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February 8, 2005
Part 1 of a close look at Wicked Twisted Road
(Wondering what an explication is? I explain it here.
#1: Wicked Twisted Road - W. Braun
(if you'll allow me a brief diversion: before I saw the album art, when I heard "Wicked Twisted Road," I thought of a deceptively simple and plaintive love ballad. Now, I picture a big nasty-ass snake, so, yay marketing people! I mean, really... can you conceive of any better cover art? That snake will be noted by the notables, mark my words)
#2: Dogtown - W. Braun and M. Braun
"Dogtown" is an old locals' nickname for Stanley, Idaho. Hometown of the Brauns, of course, it's a tiny burg with beautiful summers that bring in thousands of tourists -- who flee at the onset of Stanley's brutal winters with consistently record-low temps. Even today, State Highway 21 into Boise is frequently shut down because of threat of avalanche and heavy snows. If you grew up in a small town, you know the inertia brought on by a sheer lack of impetus; now imagine that with "Ol' Man Winter" trying to trap you in, to boot.
#3: Seven Nights in Eire - W. Braun, Muzzie Braun, Pinto Bennett
Rumor has it that every bit of this story is true, from 2003 when Willy, Cody and Jay took their first trip to Ireland... the long shot at the races, the girl. But don't quote us.
We’re back out on the cobblestones
The corner booth is waiting for the session to begin
And an Aran island beauty is sawing on the violin
It’s Ladies’ Day in Galway and we watched the ponies run
They raised a glass to all of us and we all toasted them
Well we kissed all the girls goodbye and gathered in our gear
So save our places at the pub and when the eyes are dry again
#4: A Lot to Ask - W. Braun
The best adjective for "A Lot to Ask" is that it's very Millican. The melodies and lyrics are open and accessible, and it's very reminiscent of "Walton Love," "Back Around" -- call me crazy but I can even hear a little "Hey Say May" in there.
#5: Motel Cowboy Show - W. Braun, C. Braun, D. Abeyta
Here's why you'll see people calling this song "Hiram" on various boards: there was a version of it floating around two and three years ago with different lyrics and a different arrangement. The concept remained the same -- that in these mostly rural little towns, back in the day, there was no nightlife... and precious little opportunity (or money) to get out and socialize. When a live band came through town, it was a big deal, so you and the missus got in the rig and went, even if "town" was 50 miles away.
#6: These Tears - W. Braun
Here's another unsubstantiated rumor: that this track was eyeballed as the first single at one point. It's definitely commercial enough... but it just doesn't jump out and grab me, personally. It's a good song though, and I don't want to damn it with faint praise so I hasten to say this -- one song by Reckless Kelly that doesn't exactly jump out and grab me is still worth more than 10 whole records by whatever unwashed hack knock-off outfit is trying to get the next "Live at Billy Bob's" gig.
I can't be objective about this song. The first time I heard it was Gregg's and my first date (oof, and now here we are about to get married, how time flies), and Willy sang it alone as an acoustic encore at Gruene. This song will always conjure that for me, a performance that was stripped and poignant and lonely, if such a thing is possible in a full house at Gruene, and I hope you get to see it that way at least once.
G and I have talked here and there about how we interpret this song. Is the speaker (whom one should not presume to be Willy, unless he says otherwise -- not every poem is autobiographical) saying that, in place of love, he was bound to all these other things? a hard life on the road, self-induced isolation, wanting more before one's time than one has earned?
Or, alternately, is it that the speaker's first actual romance was so hard that all these images can properly be considered metaphorical? Love as a terrible journey, an angry song, a relentless rain?
Put simply, is it that he loved all these bad things, instead of having love? Or that his first love relationship was all these bad things?
I have decided that it is the latter, that the speaker is cautiously confessing how he really f$#@ed it up his first time, by using metaphors to illustrate how it was even harder, more hurtful, more lonely, far worse than regular words could convey to you, don't you see? This interpretation requires a suspension of disbelief -- namely, that I'm not overanalyzing and that this relationship between actor and audience was crafted intentionally -- but, that's my take.
I cannot tell a lie: when I first heard this song, I thought, "meh." I found it kitschy and a little too pastoral. I thought, "Boys, I love a waltz, but I don't need one this bad." I thought, "I've heard this story before, and it was called "Lynnville Train."
About a week later I said, "Gregg, I think 'Dogtown' is growing on me."
A week after that, I said, "Yes! Gregg, it's a sleeper. I definitely like 'Dogtown'."
A week after that, I made him rewind and listen to certain parts over and over, trying to retract and bolster my new case that this song is a clean piece of lyric craft. "It's cowboy poetry," I said. "Close your eyes and listen to the harmonica." Sure enough, Everlovin' called us and said, "'Dogtown' is really growin' on me," and I about jumped through the phone to agree.
I've heard rumor that this song is biographical, and inspired by someone that the Brauns knew well. That isn't my story to tell, though, so I figure that we can all assume that it could be anyone from the greater Sawtooth Valley area (till we hear otherwise).
Looking closely at this song is much like looking closely at Mersey Beat: there are so many cultural references that one really needs to get those to fully appreciate the song. Mouse over the links below for a pop-up explanation of the references in "Eire" - some are actual external links for those of you who really like your in-depth background.
The first pub we could stagger to was twelve steps from the plane
A Virgin flight to Shannon town the day it didn’t rain
The laughing eyes of Ireland sparkling blue and green
With hair as black as Guinness stout and barely seventeen
Whiskey drunk and high again
Liquored up and gearing up for seven nights in Ireland
It’s quiet as a mother’s prayer ‘till we all stumble in
And it’s fifty happy voices mixed with whistles made of tin
And a piper man is blowing like the North Atlantic wind
I wonder will she miss me after seven nights in Ireland
Fifty pounds against the odds and came in six to one
McSwiggan heard the race report, he invited us on in
So we drank Catholic whiskey with all our newfound friends
Here’s to Michael, Tom and Pat and seven nights in Ireland
And when she walked me to the gate I swear I saw a tear
But then she looked into my eyes I knew she felt my pain
And only then I realized we were standing in the rain
We’ll come back another day for seven nights in Ireland
But, that shouldn't be a big shocker because this song's been in the hopper for at least six years (I figure, since RK was playing it live in May '99) (no, I don't have a Rainman memory... we have a massive geekgirl set list collection).
Still, this song shouldn't be considered a recycler. When we're talking about a band that has since gone on to add tunes like "Vancouver" and "Nobody Haunts Me Like You" and "Stick Around" to the repertoire -- more complex songs that show off their range of talent and add distinct layers to "the RK sound" -- it makes a Millicanesque song like "A Lot to Ask" seem almost nostalgic. It's nice to hear studio treatment on a "new" song, one that could have easily been played at your very first RK show (and maybe actually was!). I bet we see this get heavy rotation in the set list for the next few months.
Random closer: my favorite parts of "A Lot" are the very traditionally-Braun harmony vocals and the crescendo of the last chorus.
Now, the band in question is of course Pinto Bennett and his Famous Motel Cowboys. Pinto is the "king of Idaho country music," an old friend of the Braun family, a big influence on the Braun boys, and a regular collaborator with WB and Muzzie. The Motel Cowboys are very real, not fictional characters like Sadie or Crazy Eddie (well, we hope those're fiction, anyway).
And the first arrangement was called "Hiram and His Ol' Lady," or something along that line - and Hiram was the speaker. There was more emphasis in that story on how he and his girl get so f@#$ed up to go into town and hear the Motel Cowboys; the acid-trippy flavor is much more pronounced (especially in what I think of as the "LSD bridge"), and the lyrics changed in a couple places too. In the beginning, it seemed that the song wasn't really about the Motel Cowboys, other than incidentally.
Now the story definitely is more about the band, with the two new direct references in the lyrics, and the downplaying of the tripping. It's a very different song now (not better or worse, just different). I still have a hard time not singing, "of '92 or was it '73."
