Albums by this artist

89/93: An Anthology (2002)

No Depression (1990)

Features

Uncle Tupelo: The death of a band; the birth of a genre.
Published April 3, 2003

Uncle Tupelo

The death of a band; the birth of a genre.


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By now I'm sure everyone is familiar with Uncle Tupelo, the band that predated the mighty Wilco and the strangely obsolete Son Volt. I'm sure we all know the stories about Jeff Tweedy's first band -- you know, the one responsible for starting the so-called "alt.country" movement. The band that mixed punk rock's anarchy with country music's heritage.

Yeah, Uncle Tupelo certainly got a lot done in their relatively short five-year existence. The band's four flawed but inspirational albums in the early 1990s nurtured a cult status that reverberates to this day. The emerging popularity of Tweedy's Wilco has only strengthened the spotlight on the trio from Belleville, Illinois, as suddenly everyone wants their piece of the man who couldn't sing a lick or write a decent song in 1990.

Back in 1994, when Uncle Tupelo split, nearly everyone predicted the popularity and critical praise would follow UT's other songwriter, the distant Jay Farrar. After all, it was his guttural vocals and breathtaking guitar playing that fueled the band. This prediction was furthered after Farrar's Son Volt released its debut masterpiece, Trace, in 1995. The album's tone, production and songwriting blew away Wilco's spotty A.M., a solid but unspectacular album that seemed to prove that Tweedy was Art Garfunkel to Farrar's Paul Simon.

But, as we all know, something happened after that. Tweedy got serious about songwriting, about pushing the envelope and doing things, well, differently. The results have been spectacular, beginning in 1996 with Being There and culminating in last year's over-hyped but still amazing Yankee Hotel Foxtrot.

And for Farrar, well, we know what's happened there as well. A decent sophomore album in 1997's Straightaways was quickly followed up by the strange Wide Swing Tremelo. And after one solo album in 2001, Farrar appears to have drifted off the map.

But in Uncle Tupelo, things were different. The band's first three albums seemed to present a musical force as fresh and serious as the rise of punk rock. Unfortunately, CD production, even on major labels, was nothing like it is now, and the archives left by Uncle Tupelo on Rockville Records are so poorly produced that it's almost embarrassing.

To right that wrong, Sony Legacy has dusted off those albums, re-mastered them and added a few special tracks to each one, resulting in a restoration process worthy of Michelangelo. Well, it may not be that good, but it is about damn time these records got the tune-up they so richly deserved.



No Depression 1990/2003

This is the one that started it all. Created a genre of music, the title track did. And while that song and "Graveyard Shift" may receive the most plaudits, the new production sheds light on some of the forgotten songs from this gem. Tracks like "Before I Break" rock louder and harder, while reflective tunes like "Whiskey Bottle" and "Life Worth Livin'" are given new vitality.

On this album, the boys stick to the basics, singing about blue-collar problems like working too much ("Factory Belt"), drinking too much ("Before I Break") and not drinking enough ("Life Worth Livin'").

Life isn't hopeless, its just damn crummy and easier to deal with through the bottle. Just ask Farrar in "Life Worth Livin'."

"We're all looking for / a life worth livin' / that's why we drink / ourselves to sleep / yeah, we're all looking for / a life worth livin' / that's why we pray / for our souls to keep."

For the bonus tracks, the only real winner is a classic version of the Flying Burrito Brothers staple "Sin City." For a band oft compared to Gram Parsons, one can be grateful that neither Tweedy nor Farrar -- no matter how much he has struggled to regain his songwriting strength lately -- never bought into the life of excess that took Parsons away too soon.



Still Feel Gone 1991/2003

Still Feel Gone certainly has the feel of a sophomore album and is largely considered the "forgotten" UT record. At the time of its release, there really was no real buzz yet around the band. This can largely be attributed to the surprising arrival of grunge rock, and the fact that the band's sound had yet to really permeate outside the Midwest.

Still, the album is notable, mainly because it contains Tweedy's best UT song: the opener "Gun." For a man who eight or nine years later was going to be considered one of the most innovative songwriters of his generation, Tweedy did not exactly get off to the best start. His tunes on No Depression were mostly uninspired efforts to sound like Jay Farrar. But on "Gun," he hit one out of the park.

"So don't tell me / which way I gotta run / or what good / I could do anyone / 'Cause my heart / it was a gun / But its unloaded now / so don't bother me now," Tweedy spewed.

And Farrar had his moments as well. "Looking For A Way Out," "Punch Drunk" and "True To Life" are solid efforts, but for whatever reason, don't seem to match the intensity of his earlier work.

However, on "Still Be Around," Farrar pens a near-masterpiece. A simple acoustic number, Farrar describes his growing uneasiness with alcohol with such clarity and focus that he seemed to reach a new level.

"When the Bible is a bottle / and the hardwood floor is home / when morning comes twice a day / or not at all / if I break in two / will you put me back together / when this puzzle's figured out / will you still / be around."

The bonus tracks on Still Feel Gone are a bit disappointing, as nearly all of them are made obsolete by last year's Anthology release. Only demo versions of "Watch Me Fall" and "If That's Alright" are new, while the rest can be found on Anthology. To be fair, the versions of "I Wanna Be Your Dog" and "Looking For A Way Out" are different on Still Feel Gone, but neither tune is as impressive as its Anthology counterpart.



March 16-20, 1992 1992/2003

If there's one album that benefited the most from slick new production, it's this one. March is simply a masterpiece, through and through. The famed acoustic/folk album produced by R.E.M.'s Peter Buck, March marked the major coming-out party for the band.

Of course, it also marked the beginning of the end, as the band released one more record -- 1993's Anodyne on Reprise Records -- before Farrar abruptly called it quits. On March, you can hear Tweedy developing a stronger ear for both writing and singing, and while his tunes do not outshine Farrar's, it is quite clear he is gaining confidence.

Its nearly impossible to convey how, for lack of a better word, revolutionary this album is. No, it did not set the world ablaze or lead to a massive rise in popularity, but it just seemed too unexpected that a band as loud and fast as Uncle Tupelo would release a traditional folk record.

And it worked.

Farrar's voice sounds just as comfortable and powerful singing aged-old traditional tunes like "Coalminers" and "Lilli Schull" as it did on UT's earlier records.

And Tweedy seemed to develop a niche as well, penning solid numbers like "Wait Up" and "Fatal Wound."

However, the most powerful song on the album belongs, once again, to Farrar. His take on the old folk tune "Moonshiner" will send shivers down your spine. Tweedy has even said that "Moonshiner" is his favorite UT song, and he didn't even play on it.

Nope, it's simply Farrar and a harmonica, with a light drum beat keeping everything together. To describe the desperation in his voice would be impossible. Just listen to the damn thing.

The remastered March is the real gem, as it includes an amazing live version of "Moonshiner," as well as a handful of instrumentals and demos that are well worth the price.

RODEO ROB | An expert on all things "alt," Rob spends his days covering the energy industry and his nights covering the DC-area bars. Raise yer glass especially high to this man, for he has contributed to this site constantly since its creation four years ago.