MUSIC REVIEW OF THE DAY: BRENT COBB - SHINE ON RAINY DAY

Cobb's one of the recent breed of country singer-songwriters living outside the mainstream, with a lots of integrity and willfully staying away from the big drums and big production of most Top 40 country. He's had plenty of covers of his material by the likes of Luke Bryan, Miranda Lambert and Little Big Town, but is far closer to the Chris Stapleton/Jamey Johnson school. He was featured on the influential Southern Family compilation album with those two and others, the set hailing the new sound of the South. It was produced by Dave Cobb, a distant cousin who has taken to his relation's work, and does the duty here as well.


The Georgia native has the sound (acoustic based with haunting guitar licks) and the voice (nasal twang, Southern accent) down pat. He's still a little too flag-waving and Georgia-proud at times, and could be accused of having blinders on, especially given the Trump-sputtering, gun-totin' realities of U.S. life. Cobb tends to idealize his home (South Of Atlanta) as a place where time has stood still and there's always a game of checkers going on (he seriously sings this). He comes across much better when the songs aren't romanticizing the old hometown way of life that probably doesn't exist anymore. Title cut Shine On Rainy Day is a heartfelt ballad with an inherent sadness that doesn't rely on small town cliches. The darker he gets, the better he sounds as well, with Black Crow edgy and claustrophobic. But compare any of his songs to the asinine lyrics of most contemporary country, and I'll take a little Southern pride over that crap any day.

MUSIC REVIEW OF THE DAY: STEVE EARLE - GUITAR TOWN 30th ANNIVERSARY

Steve Earle was no raw rookie when his debut album, Guitar Town, came out in 1986. He'd been fighting an uphill battle in Nashville since 1974, when he showed up in town at the feat of Guy Clark and Townes Van Zandt, the newest version of the classic country outsider (see Johnny Cash, Waylon and Willie, etc.) Publishing and recording deals came and went, and lots of one-nighters and (famously) failed marriages too. Finally Nashville got smart to a new breed of singer-songwriters, which also included Lyle Lovett, Rodney Crowell and Rosanne Cash, and for awhile there it looked like country music could be good again. Earle broke into the top ten with the title cut of this album.


It's considered heresy to mess with the original sound of an album too much, but if there was ever a set that deserved to be radically remixed, or (Gasp!) even re-recorded, it's this one. Not that the performance was bad; it was the blasted recording technique of the 80s. This was the first country album to be recorded on a full digital system, and it sounds it, that crisp and antiseptic 80s production. Most annoying are the drums, with a booming reverb on each strike. It might have been all the rage then, but it sure hasn't dated well.


A shame that, as this is such a solid album. Earle had spent those years paying dues well, at least in the songwriting department. Hillbilly Highway tells a story of generations of small town folks having to leave the farm, and head away for work, college, or in his case, guitar playing. Someday is another one on the same theme, written from the perspective of a kid working at a filling station on the highway, who can't wait to get away from his dead-end town and job, head down the road to whatever is waiting. Fearless Heart is about that search for great love, no matter what: "A fearless heart just comes back for more."


This deluxe edition doesn't have any demos or outtakes, but instead a period concert on the second disc. Often these are okay sets, recorded for radio or promotion reasons, but nothing special. This time, everything came together on one night in Chicago, August 15, 1986. At one point, Earle tells the crowd that he's been in a whirlwind of playing every night, but that very day he's realized that with his newfound success, all of his dreams have come true. At the end of the show, after three encores, he tells them "This has been the thrill of my life, and that's no shit." It's a thrill to hear it 30 years later too.

MUSIC REVIEW OF THE DAY: BOB DYLAN - NO DIRECTION HOME Deluxe 10th Anniversary Edition (DVD)

If you want to help Bob celebrate his Nobel Prize, this is a good place to go. It will help get clear out all the garbage that has been piled on since the announcement of the award, both on mainstream media or in the useless arguments on social media. You can hear Dylan himself, either in vintage interviews or the lengthy one conducted for this documentary, explain that no, he isn't writing protest songs; no, he isn't speaking for his generation, he isn't claiming to do any of the things people were saying he was doing then. And strangely enough, all the talking heads reporting on his Nobel win that day, most of whom weren't born anywhere close to the 60s, repeated the same old tired lines. And as for all the writers and poets who got annoyed because Dylan won and he's not "literature", the Nobel committee gave him the award for changing songwriting, not for writing poetry, again, something he never claimed to be doing.


Rant over. This is the reissue of the Martin Scorsese documentary first seen on PBS, made in conjunction with the Dylan people, which means he had full access to the archive of amazing footage that has been stored away, the Lerner and Pennebaker raw film, including the infamous 1966 tour material, being booed by British audiences, and confronted by loony fans. Dylan himself sat for 10 hours answering questions more honestly than ever before, being beside Martin Luther King for the "I have a dream" speech, stealing a friend's record collection in Minnesota for the rare folk albums, going electric, going to see Woody Guthrie, learning to write and perform, all of it.


Scorsese also had access to many of the first-hand witnesses to Dylan's rise. There are old friends from Minnesota, and many of the wonderful characters of Greenwich Village: Dave Van Ronk, Maria Muldair, Liam Clancy. There's even Suze Rotolo, famously pictured walking arm in arm with him on the cover of The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan. His next lover, Joan Baez does a great imitation of him, as she tells the story of Dylan writing a new song in front of her, admitting he doesn't know what it means, but laughing that the critics would soon be telling them what it's about.


Dylan's people made the job easier for Scorsese, by setting the parameters for the film. It would only go up to the end of the 1966 tour, and the famous motorcycle accident which ended that early rocketing period for him. It is an amazing story, that period, not that what came after isn't, but there is a natural pause there, if not an ending. There's so much to examine, and so much incredible footage to see. At one point just past half-way of the three hour show (it's in two parts, as originally broadcast), the songs and original film fly past, Chimes of Freedom here, It's Alright Ma there. It was exploding from him.


Scorsese tries and succeeds to show the difference between the times that were a-changin', and Dylan's association with them. Yes, it was upheaval, with the civil rights movement, Kennedy's assassination, Viet Nam, and Dylan was the most powerful voice. But he was chasing art. Baez tells of her great plans for the couple, to use their fame and voices to lead the protest movement, but then finding out Dylan wanted nothing to do with it.


This reissue is called the 10th Anniversary Edition (even though it's actually 11, go figure), and does get bumped up with some extras for the two-disc version. There are extended interviews with some, including Scorsese talking about the whole project, and some longer old film scenes. Best of all, there are several original Dylan performances, from TV shows and movie out-takes. Most exciting is the full 1966 electric performances with The Hawks, including Like A Rolling Stone, the centerpiece of the documentary. People booed this? It's the best thing ever. After watching this again, I guess I have some issues with the Nobel too. It shouldn't have been for literature, it should have been for science.

MUSIC REVIEW OF THE DAY: MONKEYJUNK - TIME TO ROLL

It would be easy to call Monkeyjunk one of Canada's very best blues bands, and while that isn't wrong, it's never quite felt right to me either. Instead, the group seems to be that, plus. Monkeyjunk songs, and albums, always have that moment when you hear something different. Often it happens in the chorus or bridge, when instead of the usual change comes a better chord, that takes what was already a winning song to a new place.


Weary ballad Blue Lights Go Down has one of those smart changes into the chorus, which lifts up the mood. The first time through, Tony D puts on a smart, Santana-like solo, while on the second pass, Steve Mariner plays an Eastern-flavoured harmonica to end it off in a questioning way. Up next is Pray For Rain, which starts with some ringing, sitar-like guitar, before verses that remind me of those great Clapton parts on the Layla album.


Sharp-eared fans will also notice it's the first album (in their five) to include electric bass all the way through. In some ways, it puts them further in the blues roots, allowing them the full sound to explore a cover of Albert King's The Hunter, but it also meant building bigger tracks, giving them more room to explore their ideas, like on the soulful Can't Call You Baby. File them under originality.

MUSIC REVIEW OF THE DAY: HARPDOG BROWN - TRAVELIN' WITH THE BLUES

The Harpdog is an older-school kind of guy, and he hits all the right buttons here. His low growl turns into a moaning high note at the end of each verse on album opener Better Days, just like that Howlin' Wolf used to do. The sound is up close, hot, and ready for the stage, the real Chess feel, Brown's harp ripping through with lots of good distortion, while the barroom piano tinkles behind. Guests have names such as Big Jon and Little Victor and Kid.


And Charlie. Musselwhite, that is. The harmonica legend gives his nod of approval and friendship to his Canadian compadre with warm friends in the liner notes, and a duet on Moose On The Loose, a showcase harp instrumental. But Brown can stand on his own two feet (or lips), and this set of covers, classics and originals has everything from slow and sorrowful to party-hearty stuff such as his own For Better Or Worse, and the barrelhouse old-timey FIne Little Girl Rag. Already possessing the needed talent, Brown's also found the sound that blues musicians all crave.

MUSIC REVIEW OF THE DAY: BILL WOOD & THE WOODIES - MUMBO JUMBO TUMBO

Over 30 years in the game, dating back to 80s Canadian rockers Eye Eye, Bill Wood's been honing the craft, learning more and more about making those songs sound honest and real. His latest collection sees him firmly planted in roots writing, leaning more country for the bulk. For a Toronto guy, he's sounding very rural, kind of an urban Fred Eaglesmith.


With plenty of twang, and lots of effective guitar from Woodies stalwart Chris Bennett, the proper honky tonk atmosphere is all set for Wood's tight tales of romance, heartache, diners, and other life lessons. Best is Boots, as fine a tribute to a well-word set of footwear as ever concocted, a pair that has taken him to both Portlands, Oregon and Maine. Rocks In My Head is the most country in both music and classic lyrics, as he spends each night in the bars since she's been gone, and he's admitted he's basically gone stupid: "Oh honey you were my IQ." My Little Town is a surprise, not the story of some one-industry spot in the boonies, but rather about the demise of inner-city neighbourhoods as they see their stores and old homes bulldozed as well. Wood's combination of barroom spirit and authentic writing is uplifting.

MUSIC REVIEW OF THE DAY: DAVID CROSBY - LIGHTHOUSE

David Crosby has always made less commercial solo music than his group forays with you-know-who, or even the duo albums with Graham Nash. Going back to his If I Could Only Remember My Name debut solo release from 1971, the albums have featured experiments and a noticeable intensity and seriousness. That's the certainly the case here, and as with that earlier album, Lighthouse sounds like no other, even within his own releases.


Each song is cut from the same cloth, and seemingly very simple, just Crosby and producer Michael League on acoustic guitars, and the very occasional additions on certain songs, some double bass or keyboards, all barely noticeable. The music is moody, slow, dreamy at times, and floats along. Crosby mellow voice lays on top of that, adding a hypnotic melody. There are some harmonies, on the rare choruses, but mostly it's him stacking his own voice a bit, and certainly the album isn't heavy on them, like a CSN disc.


There's a certain crankiness about the album, although the lyrics aren't obvious. The targets are misguided people, no names given, even though Crosby is never shy about publicly criticizing people (hello, Neil). Somebody Other Than You starts "I can see the way you are, by far the worst of the lot." Even love is worrisome, The Us Below being about the distance between two lovers, in the middle the "frozenness of fear", while The Things We Do For Love talks about the fear holding someone in a relationship. It's kind of like those elves in Lord Of The Rings; everything's beautiful, but it's all sad, too.