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Live From Arkansas with Ho-Hum: A Stop Smiling Tuesday Reviews Election Special
A Stop Smiling Tuesday Reviews Election Special
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Ho-Hum: Let Me Wear Your Coat
(Max Recordings)
Reviewed by Dolores Alfieri
The state of Arkansas has raised a bountiful share of accomplished musicians, from Levon Helm to Johnny Cash. Something in the southern disposition leans toward taking a pride in the talent around you, as if you had a hand in its creation because you?ve spoken to the artist on the avenue, or watched the band play at homecoming dances before their name was a recognizable one.
Down in the state?s capitol of Little Rock, the band Ho-Hum ? fronted by brothers Lenny (lead guitar, vocals) and Rod Bryan (bass and back-up vocals), along with Sam Heard on keyboards and drummer Brad Brown ? has been a hometown staple for the past 16 years. After their first major release on Universal Records in 1996, Local, the group backed out of producing a second album for the company after it became increasingly clear that their production and marketing ideas were in opposition to Ho-Hum?s. ?They wanted to lump us into that whole Hootie and the Blowfish Dave Matthews thing,? explains Rod, ?To this day I would rather be living under a bridge than have the kind of fame that Hootie and the Blowfish have.? Ho-Hum opted instead to create music on their own terms, even if it meant eschewing the glossy blaze of nationwide fame. After playing 300 shows in 365 days in support of Local, they settled into their home state, played for a loyal fan base, raised families and raised a ruckus.
Today, as the band marks the release (through iTunes) of its latest album, Let Me Wear Your Coat, bassist Rod Bryan is awaiting the results of his year-long gubernatorial campaign. He is the first candidate to run on the Independent ticket in the state of Arkansas in 66 years. A fringe candidate, his platform has focused on issues ignored by his two opponents (the environment, participatory economic systems, breaking the two-party stronghold). He filed suit against the Arkansas University systems and the Clinton Presidential Library in order to get an injunction to stop a recent candidate debate, after he was repeatedly excluded from political forums.
I asked him if he had a shot of winning the election and he answered, without pause, ?I?ve got about a snowball?s chance in hell of winning.? His candidacy, like the music laid down on Let Me Wear Your Coat, is an attempt to wake people up, to shake the soot off the eyes and ears and spirits, and unearth within them the sense that you are a willing, living participant in the life around you.
Let Me Wear Your Coat is overwhelming in its range. Versatile and creatively adventurous, the sound tumbles from rambunctious rock to pop-inflected music that subtly hustles like Spanish dancing. Lyrically, Lenny Bryan strings together simple, plain-speech over elaborate orchestration: no frills, except where it counts.
On ?For Now There?s No Tomorrow,? a bass beat thumps like a soundtrack fit for a diabolical superhero, as a synthesizer?s blare crests like the notes of a horn: ?You may feel right tomorrow, but for now there?s no tomorrow.? The band follows with ?You?ve Still Got that Look in Your Eyes,? which begins like a love-gone-wrong ballad. Easy drumming, lazy electric guitar slides around in the background, with Lenny singing each word long and gentle ? ?Still? got? that? look? in? your? eyes,? until the electric turns up, and the drums slam a down beat like a sudden heartbeat; the melody shifts, the lyrics flow smoothly and swiftly into one another. If you can resist moving to the ensuing rhythm, you must not be alive:
?Still not doing it like you can, you got to push the fight, you got to be a man
Spend that money on all that time, you got to tow the line you got to make it fine again
Oh this world is a big old place, you got to get back in to the animal race.?
Lenny can turn the same austere phrase in on itself, and it unravels with new meaning. In ?I?m Free,? he repeats, ?I just wanted to be here with you?; the track rambles on, the instrumentation rolls forward, gathering sounds and guitar chords and drum rolls like a high-spirited parade gathering participants along the way, then the phrase changes slightly, ?I just wanted to see you,? then the truth of the words comes undone: ?I don?t want you to spread your wings.?
This is indie-rock as it was meant to be ? homegrown, homemade, devoid of pretension, devoid of an apathetic front that attempts to present itself as coolness. Ho-Hum has made music for the only reasons anyone should ? not for money, not for fame, but for the love of it, and, if I may, for the love of you; your weary hearts and ears.