There is an itch that is ever present in the mind of a songwriter. You can never completely quell the sensation…at times it’s lost in the sound of distorted and screaming guitars, sometimes muffled in the 4/4 pound of a kick drum, but as soon as the last chord fades it comes back…and never stops asking for more.
That’s what the last 30 years has been for Jay Farrar. A constant circle of creation, release, retreat, and creation. He’s more Guy Clark than Townes Van Zandt. More Neil Young than The Who. A coal fueled train tracing the tracks of the American Condition over and over until the wheels come off.
Most importantly, he still has something to say. He isn’t taking Son Volt on nostalgia tours. He isn’t playing “the hits” and cashing checks. He’s putting out relevant work at age 52. Work as relevant as he did when he was a kid in Southern, IL in the late 80’s.
Son Volt’s latest release Union opens with one of the most eloquent quatrains Farrar has ever penned…
Mountains of money men dressed up as news
And we fiddle while Rome burns.
Pissing away what others died to create
And we fiddle while Rome burns
His ability to see through the sheen of modern life and into the ills of society remains as clear as a perfect spring St. Louis skyline. The highlights on this record are too vast to each be examined in one article. Farrar speaks of the current “administration” in the executive branch, the true crisis at the border that has nothing to do with a so called invasion, and what it is to write and perform songs.
Devil May Care is a clear reflection on 3 decades of songwriting…travelling coast to coast…hitting nearly every zip code with a stage and microphone…still searching for his truer sound…still trying to paint a masterpiece. From selling the majority of his gear…not for need of cash, but because every songwriter knows there’s only so many songs in a guitar, and on occasion you need a new paintbrush, to the sound of ringing guitar strings, Farrar perfectly plucks every note.
High power harmonic fidelity boost high pass filter on a balanced line
Or a Cigarette on a headstock, all the same, just make it rhyme
And the Devil may care and the Devil Care when the Devil makes his rounds
And the Devil may care and the Devil Care when the Devil comes around
Not many still have their fastball after three decades of writing and running. Living what the great Robbie Robertson once called “A god damned impossible way of life.” Jay Farrar still has his, and this midlife renaissance is a thing of wonder. The work of just this decade, three critically acclaimed records, would be impressive for a brand new band, let alone one putting out records 7, 8, and 9.
Farrar, always looking outward, singing of injustices, and the wrongs of the powerful versus the powerless, sings in the 1st person a true stranger’s narrative.
They say I’m a criminal
What do they know
Rounded up my friends without papers to show
They wanna send us back…back to Mexico
He sees what’s happening at the man-made borders of a country he calls his own and doesn’t run from it, he doesn’t hide it in romance or metaphor. He speaks it plain, lays it bare for clear examination of anyone within earshot. Jay Farrar three decades later…trying with all his might to give voice to the voiceless…that is Jay Farrar. That is Son Volt’s Union.
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