Walkabouts - Folk-rock in grunge's murky pond

Generalizing is always a bad idea, especially when talking about art; schematizing can be useful for didactic purposes, but a thoughtful critic knows that every rule is a tool, not an end in itself. In the common perception, the Seattle of the second half of the Eighties is seen as the birthplace of the grunge movement, which would soon upend the mainstream rock scene, giving new life to the self-destructive titanism of Seventies hard rock; but the Walkabouts couldn't be further from that reality. The creative core of the band is made up of the duo of Chris Eckman and Carla Torgerson, the band's main songwriters, who trade off on lead vocals. Theirs is a folk-rock of lashing, melancholy colours, at times delicate and skilfully woven into a hazy blanket of fog, at other times fizzy and genuine, rough and immediate as the lessons of punk demand.

It's this latter side that triumphs in the band's very earliest output: the songs sound barely sketched out, both in their first forays on record (a self-titled demo and the EP “22 Disasters”, from 1984 and 1985 respectively) and in their splendid debut long player: See Beautiful Rattlesnake Gardens (released late - 1987 - due to a contractual mishap). Shards of fierce, acidic vitality come in the form of “Laughingstock”, Eckman's corrosive gallop, the opening “Jumping Off”, and the Buzzcocks-like charge of “Breakneck Speed”; moving toward a softer dimension, there's the pastoral “This Rotten Tree” and the acrid scent of burnt wood in “John Reilly”. A few filler tracks don't hinder the record's overall success: the Walkabouts pulled off something their gloomier “rivals” could only dream of.

Weights And Rivers came out the following year as a mini-LP: alongside a few singles that predate the debut (including “Linda Evans”), it collects the magnificent “Cyclone”, a sweltering, almost psychedelic journey into a morbid labyrinth of concentric harmonic veils, among the gems of the band's entire catalogue.

On In Cataract (1989), what had been confused and fragmentary on the first album takes on a uniform identity of its own (though not yet calcified, as it would later become): “Whereabouts Unknown”, with its medieval-tinged cadence, is worthy of the best Pentangle, while “Hell's Soup Kitchen” and “Bones Of Contention” rely on simple structures to sweep away the tedium of excessive preciousness. Stylistic missteps like “Smokestack” and anonymous tracks like “Whiskey XXX” fail to undermine the deep cohesion of an already mature work.

From here on, the Walkabouts would do little more than echo what they had already vigorously expressed in their early work, drawing ever closer to the tastes of a less extreme audience and to the comfortable language of roots tradition. The EP Rag & Bone (1990) is a transitional record: the addition of piano livens up “The Anvil Song” (otherwise entirely lacking in intrinsic charm), while the standout tracks are the more melancholy ones (“Medicine Hat”, slow and vibrant, and the lush “Last Ditch”).

Symptomatic of this first period of drift is the slick Scavenger (1991), perhaps their first album entirely in line with the conventions of the roots genre.

While the "experimental" (or at least "artistic") impulses become more explicit on one hand (for example the gorgeous, sprawling "Train To Mercy", an unforgettable album closer featuring Brian Eno), on the other the desire for cohesion tends to flatten the individual tracks, and even the standout songs aren't really all that special (the singles "Dead Man Rise" and "Where The Deep Water Goes", or the harsh interlude of "Hang Man").

Paradoxically, their style tends to evolve (if evolution is even the right word) toward a robust but placid lounge-room easy listening.

This risk is avoided by the band themselves with the magnificence of New West Motel (1993), a mosaic saturated with colors and shapes that explores every expressive possibility of the folk-rock style adopted by Eckman and co. Torgerson delights us with two of her most heartfelt performances: "Jack Candy" and the languid "Sundowner", before any remaining doubt is swept away by the unbridled drive of "Grand Theft Auto", a power-ballad as blunt and heavy as a boulder, swift and precise in its perfect despair.

The listener is led by the band's skillful play of light and shadow into a sonic limbo of endless becoming: "Glad Nation's Death Song", "Sweet Revenge", "Drag This River", "Snake Mountain Blues" — one by one, the eternal songs of these cynical, disillusioned troubadours tear open the horizon, already carved deep into unyielding stone.

In many ways a companion piece to the wild ride of New West Motel, the marvelous Satisfied Mind was released before the end of that same year. Made up entirely of covers, it serves as the light, frugal counterpart to its predecessor's grandiloquence, offering a spot-on choice of repertoire and a string of truly stellar performances. The title track is a country standard (covered, among others, by Porter Wagoner) performed with graceful mastery, and then Torgerson introduces us to a passionate, rustic version of Nick Cave's "Loom Of The Land" by Nick Cave.

In the Walkabouts' skilled hands, these songs seem to have always echoed, rippling the wheat fields with their subtle breeze. Robert Forster's "The River People" carries that magic into a slightly brisker rhythm, yet the result is just as effective, as is the tender "Polly" by Gene Clark, or the superb reinterpretation of "Buffalo Ballet" by John Cale. On "Feel Like Going Home" — perhaps the album's peak in spiritual tension and expressive power — a Mark Lanegan in excellent form is a most welcome guest, while "The Storms Are On The Ocean" drifts mournfully along a twilight horizon; the album closes with a heartfelt two-voice version of another standard, "Will You Miss Me When I'm Gone".

This is far more than a covers album: it's a journey in search of one's own roots, an attempt to build a universal expressive language that returns humankind to its origins, a naive yet splendid (at least aesthetically) step toward reconciling man and earth, under the banner of that innate, chthonic spirituality that indelibly permeates American musical tradition.

Having reached this peak, the band finds nothing better to do than return to the washed-out atmospheres of Scavenger, stretching the soup a little further on the unremarkable Setting The Woods On Fire (which sadly has nothing to do with the Hank Williams song of the same name).

Indeed, it's too soon to talk of decline: perhaps our heroes are simply taking a breather ("Hole In The Mountain", "Bordertown"), even if every now and then they still manage to land a solid blow (the single "Good Luck Morning", the enjoyable "Firetrap").

The real collapse comes in 1996 with Devil's Road: the band has moved to Virgin and decides to use the occasion to polish their sound even further and add grandiose string arrangements (!) to their compositions. The result is probably their clumsiest, most shapeless record: "The Light Will Stay On" is the manifesto of this shift, a chart-ready pop single that will, however, never actually reach the charts. Still, there's always something worth saving: "Rebecca Wild", with a less pretentious arrangement, could have been a gem of their earlier repertoire. One could say that in their pursuit of commercial success, the Walkabouts truly sold their soul to the devil — both the raw, instinctive one (buried forever in the chaotic sprawl of New West Motel) and the vibrant, positive one (enshrined in a radiant monument like Satisfied Mind) — in search of a professional validation that would be slow to arrive.

If nothing else, on their second album for Virgin they try to limit the damage and, credit where it's due, this time avoid taking the easiest route. Still easy-listening, but steeped in a smoky, urban, nocturnal atmosphere (as the title suggests) — probably the band's greatest concession to modernity. The standouts are the ballad "Tremble Goes The Night", the gorgeous near-trip-hop (!) of "Follow Me An Angel" and the single "Immaculate".

One could say Nighttown is a nice surprise for anyone who thought the band had run out of ideas, and a welcome return for anyone left disappointed by the flatness of Devil's Road. Still, it's more a clever piece of work than a truly substantial one.

Back at Glitterhouse after the commercial failure of their Virgin years, the Walkabouts released what remains their bleakest and most anonymous album. Trail Of Stars (1999) has only the mystical suggestions of "Desert Skies" going for it, and soon sinks into tedium, so much so that it seems to have been assembled from the leftovers of the two previous albums' sessions. Best forgotten.

To redeem themselves in the eyes of critics and fans, lacking a solid repertoire suited to the moment, the Walkabouts revisit the idea of a covers album with Train Leaves At Eight (2000), though this time shifting the entire axis of Satisfied Mind over into continental Europe. It's a highly curious, often daring experiment (the cover of "Solex In a Slipshod Style", itself a cover of a collage by Dutch DJ Solex), but only half effective. The most successful reinterpretations are the title track (by Mikis Theodorakis), the beautiful "Disamistade" by De André, "That Black Guitar" by Vlado Kreslin and "People Such As These" by Jacques Brel. Many others are pointless, including a tedious rendition of "Leb'Wohl" by Neu!; also questionable is the choice (evidently for practical reasons) to "rewrite" the lyrics in English, even if the translation is fairly faithful.

Ended Up A Stranger (2001) picks up the thread left aside and raises it a notch: the blandness of Trail Of Stars still lingers, but it's rescued by increasingly clever, engaging arrangements that keep boredom at bay. "Lazarus Heart" even manages to evoke, with its enveloping string textures, the most solemn Tindersticks; "Radiant" is the clearest proof that the band is now out of real ideas, yet still knows how to dress up the scraps it scrapes from the bottom of the barrel in an irresistible guise.

The two 2003 compilations are entirely negligible, going no further than resurrecting New West Motel (the inevitable “Grand Theft Auto”, which, as it happens, is missing from Shimmers) and presenting an incomplete and terribly partial view of the band's journey; Slow Days With Nina (2003) is a delightful tribute to Nina Simone (even if the performances aren't always up to par, just listen to “Lilac Wine”).

The return of the band's rougher side is sealed by the thunderous Acetylene (2005), greeted enthusiastically by both fans and critics.

The album was conceived during the American presidential election campaign, and it absorbs all the rage and frustration of those who saw Bush Jr.'s re-election as a heresy.

The songs amount to a kind of call to arms, and the sound can be summed up in Chris's own words: “like if Neil Young had met Wire somewhere in 1977.”

The deep sense of urgency comes through clearly on this fiery little record; the sounds of their early period would feel inadequate today — what was needed was something more 'urban', more flammable and poisonous.

The album was recorded live, with the five musicians arranged in a circle as if camped in the middle of the desert, so that each could watch the others and draw something from observing their expressions.

One of the Walkabouts' strong points is the depth of their lyrics, confirmed here right from the statement of intent of the opener “Fuck Your Fear”, which makes clear the sound and the present-day project of the quintet, light years away from the misadventures of a few years back, when they were labeled in some quarters as the Fairport Convention of the '80s.

“It doesn't feel like the end, but a bad beginning” — this is the reckoning in “Fuck Your Fear”, which, along with the following “Coming Up For Air”, was recorded on September 11, 2004, a well-known anniversary, and from there the album's musical and lyrical journey unfolds.

On the third track Carla's voice appears, but its sound is unsettled by the harshness of the words; ⟦Q1⟧ this is the terrible incipit of “Devil In The Details”.

Harsh, raw, disillusioned words, apocalyptic visions, flames that set places ablaze — including the deep interior places of the human soul — desperate loves, small and large disasters, deserted and desolate streets (“Have You Ever Seen The Morning?”) or streets populated only by lustful night owls (“Before This City Wakes”), dictators and ventriloquists.

There's not a thread of hope to be found in these lyrics, not even when the sound turns more conciliatory and hushed, not even in a closing track prophetically titled “The Last Ones” (we are the last ones, and there is nowhere left to go).

The musical side is extraordinarily well crafted too, often featuring instrumental codas of great impact.

Meanwhile, Chris Eckman plays his solo card with The Last Side Of The Mountain (2008), and throws himself into a sea of parallel projects (Dirtmusic, Willard Grant Conspiracy), further broadening his range of action and cementing his reputation well beyond the musical styles he had so far brilliantly explored.

In October 2011, a full six years after “Acetylene”, Travels In The Dustland was released, but all it takes is hearing Carla Torgerson's voice on the opener “My Diviner” to be fully repaid for the long wait.

Alongside Chris and Carla, the lineup is confirmed with Michael Wells on bass, Glenn Slater on keyboards and Terri Moeller on drums, plus newcomer Paul Austin (already of Willard Grant Conspiracy) on guitar.

"Dustland" is less vicious than "Acetylene," a touch more polished, but just as effective, with eleven tracks that smell of dust and well-seasoned guitars.

As usual, the quality of the songs is extraordinary, folk rock contaminated with a refined alternative approach, where Carla represents sweetness and Chris represents indignation,

Some tracks are programmatic right from the title ("Every River Will Burn"), but this time the aggression stays latent, controlled, in an ensemble effort that's thoroughly successful and classy.

The journey is the dominant theme ("Long Drive In A Slow Machine"), between urban blues ("Rainmaker Blues") and unreachable horizons ("Horizon Fade"), with the wind always ready to ruffle our hair ("Thin Of The Air").

The Walkabouts return to steal our souls ("Soul Thief") and gift us wonderful tales of dusty lands ("The Dustlands") and melancholy skies ("Wild Sky Revelry"), with moments of disarming tenderness ("They Are Not Like Us") alternating with classic rock episodes ("No Rhyme, No Reason").

A result beyond the rosiest expectations, the product of immense craft, a great underlying balance, and inspiration consistently at the highest level.

In November 2012, Berlin hit the shops, a thrilling snapshot of a concert held at the C-Club in Berlin during the band's recent European tour. It's the first official live album by the Walkabouts, and it immediately establishes itself as an admirable instant classic, a cornerstone of modern Americana, a superb record that every fan of the genre should own.

The quality of the selected tracks is extremely high, and the live rendition adds an extra edge that makes these recordings unmissable. Roughly half the setlist (six of the thirteen tracks overall) is given over to excerpts from the two most recent albums, but "Devil's Road" (1996) is also well represented, with three tracks, as is "New West Motel" (1993), with two; one track each comes from "Ended Up A Stranger" (2001) and "Setting The Woods On Fire" (1994).

Berlin lines up thirteen absolute masterpieces carved out during that thrilling Berlin evening, ranging from the infinite sweetness of "The Light Will Stay On," "Border Town" and "Horizion Fade" to the spy-story atmospheres of "Lazarus Heart," from the relentless opener "Rainmaker Blues" to the unmissable mid-tempo numbers "Rebecca Wild" and "Every River Will Burn," from the furious lashes of "Acetylene" to the memorable electric rides (written with Neil Young in their hearts) "Long Drive In A Slow Machine," "Jack Candy" and "The Stopping-Off Place," all the way to the delirium unleashed over the final twelve-plus minutes of "Grand Theft Auto." Not to mention the unforgettable "The Dustlands," delivered even better than the studio version, with no excessive vocal frills.

Berlin is a solid, coherent and sincere work, able to capture intact all the magic of a Walkabouts show, a band in tremendous form that, with this record, seals a moment of extraordinary creative health.

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