Is anyone else as sick of the term "alt.country" as I am? As with the term "emo"-though maybe not to quite an expansive extent-"alt.country" is difficult to define and never really has had a specific definition anyway. Plus it smacks of the sort of know-it-all rock critic shorthand that is both elitist and vague (which I admit I resort to occasionally due to that other rock critic tendency, um, laziness).
***image2***Though it may not really have a specific definition, alt.country is inhabited by certain characteristics which are helpful to keep in mind:
1) Throwback use of old-school instruments, specifically pedal steel and slide guitars.
2) Smart lyrics, or at least lyrics that don't pander to typical country stereotypes (though it may indeed pay homage to them).
3) Embracing of other genres. Alt.country artists don't fear jazz, rock or any of its subsets. Take alt.country's Dwight Yoakum (one of the few who has been able to embrace the tenets of alt.country while putting out some Top 40 hits) for example, who has covered the Clash and other very non-country acts. The Smiths and Morrissey, for some reason, seem to be favorite influences of alt.country stars like Ryan Adams and our very own Hundred Year Flood.
4) A number of alt.country acts don't hail from the usual country-star locales like the South, West or Texas. Take alt.country gods Wilco, for instance: Their origins are in Illinois. The Jayhawks are from Minneapolis. Neko Case-Tacoma, Washington. This perhaps is alt.country's most interesting aspect besides the music itself. Lots of these folks have found influence and inspiration from the music and aesthetic of regions far from their homes. It parallels, in a way, how the British bands in the '60s "discovered" Southern American blues, then absconded with it for their own devices. The main practicer of this tendency, by the way, was the Rolling Stones, which leads to:
5) Along with American roots music and old honky-tonk music the Rolling Stones seem to be a primary influence for about 90 percent of current alt.country bands.
Other than that, there's not a lot of formula. It's open season. Which makes alt.country hard to pin down. Alt.country could be a heartfelt, genuine homage to Hank Williams, or a brooding, angst-ridden crooner, or a hardcore heroin realist like Lucinda Williams.
In a sense, alt.country speaks to the melange of influences experienced by a younger generation. The makers of alt.country listened to reggae, Stevie Nicks, Led Zepplin, REM, prog-rock and the Stones-always the Stones. If such a hodge-podge of influences are what you grow up with, why not throw in a little jazz? Funky bassline? Why not? Ten-minute instrumental interlude? Sure!
Given all this, characterizing alt.country may boil down to the way Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart approached defining pornography. Stewart claimed he couldn't explain what made something hard-core porn, but "I know it when I see it."
Such is the context for Shannon McNally's CD release show (9 pm Thursday, July 28. $5. El Paseo, 208 Galisteo St., 992-2848) for her disc,
Geronimo
.
McNally definitely has been bitten by the Stones bug.
Geronimo
kicks off alt.country enough-I know it when I hear it-with "The Worst Part of a Broken Heart," a mid-tempo ditty built of fairly simple acoustic strumming, McNally's fine country voice and-there it is-pedal steel guitar. It's a fairly typical song, until a few minutes in, you hear a jazzy, almost Steely Dan-sounding bassline. The song shifts, ever so subtly, still married to its country roots, but, while tethered, drifting from it. You know it when you hear it.
"Miracle Mile," the second track, starts with a punchy, fuzzy blues-rock line that could belong just as easily to Foghat as to Charlie Sexton (who in fact plays it-and many other guitar parts-on
Geronimo
). It's a toe-tapper, for sure, but a bit of a low point and the album, causing one to think, "alt. or no alt., this disc may not be so good. But then the Stones influence blasts through with as much punch and verve as the open horns of
Exile on Main Street
. In fact,
Geronimo
achieves the same delicate balance between rockers, blues-based tunes and countrified ballads that many of the great Stones albums do. "Sweet Forgiveness," for instance, is a slow, truly sweet, steadily unfolding song, not about love, but about the conflict between selling out and the effect it has on others: "I don't want a life that's soft and high," McNally sings, "if it means that others must suffer and die."
McNally's only in her early 30s, oldish perhaps in terms of the dizzying turnover rate of mainstream pop, but quite young in the context of true country music. She's not quite a throwback, but neither is she a young novice. Her roots, it seems, twist and turn, gathering what they need from genuine artists like Loretta Lynn to co-opters (in a good way) like Mick Jagger, until they form the basis for a new form of an old genre. In such, there's nothing alt. about McNally's-or Wilco's, or Ryan Adams', or Lucinda Williams'-work at all. Hell, it's just country music.
