There is always
a moment of anticipation, suspense, and joy as one tears the plastic sheath off
a new CD, opens the jewel case, pops the disc out of the restraining center
fingers, and slips the recording into the sliding tray of the player. It is an unconscious ritual recreation of
your favorite birthday present being unwrapped-- a magical moment as living
music emerges from inanimate machine.
That pristine plastic disc suddenly sings in vivid aural hues. Oh sure, perhaps the suspense and joy are a little
different in 2013, a little more muted, as the music is now merely a few mouse clicks
and a download away with the instant gratification of iTunes. But still, the experience is pure enchantment
as you and the music are conjoined.
Technology
enables sound on your laptop, tablet, or smartphone almost instantly, but the personal
connection to the artist becomes pale and distant without cover artwork,
without liner notes, or even the comforting tactile feel of the disc and jewel
case that are themselves faint echoes of the nostalgic vinyl LP experience. The CD is different, though.
The CD can be
conceived as an organic whole in which all the music lives together in the same
neighborhood. Each song in this community is invested with a specific role
creating a narrative experience as one cut leads inevitably to the next. Like a train, there may be a “hit song”
engine that drives the rest, but each car carries its own passengers and
freight in which the sum of the whole is greater than its parts. The whole idea of a cloud technology digital
library destroys the album concept and works to dissolve the unity of the
CD. Tracks are sold for 98 cents
each. Every song is an orphan. Cheap,
quick, sound bytes trump carefully wrought unity.
And yet, here in
your hands, is the promise of something very different. Deliciously retro in its unity, wonderfully
conceived as a whole, with a music that is nurtured by the sweet scent of
Midwestern soil and inextricably linked to the fascinating characters that
inhabit the heartland of America, Kanoka is an astonishing ramble through
the heart of Americana soul, a love story redolent of Walt Whitman’s lyrical
verse.
Kanoka is unity. In fact, the fictional place name is nearly a
palindrome; the album itself is a
palindrome. The title track opens with
the sound of a surging train wedded to the soulful whistle of Lloyd Maines’s
steel guitar. The final track, “Bottom of the Bottle of
Beer,” trails off like a caboose coda in the distance graced with those same
train track clacks and Maines’s steel rail wails. The circle is unbroken.
Switchback is
very unusual in that the band consists of only two performers in both live
performance and recording situations. Marty McCormack and Brian FitzGerald have
forged an identity and shared vision over a twenty-five year relationship that
has enabled them to enfold others in their music as an integrated extension of
themselves. The presence of musician’s musicians, Lloyd Maines on pedal slide
guitar and Howard Levy on harmonica, allows Switchback to draw upon the full
soundscape of American life. Drummers
Jim Hines and Nick Hirka and percussionist Keith Riker inject the pulse that is
the heartland heartbeat.
Levy’s harp is
woven into the band’s mix on four cuts, but more importantly, there are a pair
of extraordinary solo interludes that punctuate the album. The first is a jovial blues cowboy meditation
on Western life that makes a seamless transition into the first sweet notes of
Maines’s steel guitar that begins “Van Tassel.” The second interlude, a prelude
to “Rocky Mountain Express,” dances merrily along its path to a graceful
extended arpeggio that ends in a sweetly sustained final whistle tone. And then, from the distance, this is answered
in the same key with the onrushing rhythm of the “Express.” This transition is a kinder, gentler nod to
the scream as train whistle in Hitchcock’s The
39 Steps.
Maines’s pedal
steel percolates through Kanoka like
the Mississippi embracing the heartlands.
Crying into the high lonesome American night, poured into another honky
tonk round, slipping along Highway 20, the sweet sigh of a waltz as a foil to
the life’s bucking bronco in “Rope as I’m Riding,” a lyrical counterpoint to
the vocals in “Wrong You Can Write,” the onomatopoeia of water through sand, or
a sinister swirling cyclone. There is a little Lloyd Maines melodious fairy
dust sprinkled liberally throughout, imbuing the album’s diversity with unity.
Diversity and
unity. The beauty of train travel is
that you remain the same and your immediate surroundings remain the same, even
as the scenery outside the window continually shifts. Switchback travels through
the full range of American musical scenery, pausing to visit genres and
musicians that have shaped our nation’s sonic history. There is more than a hint of George Jones
country in “Pour Me.” “Rocky Mountain
Express” rides the same rails as “Orange Blossom Special.” The specter of “Ghost Riders in the Sky” is
conjured by “Wrong You Can Write.” The
tight vocal harmonies of “Water Through Sand” or “Bottom of the Bottle of Beer”
reference the country rock sound of the Byrds and Poco. There is even a hint of U2 and Bono in the
anthemic vocals of “I’ll Be Damned.” Costumes
reveal more than they conceal. Though cloaked in various styles and influences,
Switchback remains Switchback. Integrity and truth are enthroned in their
music.
Kanoka dispels the borders dividing life from
music by weaving non-musical sounds into several songs. Far more than sound effects, the iconic West
is invoked with horse whinnies, timeless generations are symbolized through
waves breaking on a beach, and the album’s journey is reflected in the rhythmic
train sounds that open and close the recording. The thoughtful mix of sounds is emblematic of
Switchback’s attention to both nuance and idea.
Kanoka surely will be characterized and
marketed as Americana, but this album transcends that commercial branding
formula. Kanoka is more than Americana—it is the sound of America itself.
Ron Pen, director
John Jacob Niles
Center for American Music
University of
Kentucky
