July 4, 1997
Let's face it - the baby boomers are getting older, and can't handle the loud rock and roll music anymore. But they still want to be hip, up on the new trends, so where do they turn? Enter the Hot New Country to save the day, championed by local stations like 97.5 W Low IQ, purveyors of slick, overproduced twangy rock and roll. Easy listening with a back beat, hairspray and rhinestones; flavorless but palatable, this stuff is easily marketable to that demographic which is no longer flexible enough to do the twist but can Nazi-two step with the best of them. Whatever happened to real, honest country?
It was driven underground, that's what. For those who miss the real goods or haven't discovered what the best of country can offer, Uncle Tupelo is your panacea. Originally tying country's sensibilities to punk's passion on their seminal debut No Depression, their third and final release Anodyne shows the band dramatically mellowing their sonic attack to delve deep into the heartland.
Songs like "Chickamauga" still display flashes of their punk roots with caterwauling electric guitar. But most of Anodyne has the wise, timeless feel of Hank Williams. Fiddle, lap steel and pedal steel are played direct, without condescension or even nostalgia - their brand of country rock is played with fluid assurance, tied to sharp, contemporary songwriting. Uncle Tupelo show a knowledge and love for a fertile root of rock that is frequently overlooked or derided, and Anodyne's gorgeous, melancholy feel reasserts country's emotional punch. The moaning dobro in "Fifteen Keys", the lovely fiddle of "Slate" and both Jay Farrar and Jeff Tweedy's heartfelt vocals are testament to Uncle Tupelo's honest devotion. Anodyne achieves a haunting, prairie grace that Garth Brooks can only dream of.
- Jared O'Connor
Soulful, gritty country