Summary.
The solo work of former
Dream Syndicate's vocalist Steve Wynn
has favored melancholy and introverted confessions at the intersection of
Lou Reed, Bob Dylan and Neil Young. Kerosene (1990) was too obviously
derivative, but Melting In The Dark (1996) let loose his passion for
Sixties garage-rock, which overflowed on the
propulsive, noisy and emphatic My Midnight (1999).
Wynn's quest for a balance of youthful punk-rock and adult roots-rock, of a
music capable of roaring, sweating and bleeding, culminated with
Here Come The Miracles (2001), a survey of his emotional territory,
a varied set of solemn, mournful, upbeat, tender, romantic, rough, demonic,
harsh ballads and rave-ups.
If English is your first language and you could translate my old Italian text, please contact me.
Scroll down for recent reviews in English.
|
La carriera solista di Steve Wynn inizia con l'ultimo disco dei Dream Syndicate,
Ghost Stories (Enigma, 1988), che in pratica fu il manifesto di un
cantautore malinconico e introverso.
L'album d'esordio, Kerosene (Rhino, 1990), e` un album molto personale
che documenta la transizione da giovane arrabbiato ad adulto fatalista.
Abbandonata la psichedelia, i modelli di riferimento sono Lou Reed e Bob Dylan,
gli "storyteller" piu` contorti e confessionali.
Elegie marziali e nostalgiche come Tears Won't Help, invettive amare e
sarcastiche come Something To Remember Me By, armonie campagnole come lo
scoppiettante country-boogie della title-track la fanno da padrone, fino a
cesellare un capolavoro melodico come Carolyn, forte di un ritornello beat e
di un arrangiamento con violino classicheggiante e mandolino latineggiante.
Alle atmosfere incendiarie ed ipnotiche dei Dream Syndicate si ispirano
soltanto un paio di brani (come Younger).
La qualita` delle composizioni varia dall'eccellente al banale (con qualche
punta di imbarazzante).
Dazzling Display (Rhino, 1992)
accentua la qualita` notturna della sua musica,
ma anche le sue carenze in fase compositiva. Wynn cerca disperatamente la
propria personalita` di musicista, ora nel pop corrivo di Tuesday, ora
rifacendo di nuovo il verso a Dylan in Dandy In Disguise, ora con il sound
"duro" di Drag, ma sembra annaspare in un vuoto di idee.
Nei Gutterball (Brake Out, 1993), il supergruppo formato con
Stephen McCarthy (Long Ryders),
Bob Rupe (Silos), Bryan Harvey
(House Of Freaks) e Johnny Hott (idem), Wynn
puo` con ancor meno pudori e remore un'indole che e` fondamentalmente epigonica:
Bob Dylan (Trial Separation Blues, Lester Young), Lou Reed
(il piccolo capolavoro
When You Make Up Your Mind), Neil Young (Falling From The Sky) e
Keith Richard (Top Of The Hill) sono le stelle fisse del suo firmamento.
In quel dolente ripetere versi, riff e ritornelli della sua infanzia si coglie
un dramma molto diffuso, lo stesso che attanaglia di nostalgia i pensionati.
La sua banda di veterani sciancati del "roots-rock" sembrano piu` che altro
consolarsi l'uno con l'altro.
Neppure il nuovo disco solista, Fluorescent (Brake Out, 1994), forse il
meglio suonato dei tre, o perlomeno quello che suona piu` sincero,
risollevera` le sorti di Wynn.
Le canzoni scorrono limpide e affabili, ma senza colpi di reni
(Look Both Ways e` l'ennesima brutta copia di Dylan).
Wynn si ricorda di essere stato il nume ispiratore di Galaxie 500 and Luna
(Collision Course, Wedding Bells),
ma non si ricorda come lo era diventato.
Piu` spontaneo e fantasioso, il nuovo disco dei Gutterball,
Weasel (Brake Out, 1995), rende giustizia al talento dei comprimari,
nonostante i temi autobiografici
(Transparency, Your Best Friend).
Tutto si puo` dire di Wynn meno che ripeta sempre lo stesso disco.
Melting In The Dark (Zero Hour, 1996), registrato con l'aiuto di
Thalia Zedek e Chris Brokaw dei Come,
sfoggia un brio che riporta agli anni '60.
Why, tutto scatti sincopati e riff taglienti, potrebbe stare su un
disco dei Surgery.
Il galoppo sinistro e incalzante di What We Call Love accoppia
il tono fatale di Jim Morrison e il cowpunk dei
Gun Club.
Smooth vola su un epico fuzz da garage-rock.
Shelley's Blues s'impenna invece in un ritornello svenevole da
Merseybeat.
Wynn e` molto meno credibile quanto tenta di imitare
i cantori esistenziali/atmosferici alla Stan Ridgway
(Epilogue).
Troppe canzoni, comunque, sono puro riempitivo e deprimono le buone intenzioni.
Il raga-rock dissonante di Melting In The Dark
e` purtroppo soltanto il brano di chiusura, non il baricentro.
Wynn ha semplicemente proseguito la parabola
discendente iniziata con Medicine Head. Incerto se la sua vocazione sia
il melodramma alla Springsteen, il folkrock alla Dylan, la ballata
"noir" alla Reed, Wynn continua ad andare alla deriva in un rock senza nerbo,
a flirtare con l'AOR senza avere il coraggio (o il talento) per diventare
un vero pop singer. Coscientemente o meno, ogni album di Wynn ne "decostruisce"
il passato, isolando in maniera sempre piu` completa le singole componenti.
Questo processo toglie alla "fusion" originale tutto il fascino e lascia
al suo posto detriti flaccidi e incolori.
|
|
(Clicka qua per la versione Italiana)
Sweetness And Light (Zero Hour, 1997) is another exercise in updating
retro` rock. The catchy Silver Lining is balanced by the
noir ballad This Deadly Game, and the synth-tinged Ghosts is
redeemed by the sprightly Blood From A Stone.
In keeping with his committment to explore ever newer avenues,
My Midnight and Here Come The Miracles
are almost each the opposite of the other.
My Midnight (Zero Hour, 1999)
features Chris Brokaw again,
but also adds Psychedelic Furs'
Joe McGinty to the ranks,
who is probably responsible for the least "Wynn-ian" sounds on the album.
The album opens with a powerful Who-style rocker
(Nothing But The Shell), and doubles it with a boogie-propelled shuffle
(My Favorite Game, that borrows the riff from Procol Harum's
Simple Sister).
However, Wynn has shifted target. He is no longer a "Lou Reed meets Neil Young"
poet of the dark alleys. He aims at being a pop bard fronting a full-fledged
orchestra. The songs are progressively more arranged, unusually emphatic,
the production obliterating the guitar and often the voice itself.
Propulsive rhythms wed symphonic passages.
His songs used to "bleed": now they spring like water fountains at Versailles.
Suddenly, we hear echoes of
Stan Ridgway's "in-your-face"
country-pop in In Your Prime),
of Todd Rundgren's pop-soul (Out Of This World),
of French chansonniers (We've Been Hanging Out, replete with sensual
female whisper and romantic synthesizer).
Cats and Dogs is a melodramatic hodgepodge of sweet soul melody,
church-hymn piano, understated organ, Bacharach-style horns and funky guitar.
Wynn is simply unrecognizable:
the lullaby Lay Of The Land is delivered with Kevin Ayers' lunatic calm
while the piano intones a classical fugue;
and the solemn, mournful piano-based elegy
Mandy Breakdown soars in a cacophonous, violin-driven coda.
Over a laid-back bossanova tempo, My Midnight embraces
an easy-listening theme played by electronic keyboards,
repetitive string patterns a` la Michael Nyman,
staccato piano a` la Jim Steinman,
and guitar twang a` la Duan Eddy and
even a tex-mex trumpet.
Even the Dylan-ian imitations are skewed: The Mask Of Shame features an
accordion-driven waltz and a majestic bacchanal.
So, by the end of the album, the seven-minute pounding Velvet Underground-ian
voodoobilly and feedback maelstrom of 500 Girl Mornings sounds like
Zorro jumping from the roof on his horse and riding away in the dark.
This is Wynn's noisiest and riskiest album since he started his solo career,
and perhaps since the first Dream Syndicate album.
On the contrary, the double-CD monolith
Here Come The Miracles (Blue Rose, 2001)
is an imposing tribute to his garage-rock roots.
Pinned between the rock pillars of Neil Young and Lou Reed, the core of the
album rocks, sweats and bleeds.
The defiant melody of
Southern California Line winds up a burning guitar riff.
The furious, distorted rave-up of Smash Myself To Bits delivers the motto
"I take my hits, forget my vows and find new ways to smash myself to bits".
Crawling Misanthropic Blues is a volcanic eruption of southern boogie.
Shades Of Blue worships the triad of Bob Dylan, Byrds and Syd Barrett.
Strange New World is almost a tribute to the Stooges.
Sunset To The Sea is tense and sinister, with war drums and tragic guitar.
The gospel hymn There Will Come A Day closes the album in
Bob Dylan's most prophetic tone.
This is not to say that Wynn indulges in harsh sounds. On the contrary:
Here Come The Miracles is shamelessly catchy, Sustain is
even too poppy and upbeat, Butterscotch is a late-night country waltz,
and the delicate Morningside Heights sounds like a romantic ditty from
the 1960s.
Wynn has mastered the art of dynamics and the art of arrangement, that's
all. And sometimes the results are truly odd:
Let's Leave It Like That sounds like a meeting between Tom Waits and
Harry Mancini, and Topanga Canyon Freaks sounds like Inxs mistakenly
added to an Iron Butterfly jam.
The vibrant "punk" energy that still boils inside Wynn's mind is balanced, like
in Dream Syndicate's best days, by hallucinations:
acid trips like Death Valley Rain and Charity
merely complement a reality that is violent and dirty.
This double album resembles the Stones'
Exile on Main Street in that it focuses on what the artist does best
and revisits it with a loose and casual attitude.
Not by accident,
Wynn's guitar has never been so demonic, replete with the most unnerving
feedbacks this side of Neil Young.
And Chris Cacavas' organ follows suit.
The Emusic Singles Collection (Blue Rose, 2002) collects the singles
that Wynn released on the Internet in 2000.
Pick Of The Litter (Glitterhouse, 2002) collects unreleased tracks
recorded in 1997-98.
Static Transmission (Blue Rose, 2003) sends an ambigous message.
On the one hand, Wynn poses as the most competent heir to the Rolling Stones
(Hollywood,
Fond Farewell, and especially Amphetamine, one of his classics),
but, on the other hand, he is
also the only one who can significantly alter their canon without betraying
their spirit, as he does in the Byrds-ian melody of What Comes After,
in the Beatles-ian Candy Machine,
and in the Beach Boys-ian singalong of California Style.
Less successful when he strays too far into the languid tones of pop muzak
(the chamber ballad Maybe Tomorrow, the
atmospheric The Ambassador Of Soul), Wynn is nonetheless a true hero,
the folk hero who can bridge not two but all generations of rockers.
What I Did After My Band Broke Up (Works, 2005) is a retrospective of his
solo albums.
Cast Iron Soul (Blue Rose, 2007), credited to
Danny & Dusty, was another collaboration with
Green On Red's organist Danny Stuart,
following The Lost Weekend (1985) of 22 years earlier.
Crossing Dragon Bridge (Blue Rose, 2008) abandoned the hard-rocking
stance of the turn of the century for a melancholy and subdued mood,
excessively underscored by the
orchestra in Manhattan Fault Line.
Inevitably, he began to sound like
Tom Petty and
Bob Dylan, and
Northern Aggression (2010) could have been recorded by either of them
during a desert session, with rockers like Resolution and
On the Mend.
|
|
