In the 1950s, Red Foley and his Ozark Jubilee put Springfield, Missouri, on the country music map; since then producer, bassist and rock ‘n’ roll raconteur Lou Whitney has served as the area’s chief musical cartographer. Over the years, the Bottle Rockets, Jonathan Richman, Blue Mountain and the Del-Lords have turned to Whitney’s studio (simply called The Studio) and come away with the full range and punch of American roots music.
These four albums — three from Springfield denizens, plus one from a Columbia, Missouri, trio — make a strong argument for Whitney’s recording aesthetic: live, frill-free, song-based, groove-conscious, and ringing with the kind of guitar tones even the most imaginative ProTooler couldn’t imagine. Every guitar twang, bass thunk and snare snap leaps forth, as if the records had been mixed on the speakers of some legendary late ’60s Cadillac, a ride with stories to tell and lots more highway to burn.
After more than twenty years on the midwest (and beyond) bar-band circuit, Columbia’s Bel Airs have nothing to prove. They are the greatest true bar band in the region, with no serious contenders in sight. That is not damning with faint praise. On Got Love, brothers Dick and David Pruitt and drummer Mike Cherry keep their sound as stripped-down and muscular as their live show, with a bit of sax and keyboard texture for good measure. The songs come from the likes of Ray Whitley, Willie Dixon, and New Orleans bluesman Earl King’s “Those Lonely, Lonely Nights”, which sways the way only classic R&B can. This isn’t a career record, but it’s more than worthy of their career.
Led by Whitney, guitarist D. Clinton Thompson and drummer Ron Gremp, the Morells first emerged in the early ’80s as the definitive Missouri party band. They played pure dance music for pure rock ‘n’ roll heads, with instrumental magic performed through obscure covers, the weirder the better. Think About It is a classic Morells party, loaded with guess-that-guitar-riff impressions, nods to Chuck Berry, the Delmore Brothers and the Mersey beat, and a standout, slow-motion version of Duane Eddy & Lee Hazlewood’s “Guitar Man”, in which spoken-word ad-lib meets a groove thick as Ozark gravy.
After a three-year hiatus, the Domino Kings sound ready to return to their throne as Springfield’s hardest honky-tonk band — emphasis on hard. Along with original founders Stevie Newman on guitar and vocals (and songwriting on all but two tracks) and Les Gallier on drums and vocals, the band introduces two new members, Richie Rebuth on guitar and David Sowers on bass. Their take on Newman’s lying, crying, drinking and cheating songs combines Bakersfield jangle with CCR-esque country rock. The Dominos’ sound isn’t about paying homage to influences; it’s about finding themselves in the rhythms and melodies that unfold as naturally as the stories they tell.
The sleeper record of the four is Brian Capps’ concise (ten songs, 34 minutes) solo debut. After an acrimonious split from the Domino Kings, Capps (who has since mended his friendship with Newman, and contributes upright bass to the Kings’ album) turned to Whitney and the Morrells as a backing band. Opening with a menacing but still choogling groove, Capps starts out at the bottom of a personal hell, gets out on the strength of the best guitar work of Thompson’s storied career, and leaves his man-in-black vocal impressions far behind him. He turns “Dark As A Dungeon” into a stutter-shuffle, then echoes gospel on Rodney Crowell’s “Standing On A Rock” and his own “God Knows Why”, which closes this damned-by-Saturday-night cycle with a convincing glimpse of a restorative Sunday morning.
