmerman, vocals, guitar/Andy Hertel, drums/Randy Casey- lead guitars, bass, backing vocal/Steve Price, bass/Peter J. Sands, keyboards and accordion.

Track Listing: If I Were King/Duluth/New Moon/Into The Blue/Not Done Knowing You/Wait A Minute/Blind And Dumb/And The Night/When You Are Mine/Amelia

Wow. With a moniker like ZIMMERMAN, one would think this album would be, if not an instant classic, at least worthy of rippin’ to your computer jukebox. Or not. Thing is, if ya go into this album thinkin’ yer gonna hear some Bob knock-off, or even (beyond the average Minnesota/Midwest musical tie-ins) some familial resemblances, yer probably gonna be disappointed. That being said, let’s dive into the album and check it out.

Lead singer/songwriter/guitarist Luke Zimmerman has a rather understated, low-key delivery and a tenuous, almost shy voice. His subject matter (ranging from the self-absorbed “If I Were King” to the alternately brilliant/naive “Duluth” to the lulling yet confusing ballad “New Moon”) is universal- encompassing love, loss, personal pain and discovery, and adulthood, but it seems to have such a “me” factor running through it that I had a hard time connecting personally with many of the tracks here.

That’s not to say that they aren’t gorgeous musically (many of them are, and from what I can hear that’s largely due to contributor/co-producer/mixer Randy Casey and his always-inspiring slide and other guitar work); as a matter of fact, several of them are downright heartbreaking. “Into The Blue” unfolds over a lush bed of accordion and soft, soulful snare cracks, Zimmerman straining to remember a lost love and the best aspects of a doomed former relationship. This is his strong point, and he knows it, but I’m left feeling that as revelatory as these tunes are, Luke is leaving out a lot of himself- his REAL self- when he pens these tunes. And that’s fine and dandy, just not the kind of stuff that sticks inside my personal, inner-brain jukebox and cries out for daily play.

All in all, a nice, non-threatening batch of (mostly) love songs, anti-love songs, and lost love songs, done up respectfully and with all the right touches by Casey and Zimmerman himself, but nothing I’d run screaming to the local shop for. Live, this cat might be a different story- his songs certainly have the potential to ring out strong, true, and honestly if the man would just loosen up a bit and let his hair down. Check it out yourself at LukeZimmerman.com.

The Whipsaws
Ten Day Bender
2006
Self-Released

Personnel: Evan Phillips, vocal, guitars/Aaron Benolkin, lead guitars/Wade Collins, bass/James Dommek, Jr., drums/Greg “Banjovi” Booth, banjo/Beth Chrisman, fiddle, backing vocals.

Track Listing: Petersville/Hillbilly Heroin/Ass Grass Revival/Shotgun Wedding/Hole In My Heart/Contraband/Bootlegger’s Blues/Wayward John/Sweet Marie/Codeine

When I interviewed Drive-By Truckers front man Patterson Hood a year or two ago, we talked a lot about the sense of PLACE in his songs- being raised in the deep South, his reaction to social issues and pop culture notes like “To Kill A Mockingbird,” and how he felt he fit in as a young(er) musician/performer in the New South. His answers were plain, thoughtful and, as always, full of those true southern phrases and inflections that we Yankees find so quaint and charming. Bottom line was that he knew- and reveled in the fact- that his songs were set in a particular place, and he was almost painfully aware of his own place and of the strange, unfolding world of NOW swirling about him.

I get that same sense of place belonging, and self-awareness when listening to Alaska’s Whipsaws- a beautiful, yet brutal, blend of influences and comparisons run through their music- DBT’s, Uncle Tupelo, Blue Mountain, Vic Chesnutt and The Jayhawks right up front, Gram Parsons, The Byrds, David Allen Coe and classic country icons like Buck Owens, Johnny Cash and Merle Haggard rippling just below the clean, clear surface of these unpolished gems. THIS is the band- and the album- I’ve been looking for since I got off a plane sober, half-dead and starved a couple months back.

Kicking off with the Steve Earle-ish “Petersville” (a lean, sparkling ode to death, crime, working class heroes, loveable losers, and timeless characters), the album immediately establishes that inherent sense of place, time and space I mentioned above. Lead singer/songwriter Evan Phillips has an instantly memorable, hoot-an-a-holler vocal delivery and a smooth, palatable voice that evokes old West story-tellin’ an’ Southern yarn-spinnin’ with all the panache one would expect from a citizen of what’s still referred to as “The Last Frontier.” Tales like “Petersville” are thick here in Tundra-land: guys who work hard and retain a silent, steely attitude for twenty-odd years and then just inexplicably snap one day, liquor up and pump their brother-in-law, workin’ buddy or boss fulla 12 gauge shells ... is it the endless daylight, the nearness to the pole or simply the psychological spin-off from knowing one is really and truly standing (living, loving, breathing, working, fucking, drinking, doping, dying ...) on the last bit of truly unsettled land in the country? You won’t find the answers here, but it’s a great way to kick-start your inner evaluator.

“Hillbilly Heroin” has all the bite and sting of a classic Bottlerockets track, Phillips lamenting his wasted years chasing the poor man’s horse: “Spent some time behind cold steel back in ‘94/ Was a consequence for lippin’ off to the cops at my front door/ And somewhere ‘long the line, I started snortin’ coke/ And I pawned my shit for fifty bucks ‘cause I always wanted more ... and somewhere ‘long the line, I shot it in my vein, and that hillbilly heroin would hit me like a train ...” He’s not glorifying the drug or the lifestyle (“Well, I’m falling, and I can’t see the ground ...” he almost howls), but laying out his personal road for inspection and lessons to be learned. There isn’t a song on this album that isn’t pure, true, straight-up and from the gut- and I’d wager these fellas are exactly like the characters they sing and pick about on a nightly basis.

“Ass Grass Revival” is one of several instrumentals here, this one a banjo- (courtesy of the aptly dubbed Greg “Banjovi” Booth) and guitar-driven pickfest of the highest order, martial snare slappin’ time with no-bullshit bass and squirrely, ringing axes- surely a contender for the soundtrack to the next installment of “Smoky And The Bandit,” eh, good buddy? Ayup, that’s a big 10-4, Rubber Duckie. “Shotgun Wedding” recounts the meeting and subsequent marriage of the character’s parents (this one is credited to the full band, not just Phillips) that rings out like a million family stories before it: “They were free and they were young/ With a shotgun wedding at 21/ Smokin’ weed an’ drinkin’ beer/ Never thought we’d last this long/ Just having fights an’ having fun/ But it’s been worth it all these years ...” This is modern-day Americana/roadhouse jukebox material at its finest, and The Whipsaws deliver it like a precious newborn baby into the uncertain arms of a needful America.

Other stand-out cuts include the ferocious, outlaw-country-blues grinder “Contraband”: “Black coffee, black lungs, black smoke rolling out my stack/ I traded in my Peterbilt for a ‘99 Mack/ White pills, white lines, I gotta get my shipment on time ...”; the true-to-life tall tale ballad “Wayward John,” which finds Phillips choking out lines like, “Wayward John don’t come around here no more/ They had enough of your shit and sleeping on the floor/ I don’t know where you’re from or why you came so far/ Life’s a tough one when you’re livin’ at the bar ...”; the lovingly-picked and pain-wracked “Sweet Marie” (co-written with James Dommek, Jr. and featuring haunting, Emmylou Harris-esque backing vocals from Beth Chrisman), which tells a classic tale of a tragic commercial fishing-related death on the high seas (every word spot-on; I’ve spent my share of time on those fierce waves and know of what the boys speak here) with couplets like, “So the weather turned and the waves were high/ With the freezing spray under darkened sky/ A roller came from his starboard side/ And swept him off for his final ride/ He fought for his life, he fought for air/ But before he said his final prayer, remembered back to a far-off place, he left Marie with a tear-stained face ...”

Like I said, there’s not a song here that doesn’t reach out like an icy Bering Sea wave and splash you across the face- and whether you want to awaken and feel real feelings, experience the raw terror of facing your personal demons through this refreshingly honest, true-to-life music or not, you won’t walk away from this record without feeling something. Even if it is just a faint, unidentified sense of longing and loneliness that’s bolstered only by your own vague sense of place and being. Either way, I can guarantee this album won’t be leaving my stereo for the foreseeable future- check out the soul-stirring, thought-provoking Alaskan rock of The Whipsaws at TheWhipSaws.com and don’t say I didn’t tell ya so!

That’s it for me this time out, folks. Tune in again, same space, same time, for more, more, more. Until we meet again on these here pages- make yer own damn news.

If you have local music news/gigs/CDs/events you’d like to see listed in this column, or you know James Edlund (E-mail me dude, I lost your addy!!), send replies to: Tmygunn777@peoplepc.com.