The Oklahoma native, Leon Russell, now 65 years old, could easily sit back and observe today’s musical scene without having to throw himself into the fray (if that is the way to describe the release of his 33rd solo record, Angel in Disguise, on Leon Russell Records). But the fray ain’t what it used to be: music has by no means passed him by—his kind of swamp-romp-country-blues-gospel is timeless, and he works that particular musical vein as well as any. It’s just that it seems out of step, somehow. Like perhaps he should stick mostly to the kind of soft-spoken, waning tempo work best displayed in 1972’s (!) Carney, where he scored one of his biggest commercial hits with “Tight Rope,” that coy, slightly syncopated soundtrack to pre-Nixonion foolish, and foolishly absurd, cynicism that didn’t traffic in the “baby I love you, baby” refrain of every second song made by every second band in that preposterous time.
But then again, that kind of idiosyncrasy seems remote from him now. On Angel in Disguise Russell returns to the piano—he was trained as a classical pianist—jump boogie of his earlier work. The delicacy and whimsy and utter selflessness of a song like “Tight Rope” are not likely in his reach these days. On Angel he retreats to the sound that embarked him on his extraordinary career, and that’s ok. It’s what’s in his blood, and at this point in his career, why step outside the box?
Most revealingly, I think, he has chosen to define himself in his three Volumes of Hank Williams covers. He found in that work an essential country-ness to his soul that clearly worked, because he took Williams heartbreak—with its subtle leavening of whimsy—and turned it into a righteous imitation of the man who wrote “Lovesick Blues,’ and forever altered how we feel about the nexus of white country music with the blues of the American south. (Russell is fundamentally a country singer.) Everybody tries to cover Williams; almost everyone fails in one or two essential ways. By and large, Russell did not. He found in Williams the germ of some of Hank’s deep heartbreak, and rather than try to emulate it (and how can you, really, unless you’ve suffered it)? In doing so, he approximated the desolation of the lonely and irredeemable troubadour. Russell kept just enough artistic distance from Williams so that he would not fall into a trap from which there is no graceful emergence. And as a result, he exalts and even deepens a man (Williams) who doesn’t need it, but who benefits in the translation nonetheless.
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Review by
Stephen Foster
cdreviews.com
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Which brings us (very circuitously) to Angel in Disguise. It is sort of a dual tribute record: Russell to his wife, Mimi (“Sweet Mimi,” which is prosaic to the point of simplistic); and it’s a tribute, through liner notes from his children, to the great man their father is (and about which his greatness in that regard I have no doubt). Well and good, but what about the music—start to finish, on the disc. Most of its lyrics give the impression of having been improvised at the mike, so that the banality of many of today’s rock lyrics seems preposterously somewhat wise and carefully calibrated compared to Russell’s words here. “Sweet Mimi:” (“You’re smiling face just looked my way/ and I just feel in love.”) Or: “There is only one thing I know for sure/you are the one for me.” It’s the thought that counts, right?
The title track is a standout, although it could have been a bit longer. It’s a track worth owing. “Loving on My Mind” finds Russell somewhat energized, and his background singers infuse the song with a gospel energy that works just fine. “Come for You” seem tinny, superficial; but again his background singers pull something from very little---and oddly, the music sounds like it was transplanted from the mid 80’s, with all the hollowness that that implies. “All Through the Night,” a down-tempo piece works quite well; its hopeful message, and its reliance on two people, together, to make it through the night (dark times, bad moments) is poignant and hopeful. Russell slows down and his mouth-full-of-marbles slurs give the song the urgency of hope.
“Honkey Tonk Eyes” is faceless, feeling-less boogie. The last song, “Desire Inside Your Eyes,” seems modestly overproduced. It has moments, though, when you hear the kind of yearning in Russell’s voice that was put to astonishing effect in the Hank Williams work.
The man who unwittingly usurped Mad Dogs and Englishman from Joe Cocker, and revved up a wild and wooly sound that was a precursor to much of the so-called Southern boogie bands (the Allmans, etc.) and allowed them to flourish, the man who thoroughly owned George Harrison’s Concert for Bangladesh, with his medley of “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” and “Young Blood”—well, he’s left the stage. The musical world into which he drops his latest album, no matter how you look at it, makes him seem anachronistic. And there is a kind of sadness about it.
Ok: I accept it. It’ true. But every picture doesn’t tell a story, not if you are willing to look at multiple photos, from multiple eras. If you do, you’ll see Leon Russell firmly ensconced in brilliant session work and in highly influential solo output. But no so much with Angel in Disguise.
www.leonrussellrecords.com
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