(Loudon Wainwright III: Guitar, Vocals; Joe Henry: Guitar, Producer; Greg Leisz: Guitar, Mandolin, Pedal Steel, Mandola, Lap Steel Guitar, Weissenborn; Bill Frisell: Guitar; Jay Bellerose: Percussion, Drums; David Piltch: Bass; Patrick Warren: Piano, Chamberlin, Pump Organ, String Arrangements, String Conductor; Daphne Chen, Eric Gorfain: Violin; Richard Dodd: Cello; Leah Katz: Viola; Hank Stockard: Radio)
Singer/songwriter Loudon Wainwright III is best known to some listeners as the father of Rufus and Martha Wainwright. But the elder Wainwright has been writing and performing sardonic, witty and often poignant folkish tales for about four decades. Recovery finds Wainwright glancing back at his younger self, re-recording thirteen songs from his first four albums, which span from 1971 to 1974. However, this is not a retrospective, or a greatest hits collection, nor a nostalgia trip. Roots-oriented producer Joe Henry (Elvis Costello, Solomon Burke), who worked with Wainwright on the soundtrack for Judd Apatow’s 2007 summer comedy Knocked Up, convinced Wainwright to revisit some of his earliest material, giving the older lyrics and music a fresh perspective.
The result is something of an enigma. Long-time fans who know Wainwright’s repertoire and own or have heard his early records will already be familiar with these tracks, and may not rate the revived songs as indispensable. Those curious about the guy who contributed to the Knocked Up or The Squid and the Whale soundtracks may discover this isn’t the prime place to fully appreciate Wainwright’s songwriting.
Nevertheless, Recovery succeeds in its intent of uncovering new meanings to tunes penned by Wainwright’s post-adolescent self. It’s hard to imagine Springsteen or Dylan being able to carry off this kind of reclamation of one’s past work. Wainwright has always had the ability to be superficially happy while simultaneously sifting through a cynical underside. But Wainwright’s famous misanthropic humor and ironic attitude are largely absent on Recovery. The gravity and weight of youth-lost narratives like “School Days” is palpable. When Wainwright wrote the lyrics to “School Days,” he was a twenty-something young man boasting of his summery escapades, but Wainwright gives the new version a mature twist as he recalls his Richard Farina-esque college experiences: “I was Brando, I was Dean/Oh how I made them turn their heads.” Here and on the other cuts, Henry and the musicians, Greg Leisz in particular, add instrumental shading, placing subtle country and folk arrangements which assist Wainwright’s middle-aged point of view. Wainwright’s voice also makes a difference, his vocals showing sensitivity and the deeper tone he’s developed over the last forty years.
“Motel Blues,” originally found on Album II (released in 1971), was initially an ode to a one-night-stand with a groupie, but now sounds more despondent than comical. The slightly Nashville adaptation fits the solitary mood, as Wainwright peels away any lingering thoughts of romance on the road. Graceful piano and pedal steel guitar underscore the elegiac first-date remembrance “New Paint.” Henry even drops in some Tom Waits-ian eccentricity during the woozy and boozy “Drinking Song,” a blues discourse, concerning how alcohol affected Wainwright’s father, accentuated by ghostly slide guitar and off-center percussion.
Not everything is well-executed. The bluesy opener “Black Uncle Remus” seems more an excuse for some dexterous mandolin picking and punchy percussion; and there’s nothing especially inspiring in regard to “Muse Blues,” complete with fuzzed-up guitar that rumbles louder than Wainwright’s plea for a brainstorm.
TrackList:
1 Black Uncle Remus
2 Saw Your Name In The Paper
3 School Days
4 The Drinking Song
5 Motel Blues
6 Muse Blues
7 New Paint
8 Be Careful There’s A Baby In The House
9 Needless To Say
10 Movies Are A Mother To Me
11 Say That You Love Me
12 Old Friend
13 Man Who Couldn’t Cry
— Doug Simpson
