There have been several commendable efforts in this series before now, but the time has come for the definitive list. Each track is both a representative of a strand of listening within the genre, as well as a template for the many that perform and write within the aforementioned parameters. On reflection, amongst the several musical and lyrical themes that ripple through these ten songs, there is definitely a strong sense of the working man or woman, an individual ploughing their own furrow as part of the greater human endeavour, be it successful or not. More often, this labour is riven with hurt and disappointment, yet it is a noble thing, a mark of a common humanity. The musician on the road, the lineman working the wires or the road worker laying down his shovel. But let’s not waste words explaining reasoning and let the tracks do the talking, and when you’ve worked your way through, allow yourself a sage nod of agreement. Of course, this list will be different tomorrow…
10. Loudon Wainwright III ‘Motel Blues’ from “Album II” (1971)
Wainwright’s letter from the road as a travelling troubadour first came to my attention way back when on an Atlantic Records taster cassette. I’d never heard anything quite like it as the narrative unfolded; told with a searing honesty and self-awareness, it epitomised the confessional singer-songwriter trope with its self-destructive words and is a window back in time to a world without video calls and constant communication. This simple, exquisite jewel of a song, just guitar and voice, reeks of melancholy and self-awareness. The loneliness of touring and soulless hotel rooms is illustrated like a Hopper painting of an America that has faded and curled at the edges. There is untold sadness here as the narrator wrestles with his need for company and affection, ending with a cry from the heart.
9. Songs: Ohia ‘Farewell Transmission’ from “Magnolia Electric Company” (2003)
Jason Molina’s extended primal scream. A song that begs to be heard and cannot be ignored, delivered with spleen, sadness and guitars that rattle the consciousness. Hearing this for the first time was truly life-changing. The farewell transmission of the final moments of the song carries the listener into the heart of Molina’s pain as he begs the listener to “Listen…………… Long Dark Blues, Listen………..Long Dark Blues” over and over again as he fights the battle within himself for all to see. I came late to Molina, but for some, and I now count myself in their number, he was a prophet wandering in the wilderness, raging against the world with a fiery poetry that transcended the form. “A secret out of the past, will resurrect it, I’ll have a good go at it, I’ll streak his blood across my beak, Dust my feathers with his ash,I can feel his ghost breathing down my back”. Spine-tingling stuff!
8. Crosby, Stills & Nash ‘Wooden Ships’ from “Crosby, Stills & Nash” (1969)
Stephen Stills’ tale of fleeing the planet in search of a utopia distilled everything about the West Coast sound as Crosby and Nash rolled with the narrative, both lyrical and musical, and delivered harmonies that would serve as a bedrock for those that would follow. A Stills/Crosby composition, it really took the fledgling CSN and elevated their sound to the level of a unit that could and would fill stadiums. Opening with the electric click of the stroked string and settling into a lazy groove augmented by the swirling organ, the song is a back-and-forth post-apocalyptic narrative – very apt for these febrile times nearly sixty years later. The high point of the song is right at the very end, as Crosby wistfully sings about “And it’s a fair wind, Blowin’ warm out of the south over my shoulder, Guess I’ll set a course and go” as the organ dances impatiently, and everything is possible in this brave new world.
7. Glen Campbell ‘Wichita Lineman’ from “Wichita Lineman” (1968)
To many, the greatest song ever written, to others a view into the world of the working man in an America long gone now. Supposedly unfinished, it is a jewel, a track that defies genres and generations. To me, it’s utterly heartbreaking and life-affirming. I’ve written about it many times, and it has inspired books, most of which I have read. The question is, why does such a seemingly simple song stir such mighty emotions and industry? Is it the gorgeous strings that cushion the narrative on a pillow of dreams? The aching melancholy of the narrator so far from home? The ubiquitousness of the song has not dimmed its power. How is that possible? Clocking in at just three minutes, songwriter Jimmy Webb sent it to Glen Campbell unfinished, so why does it feel perfect from the opening bass line to the Morse code ending?
6. Purple Mountains ‘Maybe I’m The Only One For Me’ from “Purple Mountains” (2019)
David Berman’s death, like that of Jason Molina, robbed us of a brilliant musician and lyricist who, right up until his death, created work of the highest quality, which continues to echo on several levels. The tragedy of the shortness of their lives is only highlighted by their legacy. Just listen to the lyrics of this track and laugh as the tears roll down your cheeks. “On holidays, in lonely haunts, At closing time, in restaurants, I can’t keep on pretending not to see, Yeah, I’m starting to suspect, Though I hope I’m incorrect, That maybe I’m the only one for me.” This is a poet musician holding up a mirror to himself and the condition that ultimately contributed to him taking his own life. The last track on his last album holds every element of Berman’s writing strengths. A cracking lyrical narrative, wonderful musicality (listen as the pedal steel weaves and dips through the vocals) and the palpable sense of a genius at work. He is much missed.
5. Neil Young ‘Hey, Hey, My, My (Into The Black)’ from “Rust Never Sleeps” (1979)
Neil kisses goodbye to the 70s and signals his intent for the next 50 years as the amps ramp up, and the nihilism begins to inhabit some of the sound, borne out of a combination of punk and his own ‘fuck you, this is my way of doing stuff’ attitude. This track ignited the fire of the Seattle sound of the nineties and, oh so much more. It also signalled that Young had survived the decade that saw him produce many of his seminal works as well as lose friends to the excesses of the ‘lifestyle’. He had quickly marked himself out as master of his own destiny by controlling every aspect of his career, be it dumping Stephen Stills on the eve of a national tour or sacking the doomed Danny Whitten before his death. As rock was being subjugated by the youth movement and DIY music, this track plugged him into the new wave scene and paved the way for his work with Sonic Youth and Pearl Jam. And in Hyde Park last year, forty-five years later, it sounded as fresh and as angry as it did on first hearing.
4. Wilco ‘Impossible Germany’ from “Sky Blue Sky” (2007)
Wilco and, Jeff Tweedy specifically, have changed the face of modern Americana by embracing an ethos of experimentation and adventurousness. This track comes from the first album to feature the line-up that still exists now and perfectly demonstrates their ability to conjure both harmony and dissonance within the same song, seemingly with an ease that beggars belief. And live… well, just wow, as it becomes a showcase not only for Nels Cline’s showboating guitar but also a demonstration of how cohesive the band are as a unit as they ebb and flow through the sections, delighting in their own musicality and delighting audiences with their inventiveness and control. The album Sky Blue Sky is for many the high point of Tweedy’s writing as he reined in the dissonance and ploughed a more melodic furrow. To my mind, it is the perfect encapsulation of the depth and breadth of the Wilco sound, and this track is the pinnacle.
3. The Felice Brothers ‘Hey, Hey, Revolver’ from “Tonight At The Arizona” (2007)
Ian Felice’s cracked vocal and lyricism deliver tales of America, devoid of sentiment and artifice, chronicling ordinary people facing their struggles with a tattered dignity in the face of unrelenting difficulties, yet full of deep-rooted humanity and compassion. These songs are snapshots of a wounded beast and those who live in her shadow. This song is built around the poetry of another of Ian Felice’s doomed narrators who exist on the edges of a society wherein every day is tough, be it to overcome personal failings or the weight of responsibilities beyond their control. “I walk to work on the overpass, My teenage daughter’s knocked up, Oh, Janie, this time you really fucked up, You ought to be in the hospital, But I can’t afford to go, the bill”. Ian Felice sings with the whine of a man in agony, wracked with compassion and hopelessness, as the sound recording appears to stutter and a storm looms in the background. The stark acoustic guitar and squeezbox paint a desolate, heartbreaking picture.
2. Drive By Truckers ‘What It Means’ from “American Band” (2016)
Patterson Hood raised the bar for the Truckers with this searing state-of-the-nation song. As he currently struggles to form an artistic response to the unfolding fascism sweeping the US, let us remind ourselves of one of his very best. A very high bar indeed, this track is the height of the Truckers’ political reaction to the seemingly endless incidents involving the deaths of young black men at the hands of the authorities. A simple song with a devastating lyric and an insistent melody, it has heft and power. Recorded before the death of George Floyd and Trump’s current realigning of the idea of racism as acceptable, Hood nails his colours to the mast both lyrically and figuratively on the album cover. Here is a band that loves America but rails against injustice and prejudice at every turn. Gawd bless ’em!
1. Richmond Fontaine ‘Don’t Skip Out On Me’ from “You Can’t Go Back If There’s Nothing To Go Back To” (2016)
Willy Vlautin and his bands have done more for the genre in the last 20 years than any other. Literate tales of low-lifes, losers and failed lotharios navigating their way through chaotic lives filled with casual violence and careless tragedy. All set to atmospheric soundtracks that amplify and deepen our feelings for these people and the worlds they inhabit. He is a great of modern music and literature, and this track is the pinnacle of Richmond Fontaine’s compelling output. There are echoes of the Rolling Stones and Wild Horses here, and the way the song builds, but it is Willy’s voice that carries the narrative. A cracked and wracked friend begging not to be abandoned as the keyboard swells and guitar figures paint a picture of this desperate man clinging onto his situation by his fingertips that somehow is both glorious and life-affirming. The track comes from their last album before Willy started the Delines, and it’s a powerful legacy of a much-missed band.
