Thursday, February 06, 2003
Copyright © Las Vegas Mercury

CDVS

These days, alt-country hardly seems so alt at all, what with Neil Young and Son Volt and Beth Orton having paved a gold-record road to mainstream city. Shoot, alt-country's become downright cachet during the past decade or so--fashionable enough that many a diehard modster can now be seen plucking on a pedal steel (often with less-than-ideal results).

Nevertheless, this week's sonic pugilists--one a newcomer, the other a pioneer--seem to typify the alt in alt-country, simultaneously challenging country conventions and tapping into some buried, bittersweet ache within us all. Take Gainesville, Fla.'s alt-country-tronica quintet Holopaw (which, by the way, is an Indian phrase meaning "a place where stuff is hauled"). Fronted by Ugly Casanova crooner John Orth, Holopaw's self-titled debut is a crafty fusion of acoustic guitars, drum machines, fiddles and synthesizers. Layered with lyrics that brood over everything from room-spinning drunkenness ("Teacup Woozy") to mythical horses ("Hoover"), Holopaw manages a rare achievement: an album that conjures a wistful, haunting vision of the rural backwater without spilling over into squeal-like-a-pig creepiness.

By comparison, alt-country mainstays and perennial critical darlings Wilco's 1995 debut A.M. seems kinda conservative, relying more on country-guts and down-home charm than sonic ambition. Consider, for example, "Passenger Side"--a loping lament to a DUI-suspended driver's license: "Can you take me to the store, and then the bank/ I've got five dollars we can put in the tank/ I've got a court date coming in June/ I'll be driving soon/ Don't like riding on the passenger side." At other times, A.M. swings with a Stones-esque country honk circa Let it Bleed ("Casino Queen"). Unfortunately, these no-frills, nicotine-stained grooves are tempered by a series of syrupy ballads ("Should've Been in Love" and "I Thought I Held You")--songs sickening enough that they would have made even alt-country granddaddy Gram Parsons wretch.

So who wins? Holopaw certainly seems a more brooding, literate effort, but Wilco gets the nod for helping pioneer the genre and pave the way for bands like Holopaw, Moe and Sparklehorse. But as we all know, it is often the imitator that perfects the style, and in this case the boys from the Sunshine State sneak away with a win.--Newt Briggs