Reason and Rhyme: Bluegrass Songs by Robert Hunter & Jim Lauderdale  (SUGAR HILL)

Reason and Rhyme: Bluegrass Songs by Robert Hunter & Jim Lauderdaleis the second and latest collaboration from Grateful Dead lyricist Robert Hunter and “Mr. Americana,” Jim Lauderdale.  On this record the duo proves to be a match made in heaven, with the former’s alluring verse providing a nice counter to the latter’s irresistible melodies.  After a casual listen it might sound as if they’re trying to take bluegrass to a place Further than anyone’s tried to take it in a good long while, but shrug off any perceptual expectancies about what Hunter brings to the table and it becomes apparent that Reason & Rhyme is really a traditional bluegrass album in disguise.  That is to say, as idiosyncratic as the songs are, one gets the feeling that Mr. Monroe would have approved. 

Of course there are darker moments on this record than one generally finds in contemporary bluegrass, but given Hunter’s shrewd pen and Lauderdale’s sagacious delivery, the songs never abandon their emotional core in favor of shock value.  Nowhere is this more evident than in “Not Let You Go,” a “haunted history lesson” about an Acadian family with deep secrets.  As the narrator explains some hard truths to the poor girl who married into the family and got more than she bargained for, his threatening, noxious obsessiveness never feels gratuitous or dishonest.  Every line pulls its own weight and it’s chilling in a visceral way.  “The husband of the 1st born daughter / Each generation is marked for slaughter,” Lauderdale sings sounding every bit as emotionally dissonant as Dock Boggs did when he invited Pretty Polly on that fateful walk.  So much so in fact, one gets the feeling that a new-dug grave with a spade lying by awaits the girl after the song’s end.  

In contrast, “Fields of the Lord,” an up-tempo barnburner that’s all hope and the promise of glory, sounds like the best Jimmy Martin song that Jimmy Martin never recorded while “Tiger & The Monkey,” marks the record’s surreal highpoint.  This tune at once recalls Hunter’s work with the Grateful Dead and the whimsical humor of Little Jimmy Dickens’ “May the Bird of Paradise Fly Up Your Nose” as it puts a point on the absurdity of war.  “Tiger and the Monkey went to war / The Monkey rode in on a Labrador / The Tiger came on roller skates, did some fancy figure eights / Juggling a dozen plates or more,” Hunter writes before closing each verse with the cryptically nonsensical refrain, “You’re sweet as a buttercup with the gold side up / Don’t ever think of leaving ‘til you go.” 

But the place where Hunter and Lauderdale really shine is the one-two punch of “Jack’s Dempsey’s Crown” and “Don’t Give a Hang.”  In these songs Lauderdale’s pitch-perfect delivery connects with Hunter’s painfully astute character observations to great effect.  “Jack Dempsey’s Crown,” finds the protagonist struggling for relevance in a changing world that isn’t impressed by his past glory - beating Jack Dempsey.  Show me a modicum of respect / You know I wasn’t always such a wreck / Ever since I won Jack Dempsey’s crown / There doesn’t seem no place to go but down,” the narrator explains to anyone willing to listen.  It’s the personal bathos of a man whose first love was “the art of self-defense” yet who now finds himself defenseless against the present.  The despair is palpable when he proclaims that he didn’t waste his time “like some fool clown,” because it’s clear that behind the bluster, he’s trying to convince himself of it more than the young guys who spar at the gym he’s been reduced to sweeping up.  

The next track, “Don’t Give a Hang,” feels like it could be a continuation of “Jack Dempsey’s Crown” except now the lamentation of irrelevance gives way to insouciance.  And although the narrator is still disenfranchised, he seems less desperate than he did in the previous song.  Sure, he still prefers the blues, but he’s accepted that he’s no good and found peace by way of indifference in freeing himself form seeking the validation of others.  At times it even feels as if the poor guy’s developed a sense of humor about his situation.  This is due in no small part to the way in which Lauderdale manages to convey sadness, humor, and exasperation all in the same breath.  Frankly, it sounds as though the protagonist is talking to his shrink, whom he might even be sweet on.  “You think I’m proud to be this way / I ain’t proud, I’m just dismayed / Hang by myself / Don’t get around / Everyone I know just gets me down / Except for you / This much is clear / Except for you / I’m outta here / Except for you / I’d break and run / Except for you...”  Let’s face it; lines like this are best spoken on the therapist’s couch, lest one is looking to be carried off in a straightjacket.  Or maybe he’s simply found someone he can open up to?  Who knows.  Either way, it’s a fun song because it echoes what any sane person feels from time to time but dare not speak for fear of sounding crazy. 

As mentioned earlier, Reason and Rhyme is really a covertly traditional bluegrass record, and it’s worth noting that in spite of its roots, the album is a highly original work that stands on it’s own and holds up well to multiple listenings.  It is not derivative and in truth, it rambles down its own road with aplomb.  And that’s saying a lot in a genre that often places such stringent demands on its practitioners that it becomes difficult to discern one act from another.  Yes indeed, Mr. Monroe would have been proud.                                                         Robert Kimmel    ( This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. )

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