The further James McMurtry gets from the big leagues of the music business, the better it seems to be for his music. McMurtry was still finding his feet as a recording artist with his first three albums for Columbia, and just began hitting a groove when he signed with the independent Sugar Hill label. Now recording for a renegade start-up label called Lightning Rod Records, McMurtry has cut what may well be his best and most consistently interesting album to date, Just Us Kids, a dozen songs clearly informed by the American malaise of the first few years of the 21st century and the disillusion over the ongoing war in Iraq. While the war is rarely mentioned by name, there's no disguising the source behind the bitter, mordant wit of "Cheney's Toy" and "God Bless America," just as "Hurricane Party" captures the devastation of Katrina without belaboring what we've all seen on the news. Even when the specific tragedies of recent years don't figure into the songs, the aging rebels turned working stiffs of the title cut, the couple struggling to make their lives and relationship work in "Ruby and Carlos," and the drifter with a shaky sense of her own history in "Fire Line Road" are characters whose lives have been battered by the circumstances of the past seven years. As a performer, McMurtry still doesn't possess the most expressive voice in American music, but his lean, plain-spoken drawl has gained a wealth of nuance in recent years, communicating a laconic swagger, an ominous air of menace, or a simple acceptance of the quirks of fate with wisdom and clarity. McMurtry also produced Just Us Kids, and the spare, funky growl of this rootsy rock & roll is a perfect match for the tone of these songs, a sound that's thoroughly American while conjuring the dark clouds gathering on the horizon. Just Us Kids is an album very much of its time that also speaks to the larger ideas of life in America in an uncertain age, and it's brave, smart, and pithy music that captures James McMurtry at the top of his game. ~ Mark Deming, All Music Guide
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posted on Tue, 15 Apr 2008 19:42:47Passionate Americana with a political punch
McMurtry's built a sizeable resume since his 1989 John Mellancamp-produced debut and his 1991 collaboration with Mellencamp, John Prine, Joe Ely and Dwight Yoakam. The influences of that latter work still reverberates through his music, with Mellencamp's heartland rock, Prine's writerly words and Ely's maverick stance all providing input. Unlike those three, however, McMurtry often sings in a dry, near-monotone style that crosses the tuneful tunelessness of Dylan or Lou Reed with the wry asides of Ben Vaughn. His flat delivery seems at first like it would wear thin at album length, but his songs compel you forward, his band hits some exceptional grooves, and in the end, his singing and lyrical voices are closely aligned. McMurtry confronts current political issues with the sort of disgust that is surprisingly rare in contemporary music. The heavy blues "God Bless America" casts an eye on America's warrior-junkie pursuit of fossil fuels and the corporate soldiers taking point, and "Cheney's Toy" lays out the broad-scale and intimate impacts of the Iraq war. His measured vocals work perfectly here, keeping the bitter emotions at a steady, contemptuous simmer. Isolation pervades both "Hurricane Party" and "Fireline Road," the former allegorically tying to a storm's aftermath, the latter starkly spoken in its story of abuse. John Dee Graham plays a haunting guitar solo on the latter, Ian McLagan adds a terrific piano solo to "Freeway View," and Pat MacDonald blows blue harp for the harrowing homicide of "The Governor." McMurtry's a passionate man who ably expresses strong opinions with lyrical dexterity. He's effective with a limited vocal range, making up in tone and dynamics (and characters, stories and well-crafted phrases) what he lacks in notes. [©2008 redtunictroll at hotmail dot com]
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