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Folks across Texas have long had a love/hate
relationship with Pat Green. The kid was winning little-bitty
songwriter showcases when he was fifteen, even then demonstrating
remarkable talent occasionally overshadowed by astonishing arrogance.
Names won’t be named here, but spend some time with Texas artists at
Tommy’s next gathering or Larry Joe’s shindig or Pickin’ In the Pines, and
you’ll get the story. Everyone had to admit, though, it was tough to
argue with the success of records like George’s Bar and
Dancehall Dreamer. Hard to dicker with talent that could come up
with tunes like “Songs About Texas” or “John Wayne and Jesus” or even the
title cut from Dancehall Dreamer. Toss in the fact that while
he recorded that quality of work the kid was also tipping his hat to
Townes – remember Pat’s version of “Snowin’ on Ratone”? Sure, he got
sideways with Charlie Robison (remember the “beer, beer, Luckenbach”
brouhaha?). And yeah, he was the poster boy for the Ballcap Nation
and their suds-doused carousing that began to eclipse some of the more
competent acts around the Lone Star state. But hell, it was hard not
to respect the guy when he teamed up with Cory Morrow for the Songs We
Wish We’d Written CD. Who’d they pay tribute to on that little
affair? Aw, nobody stellar – just Waylon, John Prine, Townes, Steve
Fromholz, my God, even the Backsliders made that cut along with Shaver,
Merle and Johnny Cash. You can’t be inspired by musicians of that
caliber and that musical variance without learning something, can you?
It seemed not.
But somewhere along the way, the leader of the Ballcap Nation apparently
grew up. Unfortunately, his handlers may have forgotten to remind him that
sometimes maturing is a good thing to include in that process.
Interested observers had, of course, wondered when this would occur.
Wave On Wave appeared to maybe be the last turn onto the mainstream
interstate. And unfortunately, Cannonball is nothing but a
windblown pedal-to-the-floor acceleration down that one-way road.
What does all this mean? To mangle Shakespeare, it means a record,
full of sound and pretty production, signifying mostly nothing. Take
the title track. Some of the most gorgeous opening riffs you’ll ever
hear, tying smoothly and swiftly into a driving rhythm track that’d get
even a stiff like Yoko Ono’s toes a-tappin’. And check out the
chorus, with some lyrics that offer both insight and power:
"Cause you save me baby from myself
Can I be saved, only time will tell
The only difference between luck and love
Hit me when I wasn’t looking at all
With love like a cannonball
You tear down the walls
With love like a cannonball."
But after that incisive description of what real
love can do to the most hardened of hearts, Pat offers this for a
denouement:
"Tonight I said what I said
I had too much to drink and it went to my head
But I’m sorry I give up the fight
So let’s lay down together and get through the night."
That sort of “bend over, baby, and I’ll love you
like mad” mentality is usually best reserved for the satire of “My Name Is
Earl” or the inanity of old hair bands like Dangerous Toys. Coming
from Pat Green, particularly on the heels of what could have been a
relevant observation on the power of love, it’s just a disappointment.
Other tracks come closer to fulfilling their promise. “Way Back Texas,”
for one. There’s almost enough of a sense of sustained longing and
nostalgia for youth and the girl that got away to pull it off, but
ultimately the production strangles the humanity and it’s just another
pretty song. Oddly enough, one that would sound perfect if recorded
by Kenny Chesney. “Love Like That” starts out in the same vein, and
anyone who’s ever been to a county fair or lived under the Friday night
lights will get a mental picture that exudes warmth. But thank God
for that mental picture, and get lost in it, because the song’s just going
to disappoint if you’re counting on it to take you back. This is Top
40 Nashville pablum wrapped in pseudo-sincerity at best.
“Dixie Lullaby” offers a welcome respite four cuts into the track list.
The production scales back, the instruments support Pat’s weathered voice,
and the life lessons Daddy taught by example years ago come to center
stage:
"My father had skin like leather
Hands like steel
From a lifetime spent in a cotton field
And though he’d come home tired and dirty almost every night
He found the strength to smile at me and hold my mama tight
While that ole’ transistor radio would play the Opry out in the hall
I’d sit and watch those two shadows glide over the wall
And later, as years have passed, children and grandchildren born and
raised, and Mama and Daddy laid to rest,
And I sang him a Dixie lullaby
We’ll meet again by and by
Oh my what a beautiful life
Just like a Dixie lullaby
Oh my what a beautiful life
Just like a Dixie lullaby."
That’s timeless. Evokes memories of the
real South and the men and women whose lives cultivated the land we pass
through. Reminds of songs from other great writers, from Don Edwards
(“Good Old Boys Like Me”) to David Allan Coe (“No Place Left to Run”) who
knew the value of a Daddy and all the joy and pain a man like that can
bring. In other words, it’s a song worth singing because it tells a
story worth hearing. It’s a soul poured out on a six-string, untainted by
the producer’s board and unrelenting in its honesty. And for all of
those wonderful reasons, it doesn’t fit on Cannonball.
But, brother, “Feels Just Like It Should” is perfect for this record:
"Let’s jump in my El Camino
Uh huh
Roll the windows down
Go see what kind of trouble we can find out on this messed up little town
We’ll put the Boss on the radio
Uh huh"
Add a gallon of insincerity and some more “uh
huhs,” and you’ve got the mainstream horseshit picture. What an
absolute waste – and a painful one, on the heels of “Dixie Lullaby.”
Now you see where that longstanding love/hate relationship with Pat Green
began. Listen to the rest of Cannonball, and you’ll see where
the hate part begins now to take deep root.
From “Missing Me,” with its sweet and earnest sentiments set to a melody
better suited for another Perfect Stranger sapfest, to “Finder’s Keepers”
(a duet with Sara Evans that just cements Green’s Music Row hard-on), this
record’s chock-full of unfulfilled or flat-out broken promises.
All the info, along with listener reviews that take a decidedly different
tack than the one you’ve just read, can be found at
www.PatGreen.com. But peruse
the site a bit, and you might find that the single most telling fact it
contains is a lack of any sound clips. Maybe the best marketing move
Pat and his people ever made. Because when it’s all said and done,
anyone who smelled the sawdust on Dancehall Dreamer or rode their own
trails with John Wayne and Jesus is apt to leave their cannonball fetish
to historical tours at old forts in Goliad and other places where what’s
Texas and what’s real don’t kowtow to commercial gloss.
To sum up Cannonball and take my leave of this mess, I’ll leave you with a
thought from Shooter Jennings on his last record, Electric Rodeo.
Could’ve saved you a lot of time if I’d left the review at this:
"Your heroes turn out to be assholes
The light that you’re chasing
In the tunnel
Is a train
The singer’s in key
The guitar’s in tune
But the song is just slipping away."
Written by Dave
Pilot, October, 2006
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