Published on Oct 13, 1997
People have been telling me for years that I should drink more
red wine. They badger me about hanging back with the smoother
Rieslings and white Zins. But they’re up against one basic problem:
I don’t like the taste of red. My palate, you see, hasn’t matured
enough yet to appreciate the finer points of this woody, acidic,
blood-colored swill.
I suspect a lot of people feel about John Hiatt roughly the way
I feel about red wine.
Sure, the critics have generally been kind to him in recent
years, and he’s made friends out of a lot of bigger names who’ve
scored hits covering his songs (it seems probable there’s a large
package under his tree every year from Bonnie “Thing Called Love”
Raitt). But that reedy, raspy voice, that quirky sense of humor,
the dizzying array of lyrical allusions, those frequent shifts in
musical style… yes, Virginia, John Hiatt is an acquired taste.
But anyone who fancies him or herself a connoisseur of smart,
punchy, rootsy music can’t earn the title without giving this guy a
spin.
Little Head is somewhat of an oddball album even for a guy
who’s gone through as many musical phases as singer-songwriter
Hiatt. Neither as hard-rocking as 1993’s
Perfectly Good Guitar, nor as thoughtful as the
highly-regarded
Bring The Family (1987) or the recent country-folk tinged
Walk On (1995),
Little Head instead unfurls like one big inside joke.
First there’s the title track, a barroom thumper featuring David
Immergluck (master of all things stringed) on what could only be
described as “bee-sting” guitar and Hiatt giving up three hilarious
verses about the dominant organ the human male possesses – or
rather, is possessed by. That he does it while managing to rhyme
“Eddie Vedder” in context only adds to the festivities. He also has
a grand time playing the blue-eyed R & B lounge crooner on “My
Sweet Girl” and “After All This Time,” capturing the smooth, smoky
rhythm and seductive tone to perfection while holding tongue firmly
in cheek. (You were expecting maybe upright bass? Immergluck plays
sitar on the latter track.)
As always, though, the keys to the Hiatt kingdom are to be found
at the intersection of his wit and his startling intelligence.
“Graduated” sets the story of two lovers facing up to the fact
they’ve grown apart to a blues groove that builds steadily to a
sing-along climax that’s celebratory and sad all at once. Faster
and funnier, “Woman Sawed in Half” teases with a cheesy five-second
Hammond organ riff before diving into a pulsating hook whose
acceleration reflects the confusion of the title character, a woman
with divided loyalties. The raucous “Sure Pinocchio”-my personal
favorite-features a killer lead, fat Tower of Power horns and a
lyric anyone who’s ever gotten mixed up with a pathological liar (I
speak from experience) can’t help but smile at: “You took my heart
/ The check’s in the mail / We’ll do lunch / When you get outta
jail / Sure Pinocchio / Anything you say…”
Hiatt rounds out the album with a couple of melancholy
ruminations on departed lovers that don’t match up to past tries at
this sort of thing (“Runaway” and “Far As We Go”) and a cut clearly
designed to be The Single (“Pirate Radio”) that’s long on drive and
melody but unfortunately short on the kind of original observations
that make Hiatt something special.
Is this his best? No, for that try
Walk On or
Bring The Family. But hey, they say you should ease into red
wines by starting at the lighter end of the spectrum. If that’s the
case, then
Little Head makes for an entertaining first glass.