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Stink Bait
Rube Waddell
Vaccination 38048-8019-2
Date Reviewed: February 2000
Rube Wadell takes its name from a
heroic goof of a pitcher. Their Wobbly rhythmns have all the
kids jumpin'!
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Where is Lester Bangs when you need him, besides died a long Nyquil
death? Lord give me the strength to describe the Rubes.
You know I got a letter the other morning from
my friend in the Sybaritic Kingdom by the bay. It was Jim Haas, who has discovered the San
Francisco group Rube Waddell
; he sent me their CD, known
as Stink Bait, and a note. And this my friends is Moon Traveller
material. The music is pretty unique, and not easy to describe.
This is the note that he sent to me:
Revelation,
Near as I can see it …back again where it's always been
Poking through the hay bales of Wisconsin,
Dropping from the holes in the pockets
of Boston student-types,
slipping through the hands of
San Francisco sybarites,
served up by bottleneck chain
gang trains sung out in ever idiom I ever loved
Hey Rube!
Rube Wadell is three guys playing out of and
around San Francisco. Jim sent the record to me because I turned him
on to the Pogues about 15 years ago and he wanted to get even,
perhaps. This because we have been partners in a quest for musical
deliverance going on a virtual eon. Which has led to Wadell.
| Rube Waddell and Stink Bait is blues with
a feeling and properly warped. Certainly we need to point to
some groups that are analogues somewhat to what the Rubes do
if we are to be faithful, reader, to you. And we can only say
there are elements in the Rubes that convey intimations of the
Pogues, the Fugs, R. Crumb and his Cheap Suite Serenaders, the
Holy Modal Rounders, Son House and Roy Smeck. |
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How could you possibly consider buying Stink Bait without getting
an idiomatic rundown? So here we go. Idioms made use of: Blues,
string band, Indian, Hawaiian, chain gang, medicine show, Wobbly,
and hobo. Whew. But the Mamas and the Papas, or Hollies, conceivably,
could do that.
What is compelling is that these idioms are mostly unveiled with
a tonal sense at home in the present era (i.e., Led Zeppelin, and
Rage Against the Machine fans) should, if honest, find something
here. Again Whew.
The
disc starts out a little slow; its careening in all directions by
the time it hits the third song, Git Out. Which is a fortunate 32
sec. Then comes the 1:55 Roy Smeck, and we're happening! Smeck is a
slide god of vaudevillian guitar players who rode Tin Pan Alley's
early 20th century interest in Hawaiian into a totally other realm.
NEXT
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