Glen Campbell’s alt-rock rebirth didn’t quite go as planned, but don’t hold it against him
by Werner Trieschmann
In August 2008, Capitol records released a new CD by 72-year-old Glen Campbell, and there was no hiding the notion behind this much-trumpeted "comeback" album—Campbell was paired up with songs by the Foo Fighters, U2, English twee rockers Travis and others. The title of the album summarized the grand hopes: Meet Glen Campbell. Then again, it would have been rather embarrassing to call it Remember Glen Campbell?
While what was left of the music press (even perpetual hip seeker Spin) dutifully covered the release of new work by the old star, Meet Glen Campbell hardly made a dent in the charts. The tepid reaction by consumers could be understood in a number of ways, not the least of which is that record buyers were hardly excited about anything, much less a CD made by an artist known only through his widely circulated mug shot or recollections of older music fans who remember "Galveston," et al. The reviews were mild—more an acknowledgment that the CD existed than a real dissection. In general, Meet Glen Campbell was met with a shrug.
Of course, it was supposed to be different. The reaction to this new Campbell was supposed to match the fanfare and the career turnaround that came after Johnny Cash's dalliance with Rick Rubin and the American Recordings. The blueprint was pretty much the same: Put an old country star together with those crazy kids from alternative rock radio and watch the sparks fly.
This approach, instead of putting Campbell back on top, only reinforced the great difference between the two musicians. Cash and Campbell share a lot of similarities, starting with the fact that they were born only four years apart in dots on the map not far from each other in rural Arkansas. Sons of subsistence farmers, Cash and Campbell were brought up in nearly identical circumstances—poor and part of large families that cherished God and kept belts handy in case the kids got out of line.
Cash, of course, went through Sun City and Memphis before he migrated to Los Angeles and got a career booster shot courtesy of television. Campbell rose up thanks to his prodigious skills on guitar (he was out of Arkansas and playing bars at the age of 16) and his studio work in L.A. Campbell worked on records by The Mamas and The Papas, Frank Sinatra, Elvis Presley and, most famously, the Beach Boys' Pet Sounds. The crack session player, who just happened to be young, blond and camera ready, turned down a chance to become a Beach Boy before his breezy and sweet single "Gentle on My Mind" in 1967 became too big a hit to ignore. Then Campbell got his TV booster shot when the Smothers Brothers wouldn't cave to pressure to tone down the politics on their variety show.
The Glen Campbell Goodtime Hour (that title pretty much says it all) started out as a summer replacement for the Smothers Brothers and only ran for three years (1969-72), but it was enough. Campbell was able to stretch out his moment in the sun longer than practically all of his peers. He got to bask in the glory of a fading John Wayne in the often cringe-worthy True Grit. He lip-synched his big songs in every kind of TV variety show. Later, when his long string of hits ran out, he decamped in Branson.
Campbell's was very much the old-school country approach—find as many hits as possible and slap them on as many albums as possible. The result is that Campbell's most popular tunes are written by a handful of writers. Campbell's partnership with Jimmy Webb, with whom he's performing at the Schermerhorn, generated the catchy "By the Time I Get to Phoenix" and the haunting and indelible "Wichita Lineman." The big, brash pop song that's become Campbell's signature tune, "Rhinestone Cowboy," is by Larry Weiss. The notable thing about Campbell is that unlike other musicians—Cash, again, is a great counterexample—there is no depth to his catalog. There is no great, lost Glen Campbell album—there is no great Campbell album, period. After you hear the hits (which, thanks to those myriad songwriters, are almost impossible to find on one CD), you've heard what you need to hear. "Turn Around, Look at Me" and "Where's the Playground Susie" are out there, sure, but they are hardly worth the effort it takes to dig them up.
That said, Campbell can't and shouldn't be slighted because he's simply a canny entertainer. When he got hold of "Galveston" and "Wichita Lineman," he touched some live current and transcended his limits. There wasn't one song like that on Meet Glen Campbell and, really, that shouldn't be a surprise to anyone.
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