We Are Only Riders
Review By Ashlee Elfman

Of course, I’m partial, in pretty much every way a person can be partial. Cypress Grove is a very dear friend of mine. Christine Dunleavy, who transcribed all of the songs from rough demos, is my Swampland partner in crime. Every musician who worked on this project has a spot in my record collection. A fair amount of them are in my “top 10” list. Then work in the fact that I’m a fanatic for pretty much anything Jeffrey Lee has ever touched, and you have the perfect recipe for an unreliable narrator. Here goes anyway. When Cypress first told me of his idea to put together a collaborative tribute to his legendary friend I knew it would happen, I just didn’t realize how truly epic it would be. For three years I watched Cypress put the pieces of his vision together, recruiting musicians that Jeffrey knew personally, but also musicians that Jeffrey had inspired. The line up became one out of a die-hard Gun Club fan’s fantasy.

The Jeffrey demos were mere skeletons. Promising frameworks of songs that had sadly never been fully realized by their creator. Their creator happened to be one of the most soulful country/punk/blues musicians the world has ever known. In fact, there’s never been anyone like him. There has always been a scope to Jeffrey’s music, and I think that came from his appreciation for so many different things. When people try to copy him, it never works. Just like it never works when people try to copy any of the seminal musicians featured on “We Are Only Riders”. The problem being that the “copier” tends to only pick up one or two notes of reference from the artist they admire, while the artist themselves has a carpetbag full of interests that can allude some of the greatest technical musicians. Jeffrey was like this. His voice had an ache redolent of the Romantic poets, his lyrics ranged from imagined country/western worlds, drew from all of the blues music that had filled his ears, and sometimes called on the abstract, and always the human. It is this mindset that seemed to inspire this tribute album. Many of the songs are repeated, but by different musicians, giving them a rounder quality, and breathing life into them. Through the prism of sounds, ambiences, voices and emotions, the songs have been given a vitality that is both respectful and beautiful.

I can’t pick a favorite track. The album acts as one cohesive vision, and every song bleeds brilliantly into the next. ‘Ramblin’ Mind’, which is performed three singular times by Nick Cave, David Eugene Edwards and Cypress Grove, seems to be the undeniable divining rod to Jeffrey’s spirit. Biblical, powerful, and heroic, the song tells of a man whose mind can not be fettered, and the violent price he pays for that freedom. Nick Cave opens the album with a fervent, ecclesiastic rendition of ‘Ramblin’ Mind’, and you really sense that he is calling up thunder. David Eugene Edwards’ version has a sweeping country atmosphere. Jeff Zentner’s banjo holds the song together like rhythmic glue, and David’s voice illuminates the words with an unpretentious understanding. Cypress’ version has a power that only love can provide. Meditative and ghostly, it clangs and echoes like precious rubble in the wind.

‘Free to Walk’ is also a song that is visited three times throughout the album, each with male and female duets. The Raveonettes offer up the first version. The droney, distorted guitars, and the slow meshing vocals make this a really sublime track, and a little unexpected. The song with its rather uplifting lyrics becomes a bittersweet rumination. Isobel Campbell and Mark Lanegan give us a sweet western take on the song, which has a sound that seems very true to Jeffrey’s recorded country material. Nick Cave and Debbie Harry duet on the final version, making for a pretty and meaningful tribute, considering Jeffrey’s respect for both artists’ work. ‘Free to Walk’ serves as a honeyed dichotomy to the darkness of ‘Ramblin’ Mind’, though it is not bereft of sadness.

Debbie Harry gives me chills with her version of ‘Lucky Jim’. I can’t say I’ve ever enjoyed her voice more. Like Marianne Faithful, her voice seems to have aged like a fine wine. Wise and womanly, her voice soars through the jangly, dreamy instrumentals. Lydia Lunch sings ‘My Cadillac’ in a way that is both romantic and beat-up. She sounds so organic amongst the acoustic guitars and the twang. Johnny Dowd delivers a characteristically offbeat version of ‘Constant Waiting’, which should serve to open the eyes of a lot of people to the magic of Dowd’s work. Mark Lanegan and The Sadies both do more traditional country versions of ‘Constant Waiting’. Lanegan’s voice sounds as if it were made for the song. Mick Harvey, with his always graceful and alluring style, sings ‘Snow Country’, a poetic, anti-pop pop song. ‘Just Like a Mexican Love’ with David Eugene Edwards and Crippled Black Phoenix is an affecting, theatrical opus that only gets better with each listen.

And to top off the entire masterpiece, Lydia Lunch leads a misfit choir through a feral, energetic version of ‘Walking Down the Street Doing My Thing’.

I tried in vain to pare this review down. There’s still more I’d like to write, but instead I suggest you pick up the album and hear the songs for yourself. In my view, it’s one of the most touching and thoughtfully composed tribute albums ever recorded.

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Jeffrey Lee Pierce Site

 

 

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