Thu, 10 Aug 2000 10:27:16 -0500



>From today's NY Times:
Rooted on the Edge of the Heartland
By ANN POWERS

Rock 'n' roll demands some degree of self-exile. The music's idiosyncratic
champions do not fit easily into
families, whether biological or ideological. Yet many still want to claim a
legacy to root their visions, and especially as they grow older, many seek
images in red, white and blue.
There's a whole subculture, Americana, devoted to the outcasts' reclamation of
country and blues music. Steve Earle, the Ralph Nader of country music, is its
patriarch. Artists like the Jayhawks and Whiskeytown's Ryan Adams, both of whom
have new releases, have found artistic success by stressing craft and tradition
over trendiness. Sometimes the strum and twang seem studied, but Americana
artists offer a respite from the mainstream's high-concept hard sell.
Even this homesteader's camp, however, has its outsiders. Four of the best
Americana-flavored albums of the summer are by artists who aren't the darlings
of the post-punk bootstrap set. They've all long mined the tension between rock
iconoclasm and the urge to connect to a legacy. These voices from the edge of
the heartland enhance the traditions they honor in music that invites listeners
to contemplate their own relationship to rootlessness.
Lonesome Cowboy
Chip and Tony Kinman have taken a twisted path to end up in a niche that always
suited them. These brothers first gained notice in the California punk band the
Dils, then practically founded the Americana style in the raucous Rank and File.
A detour into proto-electronica, as Blackbird, didn't logically lead to Cowboy
Nation, but the duo must have missed those 10-gallon hats, because they're
wearing them now. Cowboy Nation is a trio (Jamie Spidle plays drums) enacting a
costume drama of western music. The band's originals detail barroom gunfights
and storm-chasing on the prairie, and the covers are chestnuts: "ack in the
Saddle," "Shenandoah." Yet for all its careful re-enactment, Cowboy Nation is
direct and unpretentious. Chip Kinman's rumble of a voice embodies lonesomeness,
and the trio's taciturn energy lends color to the legends it relates.
Making Blues New
Chris Whitley is an expert at finding something new in the exile's stance. A
Texas bluesman who incorporates East Village noise-rock into his own songs, Mr.
Whitley gives new faces to the demons of blues clich