Tuskegee Homecoming

The Return Of Lionel Ritchie (With Friends)

They say that 99% of people admit they sing along to Lionel Ritchie songs when they come on the radio, and the other 1% are lying. Of all Ritchie’s contemporaries, he appears to have survived the ravages of time (and fame, wealth and plastic surgery) the best. In fact, the fame, wealth and hair dye mean that he looks better than he did when his hit making years were at their peak. This is also because he no longer wears jumpsuits and a combed out afro. But it’s not just about looks: on stage he appears limber, energetic, and in full voice has not lost any of his high notes. The same cannot be said, say, of his partner in crime, Kenny Rogers (who curiously, looked to the the exact same shade of orange as Lionel Ritchie on the CBS Special. For a taste of pre-surgery Kenny, see below).

Ritchie could easily sit back and enjoy his $200 million fortune, but no. Someone very savvy has decided that it’s time he hitched himself to the country music bandwagon and re-recorded his greatest hits alongside country’s hottest stars. The album, Tuskegee, named after the city of his birth, has been met with wild success, galloping to number one right out of the gate.

There is no reason to re-record these timeless hits unless it is to give them  makeover, or perhaps to see how other people sing them. He’s half done this. In interviews, Ritchie describes how wonderful working with these singers was, though a revealing pattern emerges; the country stars, chomping at the bit to take on these songs, all seem to have done such good jobs that no room was left for Ritchie on the tapes. But this, being a duets album, Ritchie has inserted himself very prominently on all of the tracks, opening them up and taking the big notes. It’s a bit like going to a concert where the conductor jumps into the orchestra to take turns playing all the instruments.

We already know how Ritchie sings these songs — brilliantly, memorably. And though the songs are very listenable, I suspect The Inky Jukebox is not the only listener who wishes we could simply hear his guests do their thing. While some songs sound like really really good karaoke — essentially the same arrangement as the originals, others have been totally overhauled to amazing effect. The standout example is “Hello,” a song much lampooned as a pathetically drippy ballad, which is here transformed by Jennifer Nettles into a rousing up-tempo number. One suspects Ms. Nettles simply overwhelmed Ritchie’s ego with the power of her voice.

A wasted opportunity is the remake of “Lady,” the blockbuster hit Ritchie originally wrote for Kenny Rogers, which is here sung by … Kenny Rogers.

Other songs are revelations, the full power of which was only seen on the concert performed by these artists which was aired on CBS. Jason Aldean’s “Say You, Say Me,” another of the middle-of-the-pack Ritchie songs was given new life with his reedy voice and honky-tonk delivery, something not found on the recorded track, which Ritchie disappointingly brings back into the framework of the original.

Kenny Chesney’s ability to sing a love song is something The Inky Jukebox would like to have heard more of — the whole song, say — with “My Love.”

While Shania Twain does nothing much for “Endless Love” on the album, the duet featuring Marc Anthony and Sara Evans really stood out on the concert broadcast. This is the best Evans has sounded in a TV broadcast in a long time.

Ultimately, it’s wonderful to hear these songs again, and Tuskegee is an album worth having. The Inky Jukebox just wishes it wasn’t such a one-horse race, and that the guests didn’t have to jockey for position in the studio. It’s Easy. Sadly, the album does not feature Big & Rich singing "Brick House." 

Here's Tim McGraw doing "Sail On" as part of his live show last summer.

The Difference Between Julia Roberts and Julie Roberts

Julie Roberts Comes Alive!

One can sing. Especially if she’s given good material, and in the case of Julie Roberts, at last a song has come along that shows off her classic bluesy voice — the never-fail “Whiskey and You,” by Chris Stapleton.

Get More: Whiskey and You, Julie Roberts, Julie Roberts Videos

If Julie Roberts reminds you of Lee Ann Womack it means you already know about ballsy blondes and their ability to pull off lonesome drinking songs. It is no coincidence that Roberts has worked with the same producer (Byron Gallimore) associated with Womack and Tim McGraw, whose version of “Whiskey and You” is the one most familiar to casual country music fans.

Roberts has recently entered the CMT rotation with a slick storyline video featuring her sitting alone on the bed singing her song, cut with her walking along a wooded path in slow-motion, cut with scenes of happier times with the guy who forms the “you” part of the whiskey equation.

Stylistically it reminds The Inky Jukebox very much of Taylor Swift videos filmed in the same vein, and we wonder if this will help or hurt, given Swift’s current project with The Civil Wars ("Safe and Sound") which features a very similar wooded pathway sequence.

The Inky Jukebox likes Julie Roberts — a lot. But here’s the thing with the video: if you listen to the lyrics of “Whiskey and You” you can hear the brokedown sentiment of someone truly hitting bottom. It’s a quality you can immediately pick up on when you listen to its writer deliver it.

But the treatment Roberts has been given has her simply belting out a torch song — albeit very well — and nowhere does she look like a women on the losing end of a battle with the bottle; she looks perky, pretty, well-kept. I wish the director had allowed her to be filmed looking shabby in order to preserve the integrity of the song (see Faith Hill’s “Cry.”) Sure, we see a gratuitous shot of Roberts in the pouring rain, but it seems unrealistic — people don’t just stand in downpours looking like they just came out of the wardrobe and make-up trailer.

That being said, I hope it takes off and gives Roberts the breakthrough she deserves. Her online marketing is top-notch; she’s ready for prime time. Her website is clearly and beautifully designed and automatically plays a selection of full-length songs form her current and previous albums. It’s really nice to simply have playing in the background if you bring it up on your browser. If any newish musician does not have their record company on the ball in this regard (playing their music, that is) in this era of Spotify, they are fools. On Roberts’s Music page you can browse through all of her albums and give them a listen. There is no stronger marketing tool for a singer who can sell themselves in the old medium — voice alone.

American Idol Elevenses

Dem Boys, Dem Boys

It used to be that you needed to have survived the early rounds of voting to prove yourself worthy of singing in front of an actual audience on American Idol. Not no more. Right out of the starting gate these “kids” are given the full monty of a big spot lit stage complete with screaming fans whose hands they are encouraged to touch like seasoned superstars at real concerts, a full band, an orchestra if necessary, and standing ovations from the judges.

Luckily, this year’s crop of boys were mostly up to the challenge. Clearly the producers have shied away from one of the things that made Idol such a guilty pleasure —watching the abject failures strut their stuff, both during the auditions and in front of millions of viewers at home. Nowadays we only get the good singers it seems, even if some are more good than others.

This makes things easier for the judges, who only seem to want to say nice things. I miss Simon’s unsentimental calling out of less worthy performances. What would he have made of Adam Brock’s campy “Think” last night? He would have said something about it reminding him of one of those ghastly weddings / hotels / cruises / cabarets featuring some flamboyantly gay chef who thinks he’s somebody because some drunks applauded his efforts on Karaoke Night. And he would have been spot-on.

What a total lack of balls on the part of the judges means is that we, the audience, are free to make up our own minds who to vote for unswayed by any professional opinion whatsoever. This is a dangerous thing, for it leaves the tweens in charge. If it was about the music, the singing and sheer talent, we have some clear front runners from the lads after last night:

Reed Grimm, Joshua Ledet, Colton Dixon, Phillip Phillips and Chase Likens.

For entertainment value I’m hoping Heejun Han makes it through, but only because I miss his awesome playing to the camera during auditions. It seems that now it’s all gotten “real,” Heejun is taking himself a bit too seriously.

Did anyone think the surprise addition was going to be anyone other than Jermaine Jones after all that emotional turmoil last week? Seems like a sweet guy, but he doesn’t have a chance of actually winning — along with the forgettable Deandre Brackensick, Jeremy Rosado, Aaron Marcellus, Chase Likens and Eben Franckewitz.

The youngsters are right to be shy sharing a stage with Ledet, whose rendition of Jennifer Hudson’s “You Pulled Me Through” clearly blew the lid off and set everyone on notice that a star is in the house. Mind you, if you’ve got the pipes, that song is easy to shine on.

Not so Likens’s attempt at “Storm Warning,” which was utterly lackluster (Hunter Hayes can only just pull it off himself), or poor young Franckewitz’s woeful “Setting Fire To The Rain,” which someone should have steered him away from: it’s far too big a song for a boy with that thin and high a voice.  A backdrop of fire does not a barnburner make. Likens may claim he’s country but who in contemporary country is he basing this on?

Folks are predictably divided on Phillips’s “In The Air Tonight” but something about it turned what is a dark and predatory song into something startlingly sexy. The challenge for him is going to be in versatility, showing he can do more than be the coffee shop guitar dude. 

Play It Again, Brad

Brad Paisley: Diary of a Player

 Brad Paisley is many things — a superb musician, songwriter, singer, entertainer, host, and comedic actor — but he is apparently not a prose writer. The task of putting his life story into words has fallen to a ghost writer (in autobiographies indicated by the all-encompassing words “and” or “with” following the celebrity’s name) which is a mistake. It’s one thing to collaborate on songwriting with other songwriting professionals — but collaborating on a book with a writer is not the same thing. While David Wild in all likelihood handles the task admirably with what he’s been given, at the end of the day reading a ghost-written book is like hearing a story second-hand.

Paisley’s autobiography, Diary of a Player, attempts to showcase his well-known sense of humor when it comes to word-play. A “player” in this case means journeyman guitar player, rather than the less savory lothario. He can assume we will all get the pun because Paisley is known to be a clean-living happily married man. But the title’s pun is tanked by its inaccuracy: it is not a diary by any means.

We get taken on a journey through Paisley’s life in the usual fashion — starting with childhood and proceeding on accordingly. Because this autobiography uses his guitar prowess as its main theme, it begins with his getting his first guitar. Most other life events are culled in service to providing anecdotes about his career, except for those occasions when a bit of background info is appropriate.

The trouble is that what we end up with sounds like a transcription of Paisley talking into a tape recorder. The parts have just been arranged chronologically. This does not make for a gripping read. On paper, Paisley’s off-the-cuff humor flattens out. What he’s good at — what makes him such a good host — is that he is able to ad-lib well. Scripting his speech kills this.

The book is interspersed with hagiographic quotes from some of his famous collaborators, which comes across as a bit self-adoring (through no fault of his own), as well as tid-bits of advice about playing the guitar (which frankly I want to know far more of) — but they turn out to be standard things you’d take for granted.

What I’d like to read, as a fan and as a person who’d like to play guitar like him, is how HE plays guitar — what his difficulties were, and how he overcame them, and any tricks he has up his sleeve. How does he do that fast shuffle he is known for?

We often find premature autobiographies a bit tasteless. If you’re a celebrity, however, you can’t escape them. This book feels like it was an inescapable chore to produce. And to be honest, it’s a bit of a chore to read.

Crazy for the Eli Young Band

Flippin’ It

So the Eli Young Band slowly ran a monster hit, “Crazy Girl” up the charts and into the awards season nominations ballots with a video that was nowhere near as good as the song. It featured some kind of love story about busting a girl out of a mental institution — clearly a too-literal interpretation of the song’s double entendre.

The girl is crazy — about him, crazy with love, apt to think foolish things because of her feelings. She’s not actually insane. That’s simply creepy.

Someone at their label finally got the hint and decided to switch their official video to one which plays on an old standby: the concert experience video. This has worked very well for the Eli Young Band before, with their hit “Always the Love Songs.”

A concert experience video is excellent marketing because it suggests (strongly) to the casual viewer that this band is Hot and Happening: that thousands of fans have cottoned on to something before you that you clearly need to check out. Music fans want to feel like they’re not missing out — and nothing makes them feel they are more than a wildly exciting-looking concert.

Pretty much everyone releases one at some point in their career — Eric Church’s video for “Drink In My Hand” uses live footage and fan interviews effectively, and his tour-mate Brantley Gilbert’s label, The Valory Music Company, is placing their bets on it helping to launch their new star up where Church is.

The concert experience video is not the same as a live performance video. It simply lays the studio track over live footage of the band singing that song mixed with backstage and audience shots. Jason Aldean’s “Big Green Tractor” is a live performance; Tim McGraw’s “Cowboy In Me” is a studio track with audience screaming added. It is the ultimate in “look at me, I’m a superstar” PR. His upcoming tour-mate Kenny Chesney loves the concert experience format — with good reason — it showcases why he’s won Entertainer of the Year so many times. Here’s his last tour summed up in a nutshell in “Reality.”

Taylor Swift’s “Sparks Fly” video was mostly a trailer for her DVD, but it still gave you an idea what her live show is like.

Valory needs to stop putting Justin Moore in slick story videos and give us a live performance video of “Outlaws Like Me” as the next single. Seriously. What are they waiting for? 

Lady...

Back in the late seventies and early eighties, you didn’t have to look like a boy to be a heartthrob: you could look like Kenny Rogers and do just fine. At his peak, Kenny sported an all-white southern gentleman get-up or velvet jackets on stage, where he casually prowled, holding his microphone with its lead, delivering hit after hit to screaming fans. He was just forty years old, though prematurely white-haired, and onto his fourth marriage. He had not yet become the walking punch line of a plastic surgery joke, so could still convey actual warmth and emotion with his face. He still looked like Kenny Rogers.

While Kenny had his share of truly romantic love songs to his credit, (LIKE THIS) there remains a part of his musical legacy littered with horribly dysfunctional characters.

Take Lucille, for a start. She can be found in a bar in Toledo, pining for a more exciting life and flirting with strangers. She could care less that her husband makes a desperate plea for her to return to him and her four abandoned children in front of the men she’s drinking with, and when he leaves, she goes to a hotel room in order to have sex with a guy she’s just met and with whom she hasn’t said much. The joke’s on her, however, because her suitor can’t get it up, haunted as he is by her husband’s humiliation. Bros before hos, Dude.

Lucille was also the name of Kenny’s mother.

And then there’s Ruby, whose husband, a paralyzed and impotent Vietnam veteran, is forced to beg her not to leave him at home, unable to move, while she goes out to get her sexual needs met in town. He wishes he could shoot her dead, but he can’t pick up a gun. She couldn't care less. That’s romance, right there.

KENNY'S VIDEO HERE

ALTERNATE VERSION BY SPOCK HERE

Of course there’s the woman who appears to be a serial adulterer in “Daytime Friends, Nighttime Lovers.” We’re not told why she feels the need to stray, but of all people she chooses to cheat with, she picks her husband’s best friend! She can’t understand why her husband can’t appreciate her need for someone else while blithely carrying on in secret. They don’t want to hurt “the others,” so they conduct their affair after dark (like that’s never been done before).

While Lucille, Ruby and Mrs. Affair do their men wrong, Tommy, AKA the Coward of the County, does his woman wrong. While he is out at work, the Gatlin boys (all three of them) gang rape his true love, Becky. He avenges her ruination by instigating a bar brawl, knocking down those pesky rapist Gatlin boys. But that’s all he does. Presumably they all get up and go on home as if nothing happened.

Whatever you do, don’t fall in love with a dreamer. A phone call always comes and beckons him away, very conveniently. He’s only good for one night at a time, as the thought of committing to more than that leaves him cold. He keeps his woman hanging on for years and keeps leaving the next day, breaking her every time.

David Nail Nails It

Turning It On, Turning Home

David Nail’s song, “Turning Home” succeeds due to three specific factors that The Inky Jukebox would like to elucidate, because we like craft and this is craft at its finest.

1) Great Song

This one’s written by Scooter Carusoe and Kenny Chesney, a winning team of the kind of pedigree that David Nail, at this juncture in his career, can be offered songs by. If you consider Scooter’s hits (“Anything But Mine,” “Better As A Memory” — Both Kenny Chesney; “Guinevere” — Eli Young Band; and “We Run” and “Fall Into Me” — Sugarland), you can see that he knows how to tap a mighty songwriting vein. Kenny Chesney’s no slouch either when it comes to crafting the hometown love song (that is, a love song to one’s hometown). Nail’s big breakthrough hit, “Red Light,” and his hit “Let It Rain” also had the benefit of some serious songwriting muscle in the form of Jonathan Singleton.

2) Great Arrangement

Jangly piano and the kind of chord progression that hits you right in the spine is always a great way to open a song, but it MUST be followed with a set of choruses and verses which push and elevate that theme. Nail has that ability to lift the tenor of a note into the stratosphere where hit songs reside, and he employs it to full effect here. The Inky Jukebox is a complete amateur when it comes to knowing what-all of these things are called, technically, but we know it when we hear it, and more specifically, when we SING it. If you sing along properly, you will notice that to reach the money notes you have to sing loud as all-get-out while giving it your absolute ALL. Otherwise the notes simply fall flat. You can hear an example of this in the lines “Graduation came and went / Along with all the time we spent.” Imagine hitting “spent” and needing to raise your arms in a TD gesture like you’re the ref at the Superbowl. Of course, the opening of the chest cavity during this move allows more air in, which is why singers do it. It’s the emotional center of the song, and has earned the right to be given full steam.

This lifting of the pitch and massive injection of full-on volume is also something Justin Moore uses to make simple songs into anthems (see “Outlaws Like Me” at the end).

3) Great Voice

You hear judges on audition TV shows talking about it — a certain quality to a singer’s voice that makes it just sound creamy and smooth and full of a lovely “tone.” It’s an inscrutable element that will make some singers stars, and David Nail is one such person. His voice is like a hot cocoa spiked with bourbon; goes down real easy, and kisses you on the inside once it arrives. Oh Mama. He can pull it out sitting in a busy restaurant just as well as a proper stage. Anyone who can sing this well while sitting down has what it takes.

4) He don’t hurt to look at neither. The Inky Jukebox loves the beautifully shot black and white recording / practicing / performing video as a form in itself; this is a really good example of that.

See Also
Four From Jonathan Singleton