A Force Unto Himself
The indefatigable punk, firebrand and reveler Jon Langford cannot be stopped
by Scott Manzler
Jon Langford & the Pine Valley Cosmonauts
July 30 at the Opry Plaza
Nashville, welcome "The Hardest Working Man in Show Business," Jon Langford. For over a quarter century, he's hopscotched, stretched and subverted countless musical styles, more often leading than following, with a high quality count given his remarkable fecundity and productivity. His recorded output honors a pleasure-first music that never stints intellectual rigor or political smarts. All the while, his cohorts, comrades and supporting cast have cross-pollinated and bifurcated, creating a body of work that effectively constitutes a subgenre unto itself.
Admittedly, the James Brown parallel breaks down in key areas. Langford will never match the Godfather's cultural impact, and though his influence is broad-based, it's unlikely Langford's catalog will inspire a musical revolution. That said, at a comparable point in his career, Brown had definitely lost a step, while Jonboy only seems to get stronger.
Earlier this year on Punk Rock, he and The Mekons celebrated 25 years of defeat by plundering their early songbook for a victory lap. Little more than three months later on his solo All the Fame of Lofty Deeds, Langford delivers his straightest country outing to date—the alt-est thing about it, its righteous anger. The album's centerpiece, "The Country is Young," documents the first, faulty steps of an infant nation while its most haunting track, "Homburg," charts a descent into oblivion.
Elsewhere, he catalogs portents of a world gone wrong: the Statue of Liberty a strutting harlot, the titular Mr. Deeds a grinning death's head and the have-mores plotting an exodus to outer space. Backed by a revolving assemblage of fellow travelers, Langford casts his nightmare visions against a spare, economic shuffle, with a hint of rockabilly and just enough coloring—Guy Lawrence's Cajun-inflected squeezebox, Pat Brennan's honky-tonk piano, a live blues coda from The Pine Valley Cosmonauts.
On their '04 release, the limited edition Barn Dance Favorites, the ever-evolving Cosmonauts honor the Grand Ole Opry's Chicago-based broadcasting cousin. Where Lofty Deeds' unprepossessing 11 songs weave an expansive, insinuating worldview, the Langford-led musical collective's 25-minute effort seems deliberately slight—little more than an excuse to raid an unjustly neglected sourcebook. But from the joyous high velocity of "Bye Bye Blues" to Langford's gleeful bellow on "Here, Rattler Here!," the band's pursuit of good times, free of bitterness and irony, may prove just as crucial as their earlier anti-death penalty projects. The energetic set doubles as a showcase for 87-year-old Barn Dance vet Johnny Frigo, whose sprightly fiddle lines dance across the PVC's spirited interplay and swinging pulse.
The Cosmonauts' predilection for musical revue shouldn't surprise; if Langford qualifies as something of a great artist, his genius lies in collaboration. Among his many semiregular outfits, The Waco Brothers have of late emerged as his most visible creative outlet. Two years following their last regular release, the typically solid, typically headlong New Deal, the band return as the backing unit on "Mekoncierge" Uncle Dave Herndon's Nine Slices of My Midlife Crisis, a self-styled "Battle Cry of the Lonely Guy" that never improves on its opening salvo. To be fair, the Wacos are, at heart, a great bar band, best appreciated in concert, where their obvious camaraderie and good yuks complement a sometimes unforgiving assault.
Langford brings his traveling Barn Dance—not just the Wacos and Cosmonauts, but also Sally Timms, Kelly Hogan and undoubtedly others—to the Opry Plaza Party this Friday, promising good times, anarchy and "a few mean-spirited songs about Nashville." It's hard to imagine a more overt manifestation of his generous everything-at-once ethos.
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