Songs of the South

Based on the response to my last post (a whole TWO people read it that aren't planning to marry me!  I'm positively drowning in fan mail now!) I thought we'd start this one with another One You Should Know, this time for the enigmatic threesome The Devil Makes Three.  Sonically, there's nothing amiss -- a couple acoustic guitars, a string bass, and a bunch of catchy, singalong tunes to harmonize with.  Throw in the occasional fiddle, some banjo, and a jug in the back and you've got yourself a good ole time.  What's strange is that you wouldn't necessarily expect a trio of New Englanders in a California band to make such solid Southern music. Truth is stranger than fiction, though, and just like another legendary band that could instantly conjure the depths of the bayou from the California sun (Creedence), these guys deliver in spades.

Four albums in at this point -- including their most recent gem, I'm a Stranger Here, released late last year -- the band creates a vivid atmosphere, full of songs about fall-down drinking, storms a-brewing, and doom come judgment day. All the quintessential Southern themes are here, in rich, three-part harmony -- love, the Lord, bourbon, and signs of ill portent everywhere you look.  It's a potent brew, one that works on the porch with a julep as well as it does at the 'tonk with a whiskey and a beer. (Or at the concert hall with all three, if you're lucky enough to catch them live -- I saw them several years ago in Chicago and loved em at the outset.)

Below represents some of my favorites from their four albums, showing off the range of their charm and talent.  They're in no particular order -- just four from each of the albums, from oldest on -- so stick em on shuffle and get ready to ramble.

The Devil Makes Three
1. Shades (The Devil Makes Three)
2. Old Number Seven
3. To the Hilt
4. Nobody's Dirty Business
5. Man Tap (Longjohns, Boots, and a Belt)
6. Sweeping
7. Judgment Day
8. Tow
9. All Hail (Do Wrong Right)
10. Gracefully Facedown
11. For Good Again
12. Poison Trees
13. Forty Days (I'm a Stranger Here)
14. Dead Body Moving
15. Hand Back Down
16. Mr. Midnight

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I'm not sure what it is lately -- whether it's a response to my ongoing hatred of the self-important assholes surrounding me in DC, or a resurgence of my Midwestern by way of the South upbringing coming out in my old age -- but I've been fixating on the low country the last few months. (Maybe it's spending 70+ hours a week with two of the finest rednecks I've had the pleasure of knowing, too.)  Either way, I've been captivated by the South of late, so wanted to throw a couple more from down in the holler out there for your enjoyment.

First up is New Orleans' Hurray for the Riff Raff and a tune from their fourth album, Small Town Heroes, which was released early this year. Consisting of frontwoman Alynda Lee, drummer Yosi Pearlstein, and bassist David Maclay, the trio specializes in folky blues -- nothing elaborate, nothing fussy, just simple, honest tunes built around Lee's lovely voice.  The album strikes a slightly more somber tone than early offerings -- there's still uptempo winners like opener "Blue Ridge Mountain,"  "End of the Line," and "I Know it's Wrong (But That's Alright)" -- but the bulk of the album strikes a more melancholic note.

Which suits the band just fine -- Lee's voice is warm and inviting, even in the darkness, like an ember in the firepit while the wind howls around you. Tracks like "Crash on the Highway," "Good Time Blues (An Outlaw's Lament)," and "The Body Electric" all shine in spite of the lyrics threaded with black.  Nothing's better in that vein than the spare "The New SF Bay Blues," which is primarily Lee, her guitar, and acres of space.  You can picture her singing the hushed lullaby on a moonless night, her honey-dripped tones wafting off the porch like fireflies alight on the summer breeze.  It's a great tune on an overall solid album.  Check it out here:


We'll close with a little more Southern hospitality, this batch courtesy of the Kentucky quartet Houndmouth, who fill their debut album From the Hills Below the City with a dozen tracks that'll have you singing along with them in no time.  Chock full of three-part harmonies and belt it to the rafters choruses, there's nothing fancy going on here -- the album is part of the neo-Southern revival hastened by bands like the Alabama Shakes and the Lumineers -- but like those bands' offerings, there doesn't need to be.  Not when what's given is so good.  From the opening notes of lead track "On the Road," you're pretty well done.  What follows is the slow burn of "Come On, Illinois," the grand swell of "Penitentiary," the bluesy twang of "Ludlow," "Houston Train," and "Comin' Round Again," all of which shine even on withering repeat. (Which is what I've been subjecting them to.)

A perfect culmination comes in the smoldering "Krampus," which starts with a simple fingerpicked guitar and vocal and slowly adds in harmonies and instruments from the other band members, building to a climax with the soaring chorus.  Simple, winning, and oh-so effective.  This song, like the rest of the album around it, will leave you eager for what the band turns out next.  Keep your eyes peeled...