Dwight Yoakam is a purist and a reactionary,
but that doesn’t make him any less of a rebel. Despite his
old-school Bakersfield twang and unabashed reverence for golden-era
honky-tonkers Buck Owens and Merle Haggard, Yoakam has never been a
retro act, nor has he ever stooped to hokey parody or knee-jerk
stylistic detours. When he began performing in the early
’80s, the Kentucky-born Californian was the darling of the
nascent cowpunk scene, sharing the stage with fellow LA insurgents
the Blasters, X, and Los Lobos. His 1986 debut, Guitars, Cadillacs, Etc., Etc., was at once a classic-country triumph and a raised
middle finger to the punishing hegemony of Nashville, which had all
but obliterated trad twang in the service of bland crossover pop.
Nashville hasn’t changed much in the
past two decades, and neither has Yoakam. What makes him radical is
his devotion to the traditional; even his take on Cheap
Trick’s “I Want You to Want Me” sounds like a
long-lost Lefty Frizzell number, or at least something Lefty might
have covered had he lived long enough. Listeners who equate
artistic development with the compulsive reinvention of the self
won’t find much to admire in Yoakam, whose talents have only
ripened over the years. The less fickle among us will be grateful
that some artists care more about delivering the goods than spewing
out hits for contemporary-country radio or spoon-feeding ledes to
jaded critics.
Blame the Vain, Yoakam’s
newest CD, doesn’t sound like a dramatic departure, but it
does mark a couple of significant changes: It’s his first
release for New West and his first without Pete Anderson, the
brilliant producer/guitarist who worked with Yoakam over 21 years
and 17 albums. Assuming production duties for the first time,
Yoakam wrote all 12 of the songs and performed them with a fresh cast of
supporting musicians, most notably the thirtysomething hotshot Keith
Gattis, whose searing Telecaster leads invigorate even the weepiest of
ballads. Legendary Motown percussionist Bobbye Hall and former Ventures
guitarist Gerry McGee make memorable guest appearances, adding depth
and variety to a crack band of seasoned country veterans.
Notwithstanding the personnel shake-up, Blame the Vain won’t
disappoint loyal fans. Yoakam continues to mine the same sonic
territory but with a new playfulness and sense of purpose. With its
pealing guitars, incandescent harmonies, and Beatlesque chorus, the
title track is a classic Yoakam heartbreaker — self-mocking
rather than self-pitying, sad but never depressing. True to form,
Yoakam pays homage to his mentors without slavishly mimicking them.
“I’ll Pretend” cribs the chug-a-lug momentum and
sprightly minimalism of “I Walk the Line” without
coming off like a total Johnny Cash ripoff, the
pedal-steel-drenched “Does It Show” sounds like vintage
Haggard, and Yoakam channels the King himself on the hiccuppy
barn-burner “Three Good Reasons.” From the ambrosial
Jimmy Webb-inspired string arrangements of “The Last Heart in
Line” to the schizoid tempo shifts of “Watch
Out,” Yoakam proves that new insights can emerge from
time-tested templates, and the results are consistently satisfying.
Despite a couple of goofy missteps (the
proggish synths and spectacularly awful British accent that open
“She’ll Remember” are good for a few yuks and not
much else), Yoakam understands where his genius lies: in that
supple, high-lonesome croon and the exquisite melodies he crafts to
showcase it. Blame the Vain won’t catapult this hillbilly visionary to
commercial stardom, but Nashville’s loss is our gain. The
Ford-shilling, tank-top-wearing, industry-issued Clear Channel
hustlers can smolder and preen all they want; Yoakam is the real
deal.
This article appears in Aug 4-10, 2005.
