CD REVIEW The Little Willies
By The Little Willies
The Little Willies: And we can't say how much we've been sippin', but we swear to God, we saw Lou Reed cow tippin' ...
Norah Jones: You really think that was Lou Reed?
Richard Julian: I'm sure it was; he was wearing black Levis.
NJ: I thought he was a vegetarian. RJ: He was just tippin' him over; he wasn't eatin' him.
NJ: Huh.
Norah Jones slurs when she's having fun or (as above) poking fun at former The Velvet
Underground frontman (remember "I'm Waiting for the Man" and "Sweet Jane"?) and rebel rocker Lou Reed in a song titled after him. Fans who fell in love with Jones' amazingly emotive voice in low, slow, intimate jazzy pieces back in her 2002 breakthrough solo release Come Away With Me, the album that won her four personal Grammy's and more attention than she knew what to do with, are in for a hillbilly ride on The Little Willies, the self-titled debut of a band with such infectious joie de vivre, you won't help hooting in approval at their faux drunken antics.
The Little Willies divvies up the vocal honors between the famous Jones and singer/songwriter Richard Julian, who has an equally engaging and sometimes heartbreaking baritone, in a collection of old-school country rock and blues covers, with a smattering of originals thrown in for good measure. The two collaborate with songwriter and producer (and incidentally Jones' longtime boyfriend) Lee Alexander on bass, Jim Campilongo on electric guitar, and Dan Rieser on drums, in a gregarious team-up that'll make any listener, even one who shuns cowboy boots, wish he could kick about on the hardwood floors of some Texan bar and raise hell.
The Little Willies isn't all about Jones, who sings backup to Julian just as much as he does for
her, but she sure is hard to miss. Listening to the album will make folks who had bypassed Jones' less popular sophomore release Feels Like Home, which marked her supposed return to country roots (although technically, "Cold Cold Heart" from Jones' first album is actually a country standard, and she's sung with a country lilt before, on her own or with a band like in The Peter Malick Group albums), turn around and realize that they missed out on a good thing, dang it.
Jones lends effortless poignancy without selling the drama in that familiar standard, "Love Me," made famous by Elvis Presley, but now transformed into a two-step number with some light-fingered piano and guitar work. It's not country if there aren't any broken hearts, and "It's Not You It's Me," written by Julian, is sung subtly by Jones, much in the tradition of female country artists singing about finding the strength to move on from a relationship that took a wrong turn. "Roll On," written by Alexander, for all its simplicity, showcases the purity of her voice in soothing cadence and is music to drive by on a sunny, Sunday afternoon. "I Gotta Get Drunk," a Willie Nelson cover, takes the listener out of the road and into the bar, with an almost out of character falsetto at the end of the bouncy number. "Night Life," also by Nelson, is Jones at her bluesy best, inviting one to mellow down with a nightcap in hand, the words "My life ain't no good life, but it's my life" and the strains of a guitar pulling at the heart.
Julian, for his part, is no lightweight when emoting a blend of humor and hard luck pathos in the standards "I'll Never Get Out Of This World Alive," "Streets of Baltimore," and "Tennessee Stud," but most enjoyably in the cover of Kris Kristofferson's ironic "Best Of All Possible Worlds." He also pulls off a rendition of Townes Van Zandt's "No Place to Fall," which is achingly sad, a lesser talent would have made it too annoying to be borne.
With such flexible singers and gifted musicians in concert, the hopping classic "Roly Poly" rolls easily to a fast finish, and the duet "Easy As The Rain," a Julian original, is a sad, slow tune that manages to be romantic and pensive, without being overpowering. The album keeps the listener on his toes, varying from slow and easy, to fast and fevered, as Jones and Julian swing from a hush to a holler, switching from sweet intimacy to belted, blatant ear-bending. The irreverent finish, "Lou Reed," is fitting to the skilled quintet, who are obviously serious about their work, but prefer not to take themselves, or anything else for that matter, too seriously.
Hotdog, it's all good, in the bar-hopping, drink-dunking, jail-breaking, cow-tipping "land of beef and pork." God bless The Little Willies and all who take a shine to them.
Originally published on 17 March 2006 in BusinessWorld Weekender.