Customer Reviews

Holiday in Dirt

5 star:		(10)
4 star:		(3)
3 star:		(2)
2 star:		(2)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

"Holidays in Dirt" is a remarkably cohesive album, considering that it's made up of rare and/or unreleased material. In fact, it holds up as well as any of Stan's better albums, and sounds more like an album than "Anatomy" (which to me felt more like it was cobbled together from bits and pieces).

HID has everything that has endured me to SR over the years. Losers and hard luck cases and guys named Pete whose lives didn't turn out quite the way they planned. Moments of joy and moments of desperation and moments of unbearable angst. Atmosphere pieces that make you check in the closets and under the bed.

Great stuff.

It was a nice idea for Stan to give his fans some unreleased tracks to munch on. There are some good songs here like "My Beloved Movie Star" both versions, "Garage Band '69", "Bing Can't Walk" and "Whatever Happened To You?" But some of the other songs are not as memorable such as "Time Inside", "Act Of Faith" or "Amnesia". As always, Stan's trademark quirky humor is present in abundance here, and what would a Ridgway cd be without it? "Holiday In Dirt" is a nice appetizer while we wait for new material.

Holiday In Dirt is a collection of rare and unreleased tracks, but it hangs together
well. While there's no unifying concept to the disc, it's cohesive and has a strong
sense of place. Ridgway is to Los Angeles as Lou Reed is to New York -- no place
else could have produced him. He mixes the traditional with the new and has an
openness to music as pure sound that comes, I think, from growing up in a city
whose major industry is movies. Working in that atmosphere (at least one website
indicates that Wall of Voodoo was formed to write music for low-budget movies)
may have suggested to him the dramatic possibilities of sound -- a particularly
important discovery for someone whose narratives are so complex.

Whatever his influences, the salient feature of Ridgway's discs is their sonic
richness. The quality of his recordings is especially impressive given that the last
three have been independent releases produced, one assumes, on limited
budgets. His discs have a lot going on in them, but everything's spread out across a
wide soundstage in a kind of aural Cinemascope. For all the sonic detail Ridgway
puts into his music, it rarely feels crowded. When a song does seem densely
packed, as does "End of the Line" here, it sounds intentionally so.

Holiday In Dirt contains two versions of "Beloved Movie Star" that shed some light
on how Ridgway works. The first version, which opens the disc, is a lush
arrangement that features a Duane Eddy-like guitar, drenched in reverb and
tremolo, and a strummed harp. Synthesizers and other keyboards create a wash of
sound that carries Ridgway's voice along. The second version is an earlier, demo
recording of the track. It's much more spare. The harp still plays a prominent role
and some of the keyboard touches that made their way to the finished track are
hinted at in this version, but, overall, it's less focused.

Ridgway says in the liner notes that he prefers the demo, which is a little longer. I
disagree; his instincts were correct when he revised the lyrics and altered his
approach. He changed one verse and removed another altogether and sings in a
less-inflected voice. The result is not just a tighter recording, but a stronger, more
compassionate story. The vocals on the demo feel condescending, and the original
verses needlessly restate some harsh observations about the perils of the movie
business.

What I found striking when I played the two versions side by side is how, even in a
demo, Ridgway knows sonically what he wants to achieve. Certainly there are
musical elements that are more developed in the final recording and details are
added, but the overall feel is there at the beginning. As the music became more
clearly defined, Ridgway toned down the vocals and cut some lyrics, in effect
streamlining the story and allowing the music to evoke a deeper story than the
words tell.

One of the most enjoyable aspects of Ridgway's music is his willingness to bring in
ideas from sources far and wide. If a surf guitar is what will put his idea across, he'll
use it. A particularly strong influence appears to be film composer Ennio Morricone
-- listen to the way Ridgway uses harmonica in a tune like "Time Inside." He doesn't
recycle ideas, though. He borrows techniques in order to create an atmosphere for
the story he's telling. In that sense, there's an almost cinematic quality to his work.

The recordings for Holiday In Dirt come from several sources and they vary in
quality from very good to DIY. Ridgway is so sure of his goals that he isn't going to
et our notions of audiophile sound get in his way of creating an effect. For instance,
one of the tunes, "Amnesia," was "sung through a three-inch, battery-powered
speaker from Radio Shack. I really liked the sound." He's right; it sounds great. So
oes the rest of the disc.

Stan Ridgway exists in the Artist's Limbo that belongs to cult figures who aren't Tom Waits, Elvis Costello, or Marianne Faithful. No press, just a lonely cadre of fans...

It's a hodgepodge of bits and pieces left off other records, and as such, is a great B-side collection. His electronic dust-bowl music (pinned down by tasteful acoustic rhythm guitar and the occasional electric lead) carries it's wonderful atmosphere throughout the collection. There are snags, of course. "End of the Line" has not only been included on another collection, but it's not nearly as good as he thinks it is. And occasionally his reliance on electronics does him in, as is the case on ....well a few tracks just end up seeming dated, that's all.

It's not his fault.

This is music noir, mystery on a CD....great Raymond Chandler narratives (Ridgway is more of a hardboiled storyteller than anything else)...and well, desert folk-rock, if such a thing exists...

Great but not legendary....so, 4 stars.

Perhaps it says something that I reserved a copy of this CD months before it was released. That bias disclosed, this is perhaps Stan's most lovely gem. Ridgway's songs are truly gem-like in that they have deep, rich colors and clear reflective surfaces both musically and lyrically. These are cuts that never made his prior albums, but they are by no means second-stringers.

Some highlights:

"Beloved Movie Star" has a terrific chorused Strat lick couple with rich doubled vocals, and tells the story a fans infatuation with a matinee idol. He even puts a harp to good us in creating a bright, textured sound.

"Operator Help Me" starts with percussive piano chords keeping time with a quasi-western beat. "Operator help me, there's sound out in the street. And it just keeps getting louder as I speak. No one here to help me as I live here all alone. But the street his as always is my home. As the sun goes down and all the people go inside, yeah they lock their doors ... Nobody comes until a body hits the ground and you send somebody to stop this sound."

"Time Inside" has a jazzy feel with a interesting chord progression of major and minor chords, coupled with a great base line and nice guitar work. Love the melodic switches. A bit of a Led Zeppelin guitar sound.

"End of the Line" is a straightforward early solo-style song reminiscent of his first album after Wall of Voodoo.

It gets better and better as you listen.

More, Stan, more!

"I wish I was in Tijuana/Eating barbecued iguana." Stan Ridgway could have had no idea when he penned those lines twenty years ago that they would be some of the most enduring lyrics from the New Wave era. Unfortunately, "Mexican Radio," the song from which they are taken, remains most folks' only exposure to one of modern rock music's most unique and underrated talents. First as the leader of Wall Of Voodoo and, since departing that act in 1983, as a solo artist (with infrequent outings with the outfit Drywall), Ridgway has compiled a body of work that defies category, garnering a cult following while only on occasion earning much airplay ("Drive She Said," "Don't Box Me In"). You don't so much listen to a Stan Ridgway album as "watch" it, full of four-minute film noirs delivered in an adenoidal voice that oddly resembles The B-52s' Fred Schneider. It's like stumbling into some remote cantina south of the border and striking up a conversation with some mysterious Harry Dean Stanton-type with stories to tell, and on Holiday In Dirt there's no shortage of tales.

The twelve-song collection is actually B-sides and unreleased tracks that hadn't made the cut for previous releases not because they lack merit but because, according to the liner notes (which, by the way, are more clever than the music on most albums), they didn't fit. Despite this cut and paste approach, it's a surprisingly seamless set that's bookended by two different versions of "Beloved Movie Star," a lazy, loping saga of vanishing dreams, punctuated (or perhaps mocked) by wife Pietra Wexstun's flourishes on harp.

There's a lot of desperation and paranoia here (no surprise to anyone familiar with Ridgway's work). The jittery, sparse "Operator Help Me" is an eavesdropping session on a cowering
urbanite facing home invasion and "End Of The Line" (which, musically, recalls Wall Of Voodoo's "Call Of The West") certainly sounds like it with the foreboding warning, "You'll have to
even up with me at the end of the line." Meanwhile, on the cryptically titled "Bing Can't Walk" (consult the liner notes) he assumes the guise of a leg breaker, singing the words with gusto
over a spastic melody which sounds almost gleeful.

Although the material on Holiday In Dirt is darkly-tinged, it's not all dark. Much of it is delivered with wry bemusement as on "Whatever Happened To You?" (inspired by someone asking Ridgway the titular question). He captures innocence and hope on "Garage Band '69," with the grand dreams "powered up by love and electricity," and is heartbreakingly poignant on
"Amnesia," one of two tracks featuring ex-Circle Jerk Zander Schloss. As for the lovely "Act Of Faith," it would seem a natural fit to be covered by Johnny Cash. Of course, be sure to stick
around for the hidden track, a hysterical send-up of Charlie Rich's "Behind Closed Doors."

Like some troubadour of old, Stan Ridgway has bounced from label to label, never quite earning the widespread appreciation or recognition for his considerable talents. Perhaps that more than anything gives the songs on Holiday In Dirt such an authentic, well-worn feel. It's also reassuring to note that Ridgway always seems to surface again, and that's a comforting notion.

Few contemporary artists do lonely as well as he does, while still leaving the listener feeling less alone. Tom Demalon

You're driving along a deserted desert highway in....oh, say...New Mexico, on a warm summer evening. Along your journey, you stop in a a few bars, gas staions, diners, and small towns. Somehow, you manage to climb inside the heads of a few of the local characters, and get a synopsis of their lives. None of these folks are probably heroes, or villans. Just average folk, trying to get by. Ridgway does an amazing job of bringing local color, and character development into songs only a few minutes long. Each one is a brief escape into someones world other than your own. I guess I have been hooked on this artist since Wall of Voodoo did "Mexican Radio". Good music, nicely recorded, unusual but strangely compelling stories. Kind of like an non-SciFi version of X-Files. Buy it.

"I wish I was in Tijuana/Eating barbecued iguana." Stan Ridgway could have had no idea when he penned those lines twenty years ago that they would be some of the most enduring lyrics from the New Wave era. Unfortunately, "Mexican Radio," the song from which they are taken, remains most folks' only exposure to one of modern rock music's most unique and underrated talents. First as the leader of Wall Of Voodoo and, since departing that act in 1983, as a solo artist (with infrequent outings with the outfit Drywall), Ridgway has compiled a body of work that defies category, garnering a cult following while only on occasion earning much airplay ("Drive She Said," "Don't Box Me In"). You don't so much listen to a Stan Ridgway album as "watch" it, full of four-minute film noirs delivered in an adenoidal voice that oddly resembles The B-52s' Fred Schneider. It's like stumbling into some remote cantina south of the border and striking up a conversation with some mysterious Harry Dean Stanton-type with stories to tell, and on Holiday In Dirt there's no shortage of tales.

The twelve-song collection is actually B-sides and unreleased tracks that hadn't made the cut for previous releases not because they lack merit but because, according to the liner notes (which, by the way, are more clever than the music on most albums), they didn't fit. Despite this cut and paste approach, it's a surprisingly seamless set that's bookended by two different versions of "Beloved Movie Star," a lazy, loping saga of vanishing dreams, punctuated (or perhaps mocked) by wife Pietra Wexstun's flourishes on harp.

There's a lot of desperation and paranoia here (no surprise to anyone familiar with Ridgway's work). The jittery, sparse "Operator Help Me" is an eavesdropping session on a cowering
urbanite facing home invasion and "End Of The Line" (which, musically, recalls Wall Of Voodoo's "Call Of The West") certainly sounds like it with the foreboding warning, "You'll have to
even up with me at the end of the line." Meanwhile, on the cryptically titled "Bing Can't Walk" (consult the liner notes) he assumes the guise of a leg breaker, singing the words with gusto
over a spastic melody which sounds almost gleeful.

Although the material on Holiday In Dirt is darkly-tinged, it's not all dark. Much of it is delivered with wry bemusement as on "Whatever Happened To You?" (inspired by someone asking Ridgway the titular question). He captures innocence and hope on "Garage Band '69," with the grand dreams "powered up by love and electricity," and is heartbreakingly poignant on
"Amnesia," one of two tracks featuring ex-Circle Jerk Zander Schloss. As for the lovely "Act Of Faith," it would seem a natural fit to be covered by Johnny Cash. Of course, be sure to stick
around for the hidden track, a hysterical send-up of Charlie Rich's "Behind Closed Doors."

Like some troubadour of old, Stan Ridgway has bounced from label to label, never quite earning the widespread appreciation or recognition for his considerable talents. Perhaps that more than anything gives the songs on Holiday In Dirt such an authentic, well-worn feel. It's also reassuring to note that Ridgway always seems to surface again, and that's a comforting notion.

Few contemporary artists do lonely as well as he does, while still leaving the listener feeling less alone. Tom Demalon

Stan Ridgway is not for everybody, agreed. However, I have never ever grown tired of listening to any of his songs. When I heard that he had a CD of unreleased songs, I might have been a tad suspect. However, I remembered that I liked every one of his songs he ever made. So I bought this CD and I love it. Moreover, with "My Beloved Movie Star", Stan delivers one of his greatest songs to date. This guy is the Patron Saint of LA Honkey Tonk on a Casio. I can't get enough.

Though Stan Ridgway first made his mark in the early 1980s with new wave synth-rockers Wall of Voodoo (one of the most distinctive bands of their era), his subsequent solo career has continually shown that his talents extend far beyond his former band's lone hit (the semi-novelty "Mexican Radio"). Over the years Ridgway's recordings have marked him as a crafty songwriter with a gift for exploring the dark side of America via sardonic narratives that nod to Randy Newman and Donald Fagen. HOLIDAY IN DIRT is a collection of b-sides and other rarities from the extensive Ridgway oeuvre, but Ridgway's songwriting knack is such that none of these tunes feel like castoffs. As always, Ridgway's melodic invention transcends genre in an often-successful search for original-sounding, distinctive musical frameworks nevertheless bound to conventional rock hardware. Though his penchant for film-noir creepiness and his sui generis voice will strike a familiar chord with Wall of Voodoo admirers, this eclectic, ambitious batch of songs is as worthy a part of Ridgway's canon as any of his "proper" releases.