A young hotshot songwriter shows up in Nashville, signs a publishing
contract, makes a record or two, and promptly gets dropped by his label. He
spends time living in South Nashville slums, a needle stuck in his arm most
of his waking hours. Somehow, he cleans up and starts making powerful
records that Nashville tries to ignore but can't. Ultimately, he becomes a
mentor to an entire generation of songwriters who don't see a dang thing
wrong with mixing gospel with country, rock with bluegrass, or acting like
music is powerful art.
Steve Earle's history is well-documented, but it bears repeating every once
in a while to remind us that he's the real deal in more ways than one. Few
artists have been able to rein in their demons once they've been given
absolute freedom; fewer still have the ability to channel that experience
into lifelike portraits of Civil War soldiers, death row guards, middle-aged
men, reprobates, saints, and sinners with so much conviction that you feel
like you're sitting right beside them.
Sidetracks is Earle's collection of what he calls "stray songs",
songs that never made it to albums, or which can only be found on obscure
compilations, soundtracks, or import editions of his albums. This isn't some
combing of the archive's darkest corners to make a few more bucks off of a
legacy. Earle's arguably as vital today as he was when he hit Nashville all
full of spit and vinegar, and Sidetracks works as one of his most
satisfying releases to date. He's hardly scraping the bottom of the
barrel -- these are good songs.
The track that seems to have everyone talking is Earle's stab at Nirvana's
"Breed". The opening chords shred through your speakers, then go back to
kick them around a little bit more. When you're done marvelling at Earle's
faithful take (it's easy to forget his rocker side sometimes), you find
yourself remarking that Nirvana was one hell of a band -- never a bad thing.
Of the major risks that Earle takes on Sidetracks, "Breed" is
definitely the most successful. The other, his reggae-laden version of
"Johnny Too Bad", isn't too much of a stretch -- he's certainly flirted with
reggae before -- but Earle defers so completely to guests RNT and C-Fax that
it loses the Steve Earle feel.
"Breed" and "Johnny Too Bad", though, don't mark the end of the covers. One
of the hidden pleasures of Sidetracks is that seven of the disc's
13 songs weren't written by Earle. He's joined by the Bluegrass Dukes
for both a soulful, twangy take on Little Feat's "Willin'" and a spirited
live run-through of the Flying Burrito Brothers' "My Uncle". He reprises one
cut ("Creepy Jackalope Eye") from his sessions with the Supersuckers, and
Sheryl Crow joins him for a go at the Chambers Brothers' "Time Has Come
Today" (Crow's vocals are excellent, and Earle's use of Abbie Hoffman
soundbites is inspired). As for Bob Dylan's "My Back Pages", Earle pretty
much admits in the liner notes that he's singing out of his range, but the
line "I was so much older then / I'm younger than that now" takes on a new
shade of meaning when he sings it.
Of Earle's original compositions, two are instrumentals: the Celtic flavored
"Dominick St." and the bluegrass-steeped "Sara's Angel" (both left off of
his Transcendental Blues album). "Some Dreams" (from the soundtrack
to The Rookie), "Open Your Window" (from Pay it Forward), and
"Me and the Eagle" (The Horse Whisperer) are all classic Earle
meditations on taking a chance. They're all fine songs, but the real
treasure is an alternate version of Dead Man Walking's "Ellis Unit
One". Featuring the Fairfield Four, this version offers a resonant
spirituality that drapes itself comfortably over the song's stark, harrowing
frame.
Naturally, Sidetracks lacks the thematic consistency of a "proper"
Earle album like Train a Comin', Transcendental Blues, or I
Feel Alright, but it still holds up extremely well. The material works
together, and Earle's choice of covers is mostly in keeping with his
increasingly political elder-statesman stance. There's not a clunker to be
found anywhere on Sidetracks ("Johnny Too Bad" might not feel like
Steve Earle, but it's still a good song), and it's refreshing to hear
Earle's takes on so many other writers' songs. For all he's been through, it
seems that Steve Earle never lost contact with his muse, and we're reaping
the benefits.
— 18 June 2002
