Tribute records get a bad rap. Often overlooked as little more than a way to make money from the catalog of someone dead, they can nonetheless offer new listeners an introduction to nearly forgotten songs. For the artists asked to contribute, these records present the unique challenge of how to offer new spin on songs someone liked enough to put on a tribute record in the first place.
An all-star roster of modern folk singers — many of whom also have country and rock in their makeup, and several of whom also call Nashvillle home — attack that question on Sittin’ With Blaze, a tribute to late, great Texas songsmith Blaze Foley. The first track on the album, Phosphorescent’s take on “If I Could Only Fly,” establishes the tone of the record. Lucinda Williams' acoustic take on the same song closes the album. Originally acoustic cuts are given some choice electrification while attempting to retain the intimacy of the originals. Only a few, like Dylan Earl’s take on “Slow Boat to China,” and Uncle Lucius’ rendition of “Election Day,” feel electrified.
Among the Nashville locals making appearances, Angela Autumn and John R. Miller offer tributes to “Rainbows & Ridges” and “Fat Boy,” respectively. Both are from the northeastern parts of Appalachia, and their rough-hewn voices are laid bare over unfussy accompaniment, lending credence to their interpretations.
Aside from his somewhat imposing stature and his tendency to sport a wiry beard, musician Ben Dickey doesn’t bear much physical resemblance to…
That’s good, because the majority of the record occupies a hesitant middle ground between cosplay and reinvention. That’s understandable: To imitate Foley’s austerity too faithfully, to mimic the sound of Live at the Austin Outhouse too closely, would be to presume equal footing with the Duct Tape Messiah himself. Rather than step into those shoes entirely, many artists on the album approach the task with some form of reinvention.
Riley Downing bucks this trend with his version of “Let Me Ride in Your Big Cadillac,” which sounds like it could have been pulled straight from the tapes of Foley’s first album (which, as the stories go, were confiscated by federal agents during a 1984 drug bust in which the album’s executive producer was arrested). A former garbage collector from rural Missouri, Downing reflects the many facets of American life through a lens like the one Foley was so apt at employing. Perhaps Downing knows that those big shoes fit him well.
