To most who were conscious of the New Wave, or even those who listen to
lots of '80s radio now, Wall of Voodoo's "Mexican Radio" is somewhat
inescapable, even if it's still about as odd and off-kilter now as it was
twenty years ago. And while that song may have relegated Wall of Voodoo to
one-hit wonder status, those who were paying attention knew that there was
more to the band than a seemingly (though not, really) goofy hit single.
In fact, a big part of the Wall of Voodoo story was in one of their other
hit singles, a very synthy cover of Johnny Cash's "Ring of Fire". That dark,
tense, pulsing version was a minor hit, and it served as a link between Wall
of Voodoo frontman Stan Ridgway and his influences, many of which were rough
country-rockers, including the legendary Cash.
When Stan Ridgway went solo in the early '80s, his career began to
emulate those influences even further. Pushing away some of the synthesizers
of Wall of Voodoo (though not completely, by any means), Ridgway began to
create creepy, almost sci-fi soundscapes that were as indebted to the more
rough-and-tumble country as they were to dark New Wave.
Stan Ridgway's new album, Holiday in Dirt, is actually a
collection of rare material, outtakes, and some new songs, all cobbled
together to play as an actual album. And it plays fairly well as an actual
album, maintaining sonic and thematic unity despite the fact that the songs
were recorded at vastly different times. While these songs are all basically
orphans, the thread tying them all together is that each is a vignette of an
individual: for example the starry-eyed, fame-struck kid in "Beloved Movie
Star", or the paranoid loner in "Operator Help Me". The focus is especially
trained on Los Angeles and its inhabitants, as well as the vast expanse of
desert to the east of town.
And if there's a sustained emotion, it's that of paranoia or
claustrophobia, as this series of songs is anything but a relaxed and easy
listen. Ridgway still relies fairly heavily on synthesizers, and he uses
them in some of the most unsettling ways possible. On "Bing Can't Walk", one
of the album's highlights, he sets a tale of betrayal to a throbbing, dark,
bassy track that features producer Mitchell Froom on bass. In the album's
informative liner notes, Ridgway notes that this particular track was based
on some horrific outtakes of Bing Crosby falling into an orchestra pit and
breaking his legs. It's truly creepy.
But the problem that Holiday in Dirt suffers from is a lack of
variance. These songs are pretty easy to admire for their ambition, but
they're hard to love, and the album as a whole is a difficult listen because
nearly all of the thirteen tracks present a musical riff or hook but then
merely repeat that idea for around five minutes. It makes the album feel
significantly longer than the hour it runs, and robs it of variety or a
convenient entry point. That's not to say that Ridgway should've
artificially added radio singles, but, as he admits in his liner notes, he
tends to record songs longer and sometimes cuts them down later. Most of
these songs would've benefited from a little more of that editing. Plus,
because Ridgway's focus is often on storytelling, his stories tend to run
longer than his music can sustain. The end result sounds less like Johnny
Cash and more like Ric Ocasek's more indulgent solo material, without its
pop sensibility.
But to an audience like Ridgway's, which is about as cult as cult can be,
Holiday in Dirt will be a welcome package of rare and unreleased
material that will tie up some of the loose ends of Ridgway's now
20-year-old solo career. And those fans who have followed Ridgway's deeper
and darker excursions and are not likely to be scared off by Ridgway's
uncompromising nature are those for whom Holiday in Dirt is truly
intended.
— 7 May 2002
