They used to say that the Velvet Underground never sold many records but every record they sold inspired a new band. You could say something similar about J.J. Cale, who never moved much product but did provide the sonic blueprint for Dire Straits and Eric Clapton’s solo career. Cale’s influence can be felt not only in those who recorded his songs (Johnny Cash, Lynyrd Skynyrd, the Allman Brothers, Waylon Jennings, The Band, Chris Smither, Poco, Santana, Widespread Panic, Captain Beefheart and Gatemouth Brown), but also in everyone who borrowed his swamp-rock sound, a counterintuitive blend that manages to be funky and laid-back at the same time.
That sound is intact on To Tulsa And Back, Cale’s first studio album in eight years. Though he has lived in a silver trailer in the California desert for years, Cale recorded this album in his hometown of Tulsa, Oklahoma, where he once hung out with Leon Russell, Carl Radle, David Gates, and the future Tractors.
Tulsa old-timers such as Walt Richmond and Jim Karstein help put some funky midwestern humidity back into Cale’s sun-baked music. He sings in a whispery baritone so sleepy he often seems on the verge of yawning, but don’t let that fool you; his country-blues compositions are so full of shifting rhythms and slippery guitar that you can never get to the bottom of them. In an era when so much rock strains to sound more complicated than it really is, Cale’s music is the exact opposite.
The real question with Cale is: Will he ever again write songs as memorable as his early compositions “After Midnight”, “Crazy Mama”, “Cocaine”, “Call Me The Breeze” and “Magnolia”? Most of the songs on To Tulsa And Back are pretty forgettable (ranging from generic blues and Brazilian tunes to accurate but clumsy political commentary).
But a handful are strong enough to do for the North Mississippi Allstars or Leftover Salmon what “After Midnight’ and “Cocaine” once did for Clapton. “My Gal” translates the joys of sex into a wickedly syncopated groove with different, catchy riffs for guitar and synth, while “New Lover” does the same for a lament about romantic desertion. Despite its underwhelming title, “These Blues” boasts a delightful tune and Zen-like aphorisms set to a lazy swing rhythm. And “Motormouth” satirizes a nonstop talker with its breathlessly paced shuffle and patter.
