 by Tom Hallett
There’s something forlorn about the weeks before winter kicks in—even when the sun is bright and plentiful, it’s lost a good portion of its heat and when a staunch wind develops, it can almost make you miss a gloomy but warm late July afternoon. Each falling leaf is a reminder of one more thing you didn’t get to over the past few months—friends you didn’t call, letters you didn’t write, projects uncompleted, road trips forgotten, personal oaths unfulfilled. When those ol’ fall blues kick in, do yourself a favor—toss the rake and those ratty old brown gloves down onto that massive pile of leaves in the back yard and head on in to your stereo. Put some water on to boil, have a gooey, sticky cup of hot chocolate and throw on some local music. Here’s one that makes for a perfect pre-winter warm-up ...
QUOTE OF THE WEEK: “You’re gonna make me give myself a good
talkin’ to ...” — Bob Dylan
SONG OF THE WEEK: “Landed” — Ben Folds
 Big
Ditch Road
Suicide Note Reader’s Companion
2005
Eclectone Records
Twin Cities-based roots outfit Big Ditch Road return with another dark, brittle
collection of pedal steel-and-heartbreak-augmented Americana on the appropriately
titled Suicide Note Reader’s Companion. The album rides like the
grim soundtrack to an indie film populated with quirky, tragedy-laden characters
who continue to search for answers long after their questions have ceased to
matter.
Kicking off with the melancholy, sonically-sighing “Seven Hours,”
`lead singer/songwriter Darin Wald immediately establishes the album’s
emotional base: “Took a vacation/ At the State Hospital/ My sister came
to pick me up/ Take the meds from a paper cup/ The nurses who took me in/ They
asked me where I was and what I’d been/ Took the laces from my shoes,
my cigarettes and my lighter...”
“How Are You” finds BDR (Brian O’ Neil on pedal steel, Ted
Held on lead guitar, Tim Baumgart on drums, Amy Bukstein on bass and Wald on
guitar and vocals) blending their crackling, heartbreak-beat grooves into a
perfect melange of loneliness and loss. “St. Lonesome” eases in
on trembling keyboard notes and bleary guitars, Wald—the high priest of
heartbreak—lamenting anything and everything with such tired conviction
that you’re nearly driven to the couch to dive under a warm blanket and
hug a pillow until you weep yourself to sleep.
 “Saturday,”
the album’s one slightly upbeat song (the tempo rocks but the sentiments
are the same), proves these kids could play the hell out of a country barn dance
if they were of a mind to, but would rather spend the bulk of their creative
force dissecting the inevitable betrayal, sorrow and loneliness to come after
the initial exuberance of a moody, mismatched love affair. “Texas”
is the perfect road trip tune—insistent drums, high lonesome axe-work,
hypnotic bass and Wald crooning sweet nothings like he’s got everything
to lose and nothing to prove.
SNRC closes out with the devastating, pedal steel-driven number “Passenger,”
a haint-filled cry in the emotional wilderness that brings to mind visions of
Wald wandering the streets of a nameless, faceless city where bodies are plenty
but soul is rare, where love is promised, advertised, touted and championed
but never quite delivered. Alone in a crowd, he moans, “I wish that I
could buy me a dancer/ And pay her to keep me alive/ There’s nothing attached
to what I’m after/ Then I could feel like myself/
For awhile ...”
A sublime, understated batch of absolutely heartbreaking local honky-tonk from
a quintet whose keen understanding of what it means to be really and truly down
surely has them on their way up. Highly recommended. Check ‘em out at
EclectoneRecords.com.
That’s it for me this week, ya yahoos. Tune in again, same beer time,
same beer place, for more of the same. Until we meet again—make yer own
damn news.
If you have local music news/events/CDs you’d like to see mentioned
in this column, or you’d just like to share your own meds from a paper
cup, send replies to: Tmygunn777@peoplepc.com.
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