Published on Feb 26, 2001
I remember working at a country music radio station in the late
eighties and not being terribly impressed with Rodney Crowell.
About the only thing that stuck in my head is that he was married
for a while to Roseanne Cash; his music was, to me, eminently
forgettable. As I get older, I’ve become more interested in country
and western and other forms of American roots music, but I admit
that had you told me two weeks ago I’d be saying kind things about
a Rodney Crowell CD, I’d be surprised.
Guess what, kids? This review is going to be chock-full of kind
things.
The Houston Kid is one of the more enjoyable musical stories
I’ve ever had told to me. Crowell turns an unflinching eye on
growing up poor in Houston, telling his own stories as well as the
stories of others he knew. He’s not asking for sympathy, and he’s
not excusing his behavior; he’s merely documenting life in dark and
light shades. Comparisons can be made to Bruce Springsteen, or Tom
Petty, or even Harry Chapin, but this is Crowell’s story, told in
Crowell’s voice, and needs to be treated as such.
The thing that impacted the most on first listen was the brutal
honesty of the music. The sharp edge of alcoholism, poverty, abuse,
and prejudice is only rarely sheathed; songs like “The Rock Of My
Soul” and “Topsy Turvy” are almost tangibly painful, Crowell’s
smooth voice and easy musicianship at odds with the glass-studded
wires of the lyrics. “Why Don’t We Talk About It” is a
tongue-in-cheek documentation of Crowell looking in the mirror at
being who he is. The brutal counterpoint of “I Wish It Would Rain”
and “Wandering Boy”, the stories of two twin brothers who walked
very different paths, is the musical equivalent of a freight train.
This is not music for the faint of heart; Crowell’s world and past
have been downright ugly in places, and he isn’t interested in
pulling his punches.
It’s not all darkness, though. “I Walk The Line Revisited” is a
sweet, well-written tribute to the first time Crowell heard Johnny
Cash, and it’s a clever, heartfelt snapshot of a single moment in
time. “U Don’t Know How Much I Hate U” is one of the funniest
back-handed love songs I’ve ever heard, and “Banks Of The Old
Bandera” is a wistful bit of nostalgia. The CD closes with the
rough-hewn benediction of “I Know Love Is All I Need”, and you know
that no matter how battered the singer or how rough the road, for a
moment there’s peace. And in a way, that’s all you can ask for.
The Houston Kid is a CD of stories, in a way that very
little music manages today. It hearkens back to the best of the
modern bards. There is no question that it’s worth adding to your
collection.