Simmering Grooves
Local singer-songwriter Kevin Gordon rocks hard, with a steady roll
by Michael McCall
A photograph of the tangled branches of an ancient cypress tree appears on the last page of the booklet that accompanies Kevin Gordon’s new album, O Come Look at the Burning. The way the land slides behind the tree suggests that it clings to the side of a river, and the thick brush behind the branches suggests that the river is a lazy, swampy waterway like the Oauchita in Gordon’s native Northern Louisiana rather than the Mississippi or some similarly grand expanse. The unforgiving image of the aged, knotty wood is offset by a hand-carved, hastily painted white cross that’s been fastened to the tree’s lower trunk.
The photo, by Mississippi artist Yancey Allison, calls forth mystery and history. The cross could commemorate an untimely death, perhaps that of a drowning victim pulled ashore near that spot. Or it could simply be the work of a zealous Christian offering a crude expression of faith against an indifferent natural backdrop. Whatever the case, these visuals complement the strong sense of place conveyed by Gordon’s new songs, which, grafting evocative lyrics to Delta roots-rock, stamp their images onto rich, regional ground.
Even though Gordon has published some poetry and has a master’s from the Iowa Writer’s Workshop, it’s the music on O Come Look at the Burning that stands out the most. Setting funky electric guitar barbs against swamp rhythms, it’s the sound Creedence tapped when they covered “Suzy Q” and that the Stones nailed with the kickoff of “Honky Tonk Women,” its few twangy blues notes steeped in Charlie Watts’ skeletal backbeat.
Gordon, who has lived in East Nashville for years, has always drawn on the swamp-rock of his Louisiana upbringing to distinguish himself in the wide-ranging domain of Americana music. On 1995’s Cadillac Jack (produced by E Street Band bassist Garry Tallent) and 2000’s Down to the Well (produced by Gordon, with guitarists Joe McMahan and Bo Ramsey), he was a songwriter who rocked. Even his hardest-driving numbers on those records, like “Deuce and a Quarter” and “Burning the Church House Down,” were rock revival tunes in the writerly vein of John Hiatt or Lucinda Williams. They were Gordon’s calling card, even if his Delta riffs subsequently found new life in covers by blues-rockers like Keith Richards, Levon Helm and Scotty Moore.
Yet on his new record, Gordon comes across more like a rocker who writes; as much as he enjoys wordplay, he embeds his imagery here within a tangle of guitars and juking cadences. It’s as if he’s digging deeply, trying to express something with his Fender that words alone can’t convey. There’s an abundance of grease in the funky, textured guitar work of Gordon and Joe McMahan, especially when accompanied by drummer Paul Griffith, a Louisiana-raised Scene contributor who lays down some of the most distinctive backbeats in Nashville.
Making the best of his band, Gordon often lets the guitar-driven intros go on a few bars longer than usual, like a man letting his boat catch the river’s current before starting a conversation. It’s a trick that old pros like Tony Joe White or J.J. Cale often employ, and Gordon belongs to their school. Laconic yet simmering, his songs have a sexual underpinning that’s mumbled seduction, not fast-talking hustle.
Gordon makes more noise than anywhere else on the album with his cover of Willie Dixon’s “Crazy Mixed Up World.” Chicago blues great Little Walter, who recorded the most famous version of the tune, sings the lyrics with lewd intent, prophesying the apocalypse to con a hesitant young woman into accepting his protection/advances. Gordon, by contrast, sounds as if he truly believes the planet is spinning out of control, and the pressure is starting to whack him out.
Yet even at his craziest, Gordon is not in a rush. Mostly, he sings like a down-home boy who walks to catch the train even as it starts to roll. On this album, the train is chugging a little harder, but that motion only brings more spring to Gordon’s step. As colorful as it may be, it’s also sturdy and designed to last—just like that muddy cypress tree.
Comments (0)