REVIEW: Bottle Rockets, Leftovers (Doolittle)
- Bill Holmes
Sometimes resilience is its own reward. Although the recent major label meltdown made meteor-sized headlines, bands being shed like so much dead skin is an age old ritual. Signed by Tag/Atlantic (the same label with the ears to grab Fountains Of Wayne) after the success of their indie debut for East Side Digital, the Bottle Rockets figured they had the best of both worlds. The new label promised wider distribution and publicity, and their stint at ESD hooked them up with Eric "Roscoe" Ambel, the closest thing y'alternative music has to a human divining rod. But Tag wasn't "it" for long, and ported to Atlantic they were just another legal liability on a dead sea scroll. So kiss momentum goodbye - out comes the obligatory record with a whimper instead of a bang, and into the tank go the rest of the tracks that were recorded. Needless to say, breaking a rootsy band is a hard job when you try. Not even trying is like pulling the plug on the respirator. After you forgot to turn it on in the first place.
Fortunately the band was able to walk away from Atlantic and the 24 Hours A Day sessions with their songs, which drummer Mark Ortmann says "didn't work with that particular album". Claiming inspiration from sources as diverse as Aerosmith and Merle Haggard, the sound of a Bottle Rockets record doesn't necessarily have a thematic flow anyway, so imagine what a collection of "leftovers" sounds like! Like most bands, there are a range of influences that sometimes play nice and sometimes head-butt each other. Leftovers is head-butt territory all the way; it contains some solid moments but is more enjoyable than it is essential.
The record starts with a sweet, pretty country tune "Get Down River", followed by the acoustic bluesy tone of "Dinner Train To Dutchtown"; both tracks feature yeoman work by Ambel. Then a trip down a much darker road with "Skip's Song", an appropriately somber homage to Skip Spence ("oars in the water/paddling's such a bore/acid and madness / and nothing more..."). But lest you think your head will bow forever, the strong 1-2 punch of "If Walls Could Talk" and "Financing His Romance" is but a short tune away. "Walls" is Bakersfield swing and George Jones in a Waring blender, which makes the country-fried pop-a-billy of "Romance" even more appealing. Vocals by guitarists Brian Henneman and Tom Parr are solid throughout, but especially good in that pair.
However, one reality jolt is the painful dirge "My Own Cadillac", which to these ears sounds like Neil Young at the wrong speed. Anguish and atonality have their place, but somehow this abandons the emotion and just becomes...noise. (Hold the letter bombs, I'm sure it has its appeal, but I haven't seemed to have been in the right mood for this one yet. I'm not sure I have a mood like that though). The "bonus track" is three minutes of almost silent passage... except for some light crickets chirping. Peace, at last? Or the sound of their last label doing nothing to promote their career?
Ironically, they went from a company that did little to a company called "Doolittle". With this stepping stone of "odds and sods" holding our attention, let's see what the boys can do when they release their new one later this Spring backed by a more artist-centered organization. (For more information, visit http://www.doolittle.com )
