Customer Reviews

Houston Kid

5 star:		(51)
4 star:		(6)
3 star:		(3)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(3)

 

 

Houston sits along the fertile crescent of the Texas Gulf Coast, plagued by mosquitoes and insufferable heat and the occasional hurricane. Music is a melting pot of blues, country, Cajun zydeco, Tex Mex and rock and roll. Houston's top musical stars are not quite like anyone else: ZZ Top, Lightnin' Hopkins, Geto Boys, Destiny's Child to name a few.

Rodney Crowell is perhaps Houston's finest country export, a stellar performer and producer and a world-class songwriter who's penned hits for people like Emmylou Harris and his ex-wife Rosanne Cash (not to mention his own smash album "Diamonds and Dirt"). His new one, "The Houston Kid" puts Rodney back on the mean streets of the Bayou City, with a semi-autobiographical song cycle chock full of references to local landmarks and customs. (By the way, that's PRINCE'S drive-in he mentions in "Telephone Road," still the best place for cheeseburgers in Houston, but misprinted in the CD's lyrics.)

What a tuneful batch of songs, swinging from the upbeat nostalgia of "Telephone Road" to the Springsteen/Nebraska-like "Highway 17." "I Walk the Line (Revisited)" is about as joyous a piece of country-rock as you'll liable to hear anywhere and even the guest vocalist (The Man In Black) sounds strong and invigorated.

Crowell's genius is penning lyrics that feel fresh and raw like a scraped knee and hanging them on inventive but comfortable melodies. Songs like "Banks of the Old Bandera" have an unbearable sense of loss, then right on its heels there's "Topsy Turvy" that masks its pain with an uptempo beat.

Americana radio ought to embrace this new Crowell CD, and if it would get played on commercial radio it sure would open some ears. "The Houston Kid" is a real gem.

This is an impressive return to form from an artist who has struggled artistically and commercially for much of the last decade. Like fellow Texan Willie Nelson, Crowell had the misfortune to write his most memorable songs before he became a star. "Ain't Livin Long Like This," "Til I Gain Control Again"and "Leavin' Louisiana" were hits soon after Crowell departed from Emmylou Harris' Hot Band, but they were hits for other artists. Crowell recorded three solid albums for Warner Brothers that didn't sell. It wasn't until his stay on Epic Records beginning in the mid Eighties that Rodney Crowell became a bona fide country star, with strong material that seemed to point to a new direction in Nashville. He recorded three wonderful albums that became big sellers, the best being the wonderful (and recently reissued) "Diamonds and Dirt." Along with then-wife Rosanne Cash, Emmylou Harris, Steve Earle, Lyle Lovett, Nanci Griffith and Kathy Mattea, Crowell seemed at the vanguard of an ambitious movement of songwriters and performers that could transform country music into something more than rural pop music. For a few years, these artists had some significant commercial and artistic successes, and the future seemed bright.

Well, unfortunately, it didn't last. Country turned in less ambitious and serious directions. Garth Brooks, Shania Twain, and a legion of faceless cowboy-hatted singers came to dominate the charts. Rodney Crowell and these other talented artists stopped selling, at least to country audiences. As the Nineties went on, Crowell's songwriting recordings seemed less confident and inspired, and his career came to standstill. A messy divorce from Cash further damaged his image.

Happily, "The Houston Kid" is a remarkable return to form. Freed from the burdens of recording for a major label, Crowell has created the most heartfelt and personal recording of his long career. Inspired by his complex and often turbulent childhood, and a troubling relationship with his father, Crowell has produced a solid batch of songs that are reflective but never morose, and only grow in power with repeated listening. Crowell's tenor voice, never his strongest attribute, has aged well and is the perfect instrument to covey this material. The opening "Telephone Road" and "Highway 17" are personal favorites. Former father-in-law Johnny Cash makes an effective cameo appearance on "I Walk the Line (Revisited)."

Fans of what currently passes for country music probably won't appreciate this fine album, but if you value intelligent songwriting and singing, this is for you. Here's hoping that "The Houston Kid" is the beginning of a second renaissance for Rodney Crowell.

I'm so glad I held off reviewing "The Houston Kid" for a while...waiting allowed me to write this review after seeing Rodney in concert, and I can't begin to say how much hearing these songs live made me appreciate them even more. Songs like "The Rock Of My Soul", "I Wish It Would Rain" and "Wandering Boy" bacame even more hushed and haunting; it was almost like we were sitting around the fireplace, at Grampa Rodney's feet, listening to him strum and tell tales. However, you don't have to hear these songs live to A) appreciate what gems they are and B) realize this CD may very well be Crowell's career masterpiece. Long a heartfelt, honest songwriter, he's never been moreso - almost nakedly - than on "The Houston Kid." It's best to go into "The Houston Kid" acknowledging that, yes, there's an autobiographical element to the CD, but it's not necessary to take everything at face value. Being aware of the fact that Crowell, first and foremost, is a top-notch (song) writer makes the listening process a whole lot easier. Opening up the CD is the rollicking "Telephone Road", which sets the pace for the whole album. With dead-on, picture perfect lyrics such as "barefoot heathens running wild and free", "there's a chinaberry tree I remember I used to climb in and out of my window" and "sawdust spread out on a dancehall floor jukebox ripping at an all out roar", you know Crowell is reaching back for images that were cataloged and filed away long ago, and he's taking us along for the ride. Other highlights on the CD include "Why Don't We Talk About It", a regret-tinged ode to trying to change and realizing that opening up to others has it's pluses, and "Highway 17", one of the best country story songs of the last twenty-five years. Another track worthy of particular attention is "Banks Of The Old Bandera." Sort of a "You can never go home again" song, there's both a sadness and beauty to it's melancholy. Actually, in many ways, the whole message behind this song is that you can go home, but if you do the memories you have may not be there and, even if there are, they may not be the ones you think you have. The simplicity and universality of this track is simply amazing. Wrapping up the CD are two tracks that kind of serve as bookends. "Topsy Turvy" is a biting, punch-in-the-gut rocker that doesn't cut corners or mince words. Seen from the perspective of a child who knows exactly what is going on and who hates both the situation as well as all those involved, "Topsy Turvy" is brutally honest..."I don't like a thing about the way we live" just about says it all. On the flipside of the emotional coin is "I Know Love Is All I Need." This quiet, somewhat wistful number tenderly states the fact that we all have to take the bad with the good....a task made easier if we're able to open up our hearts, forgive and move on. In closing, I think it's best to quote Stevie Nicks....Rodney Crowell has always been "a poet......yet....a priest of nothing." This poetic gift has never been more apparent than it is here, as he shares with us what it was like to be "The Houston Kid."

"The Houston Kid" may be the strongest over-all work Crowell has ever done. All 11 songs on this recording are top notch stuff. Crowell is more introspective on this work than any of his previous recordings, and some of those were outstanding as well. It's great to see him recover from the past few years of struggle (Let the Picture Paint Itself). He more than makes up for making us wait with this work. I especially enjoyed "The Rock of My Soul", "Why Don't We Talk About It" and "Topsy Turvy". His duet with Johnny Cash was also memorable. And this is the first time I'd ever heard him perform "Banks of the Old Bandera", which was covered by Jerry Jeff Walker many years ago. Crowell also does the song justice. I recommend this recording highly to any true music fan and especially if you have previously enjoyed Rodney Crowell's work.

Rodney Crowell is another example of an artist who, after years of flirting with the commercial side of Country Music, only to find himself shut out of the mainstream and denied radio airplay, has come back on his own terms with an album that has finally etched him a place in Country Music that is meaningful and lasting. Like George Jones, Merle Haggard, Dolly Parton, and Emmy Lou Harris, Crowell carries with him the reputation of being a part of country's artistic core. Unlike others, Crowell's time in the mainstream was brief, cut short by Country Music's unfortunate crossover into Pop Music where substance took a back seat to spandex and fake cowboy hats.

The fact remains that Crowell stands as one of the more important artists to be found at contemporary music's core and listener's of today's Country and Pop music owe much of what they hear to artists like Crowell who has penned music for artists like Tim McGraw, Vince Gill, Emmy Lou Harris, Roseanne Cash, and Bob Seger.

After several years without an album, and a move away from the major record labels, Crowell decided to do things his way. By producing an album funded with his own money on a small label long known for its devotion to artists away from the pretense of popular music, Crowell emerges with what may be one of the best releases of the year - an autobiographical collection of songs that depict scenes from a hardscrabble childhood spent on the wrong side of the tracks. Songs that represent a deeply personal journey on what it means to live a life filled with the effects and consequences of alcohol and domestic abuse, finally getting to the point where forgiveness brings the redemption that allows life to be lived in the present.

With songs sung about a drunk and abusive father, a hustler dying of AIDs, of running "thread bare in the freezing rain", Crowell paints vivid portraits of the people that colored his early years in a way that is brutally honest and so truthful that it hurts. These are songs that describe how the past draws the lines and colors the life that ultimately results in the future.

"I Walk The Line (Revisited)" tells of the first time hearing Johnny Cash sing and how Cash's influence managed to shape a life. On "Highway 17", a song about a life wasted away by crime, the resignation and regret in Crowell's voice can almost be tasted. "Topsy Turvy" tells a story of alcohol, domestic violence, and denial from the point of view of being a little kid and just wishing you could be somewhere else.

In what perhaps sums up the entire purpose of the album, Crowell closes with the tender and hopeful "I Know Love is All I Need", a song that is as much about the love found in family as it is a song of forgiveness and a coming to terms with the past - proof that love survives all and changes everything.

This is my first Rodney Crowell CD. I think I may have been missing out.

It fits right into my musical tastes though, and I see elements of the things I appreciate about people like Lyle Lovett and Guy Clark. So we've got that (just slightly) quirky view of things that makes Crowell's lyrics interesting and surprising; a bit of grit and experience that rings true; some damn good playing and some damn good tunes.

The opening track (Telephone Road) has real drive and power and atmosphere. You know what he's trying to achieve: it's a kind of list of memories of a place but it's very visual, very strong. It's a good start, and there's not really a falling off, right to the last track. And that last track will have many wiping a tear away, I'll bet, if not now, then in the future.

This is a pin-sharp, very attractive recording. Crowell weaves some interesting sounds and rhythms around these songs; it's an entertaining listen.

Surprises are tracks like "I Wish it Would Rain" about a hustler with AIDS, and the more affecting "Wandering Boy", about, I guess, realising what matters in life. Johnny Cash's part in "I Walk the Line" made me smile at first too, but actually, it's a great combining of songs that works.

I gave it 4 (4½ really)stars because I'm not a fan of spoken songs and "Highway 17" sends me diving for the skip button. Guy Clark's " The Randall Knife" falls into the same category, but if you like that sort of thing, this could be a 5 star album for you.

Highly recommended either way.

I listened to The Houston Kid a couple of times while driving between Baton Rouge, Louisiana and Statesboro (Georgia, that is) and thought it a fine album. But tonight I put it on the big stereo and let it wash over me & said, "I gotta get online an review this masterpiece."

Then I saw (and skimmed) the 37 reviews already posted. Folks, this is truly a lovely record (sorry, my age showing--I have the first 4 Rodney Crowells literally on record). "The Rock of My Soul" is a moving tribute to/criticism of a problematic father (as are several of the other cuts). "U Don't Know How Much I Hate U" is venomous and jaunty at the same time (Sorry Roseanne!) And the duet with ex-father-in-law Johnny Cash on "I Walk the Line (Revisited) is sublime, especially with Johnny's gruff, but melodic growl (almost a drone in the mix) as the song ends.

This album surely is a testament to the vitality of independents like Sugar Hill compared to the majors. Warner Brothers and Sony/CBS don't know what they've lost. Buy this CD and welcome Rodney back. You won't be sorry.

There are very few records that hold together and read together like a damn good play. The reason is simple - record companies want hits that stand alone for commercial purposes. Rodney Crowell is past the pop stuff, beyond the hits. Instead he weaves together a Houston opera of country, rock and soul that will grow on you with every turn. You'll be hard pressed to find a more personal group of songs around and if you do they'll be trite and sappy. Like the great novel Angela Ashes, there is no pitty being sought here, it's just a postcard of the past painted by a master writer. Robert Earl Keen's Walking Distance, another great collection, also has a lot of autobiographical references and allusions to rites of passage. But Crowell's record rocks - it keeps the tension, it keeps hitting you with great music and a voice right from the heart. This might be a personal record written for Crowell himself, but if you can't find a bit of yourself in here, you're not breathing. I can't get it out of my CD player and everyday I have a new favorite. Rodney Crowell has stopped trying to write a hit and it worked. He's come home and the house is fits like a glove.

The critical praise this recording has already attracted (and will continue to attract) makes this commendation a bit superfluous, perhaps. I'll add my voice all the same-just call it a `thank you' for the enjoyment Crowell's music has given over the years. It is difficult to single out moments on this record for comment. The songs need just to be listened to, to be enjoyed, and all together (not subjected to my feeble analysis). I would only say that `The Houston Kid' has helped me put my finger on something-that music like this helps you remember (even if your memories are quite different from those of the narrative voices). Indeed, `Banks of the Old Bandera', a song about the fading, distant joys of a rural youth long left behind (a song with which I quite identify) includes the lines: `What it made you feel like is a song. / But what it feels like now is gone.' If such defining human experiences `feel like a song', and we have among us those who give us songs like these, those feelings are never quite gone.

Rodney Crowell has forged a reputation as a writer to be reckoned with through his ability to pare a moment, an emotion, a realization with startling clarity. With THE HOUSTON KID, he brings the ghosts of a rough life in the worst part of the murder capitol of Texas in the '50s into focus without flinching or sugar-coating -- and in the process, he makes peace with the past. It is a brutal world, steeped with wife beating, substance abuse, small time crime, big time losses, latent sexual bias leading to the running of a native son (only to return in the depths of HIV)and the overall sense of not knowing better leading down a dead-end road. This is the unburnished picture of the have-nots...and it stands in stark contrast to the Currier + Ives modern day idealism that colors current country music. Not to say that THE HOUSTON KID is a downer. There's the wide-eyed joy inherent to being young and experiencing life for the first time. Whether it's the innocence of simple happiness -- "Banks of the Old Bandera" -- or the chasing the moment -- the Beatles-inflected "Telephone Road" -- the moments that shine, shine unencumbered. And the glimpse of the future that will save him glimmers, then surges like someone throwing a switch on "I Walk The Line (Revisited)," a detail-perfect recollection of the first time a 5-year olf Crowell heard Johnny Cash booking out of the speakers of his grandpa's car on the way to go fishing. As potent as the experience was, equally powerful is the realization that it is indeed Johnny Cash's voice of God rolling out over a new melody on the chorus redux of his classic call to commitment and abstention. But so it is throughout THE HOUSTON KID. The HIV/homophobia bookends that could be considered the tale of twin brothers traces one young man's exodus to Hollywood and dizzying life of cheap tricks turned in the name of survival and his eventual return to the home of his homophobic brother to die of AIDS. "I Wish It Would Rain" captures the delusions and desparation of the disease, while "Wand'ring Boy" is a plea for mercy in passage and absolution for an unthinking bias. Ironically, this is a record that turns on the notion of making peace with the past, settling scores with the nagging memories that dog us as we move through out lives. After the hurling "Topsy Turvy" and the portrait of a proud man on his knees that is "The Rock of My Soul," Crowell offers absolution to the parents whose anger and dysfunction propelled him into seeking answers in song. And with "I Know Love Is All I Need," he emerges from the past unscathed, wiser for the journey and more balanced for the knowledge gained. Evoking Springsteen's NEBRASKA, a Lone Star Lou Reed street symphony of white trash anger and acting out, an EXILE ON MAIN STREET of the poor white trash and the loss of Tom Petty's "Something Big" or SOUTHERN ACCENTS, this is the truth as lived by a poet who had yet to find his calling. Looking back, not in anger or pity, THE HOUSTON KID is a deeply personal tale offers a universal solace to anyone who's lived in the gap between the Norman Rockwell fairy tale of domesticity and the exploitatively distorted view of "Jenny Jones" and "Jerry Springer."