Published on Jul 31, 2000
I admittedly got into country music late in the game (or, at
least, as late as an almost-30-year-old can get), so there are many
artists whose work I’ve never gotten the chance to appreciate. And
the longer I do this job, the more exposure I get to such artists
as Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash – even Garth Brooks, after a
fashion.
So after I’ve finished
Seven Decades, the latest release from Hank Thompson, I have
to wonder out loud why Thompson is not as well known as Cash is.
This disc serves more than as a celebration of the music Thompson
knows and loves; it suggests that Thompson should be as famous as
some of the more well-known names in this genre.
Thompson is reminiscent of such singing cowboys as Roy Rogers
and Gene Autry, though he has the devilish wink of Cash’s sense of
humor in his delivery of the material (even if, vocally, he’s not
quite as strong as Cash). How he can swiftly maneuver through this
collection of old standbys and new material while making everything
sound fresh and new is truly amazing.
Need more proof than just my word for the comparisons? Take a
listen to “The Night Miss Nancy Ann’s Hotel For Single Girls Burned
Down,” or “Abdul Abulbul Amir,” or even the newer compositions
“Condo In Hondo” or “Medicine Man,” and discover that Thompson
makes the material sound like you’re listening to it in the front
row of a small stage in a bar. It’s up-front, in your face, and
it’s enjoyable as anything imaginable.
And while
Seven Decades does feature older songs like “Wreck Of The
Old ’97,” “Scotch And Soda” and “In The Jailhouse Now,” this is
hardly a nostalgia trip that Thompson takes the listener on. The
way Thompson and his bandmates attack the material, it matters not
whether the song is a year or five decades old; it’s in the
delivery, which they nail head-on.
Sure, if you’re not used to the older style of country, the 36
minutes this album encompasses might seem a little long at first.
But the more time you spend with it, the more comfortable it will
become, not unlike an old pair of tennis shoes. (And, if it helps,
break the album up into two or three listens, and treat each trip
to the CD player like you’re listening to a few short stories.)
Seven Decades is the kind of album that proves Thompson
should have been a bigger star than he presently is – and it may
make some people feel sad that they didn’t give him more attention
in his (and their own) youth.