:: Jim White - Wrong-Eyed Jesus! / No Such Place / Drill A Hole In That Substrate And Tell Me What You See

Jim White

Jim White hasn‘t always been alt country. In his own words: “For twenty years I'd written these dark little songs, every once in a while I'd play them for someone and they'd shout, 'Stop! That sucks so bad it makes my ears pop!’, then a thing called alt country came along and, boom, all of a sudden everyone‘s hollering 'Jim, you're a friggin’ genius!' I mean, what happened?” Lucky for us that the capricious gods of music fashion decided to shine their light on Jim, for in 1997, after being picked up by David Byrne's (Talking Heads founding member) Luaka Bop label, he was able to release his beguiling debut.

Wrong-Eyed Jesus! is an album of rare and unique quality. White‘s music is steeped in the muggy heat and religious fervour of the American South. These songs are wonderfully told stories of broken hearts, redemption and the myriad characters that cross our lives. A supremely talented storyteller (just take a look at 'The Mysterious Tale of How I Shouted “Wrong-Eyed Jesus!” A True Story by Jim White’ inside the debut‘s cover), White employs various characters to give voice to his poetic tales. Some are delivered in a wonderfully languid, half-slurred cadence. On 'When Jesus Gets A Brand New Name’, an aged Tom Waits croak is utilised, which perfectly suits the musical melee of an errant brass combo barging in on a skiffle jam, joined by kids bashing on upturned saucepans, whilst someone in the corner prods a synthesiser. Elsewhere we have a falsetto, the fragility of which brings to mind Neil Young. One such track is the exceptional ‘Sleepy Town’, which builds quietly from a vulnerable voice accompanied by a lone banjo, and somehow stumbles into being a work of magical beauty.

Throughout this recording, Paul Rabjohns' production is sublime, gently enveloping the listener in this bewitching, dreamlike world of confided secrets. The music is multi-layered but never cramped, always having ample space to breathe, and evocative of wide open spaces under crystal clear night skies. Unfortunately for Jim, his considerable talent and burgeoning popularity did nothing to improve his personal life which was, by his own account, in tatters. Broke and estranged from his pregnant girlfriend, he found himself living in a borrowed caravan. A much-needed career-boost came with the introduction of several guest producers, amongst them British trip-hoppers Morcheeba (who had also managed to ameliorate David Byrne's solo output when they guested as producers on 1997's Feelings). The resulting Morcheeba-produced material became a major part of his second LP and won him a publishing deal with Chrysalis, which thankfully put an end to his impecunious circumstances.

2001‘s No Such Place retained White's oddball storytelling and idiosyncratic folk-songs but this time, due to the new production aesthetic, the arrangements are tighter and hipper, although, inevitably a little of the ramshackle charm has been lost. Certain tracks find him stretching, experimenting with rhythmic spoken-word, which has the likes of Buck 65 and a heavily sedated G. Love in its peripheral vision. This new style can work to great effect as on the disturbing 'The Wound That Never Heals’ and the fluid rhyming of ‘Hey! You Going My Way???’.
The shimmering ‘Corvair’ (dead car as metaphor for existential stagnation) takes us back to the bruised melancholy of the previous album. The exemplary production skills of Sohichiro Suzuki create a piece of ethereal grace as cymbal crashes are stretched out into unworldly aural brush-strokes.

There is undoubtedly some incredible music here, but at times, such as the pedestrian ‘Ghost-Town Of My Brain’ and his needless, execrable cover of Roger Miller‘s 'King Of The Road’, the trip-hop sheen and soporific rapping appears deliberated and rather small-hearted, sitting awkwardly alongside the more natural pieces.
Regrettably, White has chosen to pursue this change of direction, and his latest offering, Drill A Hole In That Substrate And Tell Me What You See, is disappointing to say the least. It certainly is a consistent album, the majority of the tracks here being universally bland, even Aimee Mann‘s mellifluous vocals struggle to lift the monochrome opening track 'Static On The Radio’. As the album progresses, the nagging question is just where are the songs? This is not an awful record, but next to the skewed brilliance of his previous work, it appears very ordinary indeed.

Producer Joe Henry has made a ham-fisted job of emulating his predecessors, and is at times so self-consciously cool, as to be embarrassing. The alt country has been sucked out and replaced with over-cooked Morcheeba-aping nonsense. The lengthy outro to ‘Combing My Hair In A Brand New Style’ in a desperate attempt to ingratiate itself to a younger audience presents us with a dull dance interlude akin to M-People with writer‘s block. Perhaps all this can be blamed on poor choice of producer, for the 'secret’ extra track ‘Land Called Home’ is like a breath of fresh air and the strongest track by far. Tellingly, this song is produced by Paul Rabjohns. We can only hope that he is back on board for White's next outing.