Langhorne Slim & The War Eagles
Langhorne Slim & The War Eagles
Kemado Records
By Jose Fritz
Tough day at the office, And worse night at home
Don’t want to talk about it, just don’t want to be left alone
There’s no joy in living, when you’re getting all and getting none
It’s a new beginning; you thought you lost, no honey you’re the one
Goddamn. That’s the kind of plain spoken but meaningful lyrics that makes every songwriter white-hot and jealous down to the bone marrow.
It’s been exactly one year and six months since V2 released Langhorne Slim’s Engine EP. I always hated measuring anniversaries in sub-annual units, the one week, the one month, the 33.3, but what the hell that was only an EP and today’s the 19th. In the absence of meaning I’ll take symbolism. Of the four tracks on the EP only the track “Restless” endured the 18 months to appear on the LP, which is fine and dandy as this is the work of a restless man.
When Jean Thomas wandered into the wilds of the Appalachian Mountains looking for balladeers those were the kinds of words she heard. Or as one of her interviewees once said:
“Did you ever have a cravin’ that were never satisfied? Ever have a cravin’ to gaze on the mighty deep? Where I started from, I craved to see if it could be done. To find out for my own self if this earth is sure enough round like they claim.”
That’s as great a scope of yearning as can possibly be, to see the world for what it is, to travel, to see mystery and hope and inspiration, vastness and your place in the great expanse that is the world. Many people have it but they quash it. Others ignore its gnawing at their guts that never stops making them miserable for the duration of their all-too-long lives. Slim ventured forth. He prostrated himself at open mic nights on the Lower East Side and Alphabet City. It was the gritty bottom, but that’s where you start if you don’t have any help. It was there that he began to forge an identity as a songwriter.
New York squatting aside, he claims Philadelphia as his home but he took his name from his real home of Langhorne, Pennsylvania. Bisecting Langhorne is Neshaminy Creek: to its east side are the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. He’s been a balladeer his whole life in a tradition he’s probably never known about.
This time he leans more toward Bobby Bare Jr., letting his voice strain and fail in the tensest of times no longer holding back in the least. His previous Dylanesque impressions are even more suppressed now as he’s come into his own. It’s also worth noticing that his bluegrass roots have faded, giving way to a more imaginative rock leaning Americana sound that will remind you of Ike Reilly, Ryan Adams and Wilco. What a fine line up to be in.
|
