REVIEW: R.B. Morris, Zeke and the Wheel (Koch)
- Matt Fink
With the 1000's of albums released every year, music reviewers, like the music buying public, often find themselves appealing to an old friend known as hearsay in order to streamline the process and find the discs that could possibly appeal to them. You could literally listen to music every waking moment of every day and there would probably still be five to ten excellent albums that would fall through the cracks, so every scrap of evidence that can be found is added into the final verdict on whether you want to invest your time and money into the album in question.
This brings us to the new disc by singer-songwriter/poet R.B. Morris, which caught my eye with words of support from Steve Earle. Now it should be pointed out that Earle's quotes can be found on quite a number of albums, as it appears that either he runs with a fantastically talented crowd or he's a little too generous with his accolades. Of course, it should be noted that Earle's tastes are not above reproach, seeing that he is the same man who volunteered to take over the lead singer gig for Lynyrd Skynyrd before they declined. Either way, he has yet to let me down.
From the very first track of Zeke and the Wheel we see why Earle would be drawn to R.B Morris' songwriting. Morris is visceral, gritty, honest and very literate. In short, he has many of the qualities that Earle can boast himself. Alternating between darkly swinging roots rock to melodic country-folk, Morris is quickly gaining a reputation for his philosophical and highly descriptive musings. He doesn't write a bad hook, either.
Sounding like Bruce Springsteen with the breathy vocals and spooky reverb on the title track, quickly giving way to the simple understated Earle-esque folk in "Maybe the Soul," Morris seems capable of wearing several hats well. Morris sounds positively like Bob Dylan with the ringing organ and philosophical/spiritual themes of the blues-rock groove of "Distillery." Shimmering waves of electric guitar wrapped around the vivid imagery of lonely cabins and icy winds, "A Winter's Tale" is a fine example of the thematic qualities Morris brings to his music, as he has also been a playwright when not making music.
Only four songs into the album, Morris definitely has the listener on the ropes, but he never quite delivers a finishing blow to push this set to the next level. The muscular Jayhawks-like country-rock of "You My Love" and the sharp country-soul of "Lest We All Lose" are highlights, but the noisy dissonance of the strange rap "Call Me Zeke" and the distorted rockabilly growl of "Long Arm of the Law," which sounds a little too much like the Reverend Horton Heat, don't work nearly as well.
R.B Morris might have a quintessential album in him. He obviously has all the tools. He is a rare breed of songwriter who actually has the talent to deliver on the ambitions that he wears on his sleeve. My prediction: one more album and he's golden, two more and he's divine. Steve Earle was right again.
