INTERVIEWS-9INTERVIEWS-9
BUILDING A LIBRARY: GIANT
SAND
by Jason Cohen (from 'Stereophile' magazine)
"New Dylan."
Haven’t heard that one in a while, have you? Probably wish that was still the case, too. In addition to being both a curse and a cliche, the expression had rather limited descriptive power. It was invariably applied to someone wordy, folky, well-observed, gravel-voiced or all of the above. But it never encapsulated Dylan’s impact or spirit, the sheer messy wandering sense of freedom and possibility that’s kept him looking forward – and perfectly willing to fall on his face -- for 35 years.
These days, it’s nearly impossible for a rock’n’roll artist to follow a (sorry!) Dylanesque path. If the sense that everything’s already been done doesn’t get you, the demands of commerce, media and technology will. Audiences get confused if you change styles too readily (or so the A&R men insist). And if you make an album that actually gets noticed, the effort required to market it means you won’t get to do another for two or three years. The only way to be prolific, creative or daring is to fly below the radar, which is convenient, since at this particular turn-of-the-century Cultural Moment, the music most people think of as rock’n’roll is as cultish and marginalized as jazz or bluegrass.
Prolific, creative, daring, cultish, marginalized: that’s Giant Sand leader Howe Gelb in a nutshell. Part genius, part junkman, Gelb excels at forward motion, but he’s even better at travelling diagonally -- not necessarily the shortest distance between two points when you’re talking music rather than road maps. With the release of the brand new "Chore of Enchantment," Giant Sand and its offshoots have made 23 albums in 15 years. There have been masterpieces, mixed blessings and outright dogs; with that kind of productivity, a certain amount of wildness and weirdness is almost inevitable. As with Dylan, Neil Young or Joni Mitchell, that X-factor is part of what makes Giant Sand great. Gelb has summed up his output in typically laconic fashion. "The word is veer," he says.
A desert rat who has lived primarily in Arizona and the area around Joshua Tree, Gelb is actually a Jewish kid from Scranton, PA. But hey, if a similarly ethnic type from Minnesota or a sportswriter's son from Ontario can reinvent themselves as mythic American chroniclers, why not a boy named Howie? Gelb ignites unadorned guitar heroism and sardonic American songcraft with punk intensity, stoner slackness, free jazz attitude and surprise cracklings of glam, prog, psychedelia and skronk. He was also ludicrously ahead of the curve in his country-and-western dabblings. Giant Sand is just as likely to toss off a soulful pop tune as an abstract mood piece, and the band’s taste for ecumenical improv is such that Grateful Dead comparisons are not entirely unwarranted. Through the years, Gelb has fashioned an extended musical family a la the Rolling Thunder Revue, a gang that has included, among others, slide guitarist Rainer, country crooner Pappy Allen, Victoria Williams, Steve Wynn, Evan Dando, Chris Cacavas and most of the Continental Drifters.
Giant Sand started up in Tucson in the early ‘80s, releasing a 7" EP under the name Giant Sandworms (a reference to Frank Herbert’s "Dune") before settling on the abbreviated monicker. Fellow Arizonans Naked Prey and Green on Red got going around the same time, while up in L.A. the so-called Paisley Underground was full of post-punkers who unselfconsciously embraced the music of the ‘60s and early ‘70s. Instead of rejecting classic rock, they screwed it up with what they’d learned from punk, whether that was speed, heart, energy, naivete, volume or lack of technique.
Valley of Rain (Enigma, 1985) is skeletal but compelling. The nascent, leather-jacketed trio (Gelb, bassist Scott Garber and drummer Tom Larkins) burns through a series of prolix noir anthems, with Gelb’s taut vocals and freewheeling guitar at the center of every song. His six-string splattering sharply punctuates "Artists," an otherwise muted ballad that hints at Giant Sand’s long-term creative approach with these words: "And I like the way you paint/you can’t paint at all but I love what you don’t do."
Ballad of a Thin Line Man (Black Sand/Zippo UK 1986) makes a statement on its title alone, and Gelb’s choice in covers ("All Along the Watchtower" and Johnny Thunders’ "You Can’t Put Your Arm Around a Memory") only reinforces the point. With Paula Jean Brown (briefly of the Go-Gos, and then married to Gelb) joining up on second guitar, Giant Sand plants deeper roots and expands into more streamlined Crazy Horse/Television territory. The title track (epic twang banditry) and the Thunders tune (properly fashioned as a "Dead Flowers"-ish ditty) are standouts.
Meanwhile, Gelb had a whole other group going, an oversized country outfit called The Band of Blacky Ranchette, which was basically Giant Sand with Rainer, steel player Neil Harry and violinist Bridget Keating. In fact, Blacky came first, having recorded an album in 1983. The Band of Blacky Ranchette (New Rose, France, ROSE62) surfaced in 1985, and was quickly followed by Heartland (Zippo, UK, 1986, ZONG 014). What you’ve got here is the sound of Gelb pretty much inventing alternative country. He did so with more depth, scope and freewheeling frontier spirit than peers like the Long Ryders or Rank and File, and he did so at a time when Jay Farrar was doodling Cheap Trick lyrics in ninth grade homeroom.
As Blacky, Gelb’s writing is stronger, sweeter and more evocative. He delivers land songs, road songs and Civil War songs as panoramic country aches, with minglings of string, voice and melody on the one hand and skanky moonshine blooze on the other. The two records are allegedly available overseas as a single CD; various Blacky songs are scattered throughout the GS discography. "Both bands are one and the same" Gelb has said, "sometimes at the same time even."
Indeed, the next Giant Sand record felt like a direct successor to "Heartland." "Now Clint Eastwood and Neil Young won’t even make a statement on this one/’cause big guitars and big guns won’t put a dent in this one," Gelb drawls on "Uneven Light of Day," the first track on Storm (Black Sand/What Goes On, 1988, Demon UK CD FIEND CD 115). This ozone layer anthem sets the stage for a witty, lyrically ambitious album, even as the music becomes more concise and polished. Neil Harry moves into the line-up, while Brown takes over on bass from Garber (who went on to be an Austin, Texas music scene mainstay), adding a bit of an Emmylou factor in the process.
Harry’s yearning steel countrifies a sound that switches back and forth between acoustic-driven mid-tempo pop and hard-riffing bare-bones electric rock. Tracks like "The Replacement," "Town Where No Town Belongs" and "Town With Little Or No Pity" are miniature Westerns, though Gelb is more Peckinpah/Altman than Ford/Hawks. Even more modernist is "Bigger Than That," a befuddled, pointed commentary on Nashville and late ‘80s MTV that’s as wry as anything by Beck or Loudon Wainwright. The sylvan, effortlessly gorgeous title track is preceded by a lullaby, marking the recorded debut of cooing newborn Patsy Jean Gelb. Finally, the proud Papa continues to get away with covering songs that nobody should ever cover, closing out the record with "The Weight."
The Love Songs (Homestead, 1988, HMS125-2) is Giant Sand’s first blatant stylistic metamorphosis. Cacavas, just out of Green on Red, steps in on keys, while drummer John Convertino replaces Larkins (who would later star in "There’s Something About Mary" -- i.e., he became Jonathan Richman’s drummer). In part because of these personnel moves, the band transmuted into a glammy L.A. rock machine, Brown and Convertino in scintillating lockstep, Gelb and Cacavas going all googly with guitar and organ parts that would have sounded swell at the Whiskey circa ‘72. A treatise on the darkest matters of the heart, delivered as a series of sermons-on-high by Gelb's surreal, shamanistic persona, "The Love Songs" is simply stunning, a white-hot, soul-stirring mix of hazy blues poetry, rollicking keyboards, searing guitar licks, groovy backing vocals and sexy, sweaty, bittersweet songs. It’s the first record where Gelb reveals that he digs Monk, Motown and Morrison as much as Young, Dylan and Reed. A mere nine tracks long (including the traditional "how the hell did they get away with *this* one?" cover, a reading of "Is That All There Is?" that’s somehow more bone-dry than the original), it’s an absolutely perfect record.
Giant Sandwich (Homestead, 1989, HMS 134-2) is a straight outtakes collection, designed mainly for U.S. listeners unfamiliar with "Valley of Rain," "Ballad of a Thin Line Man" and the two Blacky albums. "The point being that all of these records are shy," Gelb explains in the CD booklet. "Some are imports, and others were handled by shy distributors." There are 7 alternate versions of songs from the first two records, plus three bonus tracks and 7 Blacky tunes. It works equally well as an introduction or a summation. There’s also Giant Songs (Demon UK, 1989, GSCD1) a straight best-of up to this point in the canon.
In John Convertino, Gelb had clearly found a musical soulmate, so while now ex-wife Brown watched the kid and Cacavas returned to his band Junkyard Love, the guitar/drum duo retreated to a little red barn in Rim Rock, California and cranked out Long Stem Rant (Homestead, 1989, HMS-148-2). It’s the band’s first serious excursion into cut-and-paste improv and D.I.Y. Beefheart mojo, in many ways the blueprint for all that would follow. Gelb plays two guitars worth $60 and $75, respectively, while Convertino’s four-piece traps are valued at $150 total. The track listing on the CD booklet is intentionally out of order. But of course, Gelb finds an end to his means, never missing a beat through 15 smash-and-grab songs (the CD adds 5 bonus tracks). The record is a perfectly paced exercise in mood and eclecticism that seasons the rhythm-and-noise snippets ("Smash Jazz," "Bloodstone," "Drum & Guitar") with heartbroken campfire songs ("Loving Cup," "Sucker in a Cage") and pedal-to-the-floor rockers ("Get to Leave," "Paved Road to Berlin"). Patsy’s contribution, incidentally, is learning to say "Bob Dylan."
With Giant Sand down to two members and a nine month gap between albums, what else could Gelb do with his excess energy but put on the old Black(y) hat.? Recorded in four separate sessions of 1, 1, 2 and 3 days, The Band of Blacky Ranchette’s Sage Advice (Demon, 1990, FIEND CD 181, reissued by Restless) assembles 21 musicians, though a good percentage of those are members of Poi Dog Pondering. Lucinda Williams, Duane Jarvis and past cohorts Harry, Keating and Larkins also show up. The record includes pitch-perfect covers of Waylon Jenning’s "Trouble Man" and "You Are My Sunshine" as well as two poignantly twanged versions of Giant Sand tunes ("Loving Cup" and "Outside an Angel’s Reach (3 6ixes)." There’s also "Burning Desire," a sultry duet with "Lucienda" Williams, and the title track, a bit of outlaw brooding that would make a great cover for Nick Cave. The CD includes seven songs from "Heartland." Another loosely brilliant effort that makes you wonder -- what might have come to pass, commercially and critically, if Gelb had pursued his country-rock muse more singlemindedly?
Swerve (Amazing Black Sand, 1990, AB-CD 01, Restless, 1993) is not the record where that question gets answered. Self-released by Gelb under the aegis of fictional label boss "Big Julie," it’s the sound of Giant Sand sucking in the ‘70s again, with traces of Mott the Hoople, "Sticky Fingers," T. Rex and yes, Dylan (a cover of "Every Grain of Sand" from "Shot of Love"). Several songs feature Juliana Hatfield as co-lead singer, all the better for Gelb to indulge his best "skinny white guitar player" fantasies on funky little garage-pop wannabe hits. The core band is still a duo; satellite members include bassist Mark Walton and his fellow Dream Syndicate alum Steve Wynn (who contribute "right side guitar zzzt"), plus Cacavas and Poi Dog (on the Dylan song, as well as Gelb’s Life Its Ownself opus "Trickle Down System"). Songs like "Can’t Find Love," "Sisters and Brothers" and "Former Version of Ourselves" articulate plainspoken romantic disappointment via groovy, tremolo-laden skunk-rock. What seemed indulgent at the time -- it is called "Swerve," after all -- sounds (and this is the sort of a music that demands an expletive) fucking great with a decade of hindsight. Classic Giant Sand moment: As "Angels at Night" trips out into squeaking, misaligned musicianship, someone begins to gripe: "I hate doing this kind of shit.... I’m a professional, I’m not no improviser... I think that part is weird!" Since the ranter in question is former Leaving Trains frontman (and Courtney Love ex-husband) Falling James Moreland, it might be an inside joke.
Gelb’s first solo record, Dreaded Brown Recluse (Houses in Motion Ger, 1991, Restless CD 1993) was recorded between 1986 and 1991 in various and sundry circumstances, the most interesting of which is this: Gelb and Convertino were involved in the film "Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey," attempting to approximate the unlistenable screech of "Wylde Stallyns" before Bill and Ted properly harness their musical abilities (such as it is). Their music didn’t make the cut, but legend has it Gelb did about half the record on the movie’s nut. "DBR" is solo in name only – Convertino, Burns, Rainer and Victoria Williams all appear, and it includes a number of Sand songs past and future. As ever, the tone varies happily. There’s the voodoo blues of "Spirit Lies," a jaunty "Picture Shows" and eight minutes of "...Bible Black" done Holiday Inn jazz-lounge style. Three unsettlingly lovely acoustic ballads – "Loretta and the Insect World," "Always Horses Coming" and "Warm Storm" – are brilliantly rendered, the last as a gorgeous duet with Paula Jean Brown.
Ramp (Rough Trade UK 1991, Restless 1993) brings Giant Sand back to the country for what is probably the band’s finest hour. It’s one of the best discs of the ‘90s, a timeless, emblematic early artifact of the so-called "No Depression" scene. The core band is Gelb, Convertino, stand-up bassist Joey Burns and electric bassist Brown; Neil Harry, Rainer (on dobro), Victoria Williams, Pappy Allen, Duane Jarvis and Dusty Wakeman (of Dwight Yoakam/Lucinda Williams fame) join forces to round out a "Town South of Bakersfield" supergroup. Allen, owner of Pappy and Harriet’s Pioneertown Roadhouse in Rim Rock, lends both wizened grandfatherliness and extraterrestrial warmth to the Jim Reeves classic "Welcome to My World" as well as Gelb’s loping original "Nowhere." There is old-fashioned rock’n’roll as well – "Shadow To You" (which first appeared on the soundtrack to the movie "A Matter of Degrees") is a textbook string-bender that could have been on one of the early records, "Always Horses Coming" is a nervous anthem that’s part Cormac McCarthy, part early Springsteen and part "Sister Ray," while Gelb and Brown reanimate "Warm Storm" as bouncy cactus bubblegum.
What makes "Ramp" truly special, however are four tracks that rank among Gelb’s best, songs that combine a certain abstract Zen clarity with effortless melodicism and lyrics that are both meaningful and glibly poetic. "Romance of Falling" describes just that, literally (as in, "the sky is falling") and figuratively, with guitars collapsing upon themselves while the voices of Brown and Williams, sirens, muses and lovers, teeter on the edge. Brown and backing vocalist Darra Crouch also dominate "Neon Filler" a verbose, piano-driven bit of ethereal metaphysics that could have been inspired by Joni Mitchell’s mid-period, or maybe it doesn’t sound like anything you’ve ever heard at all. Victoria takes front and center on "Wonder," contributing vocals and banjo to a song that celebrates the beauty of the world and the moment at hand with unadorned singing, frenzied guitar and precise naturalistic imagery. Then there’s "Seldom Matters," a contemporary existentialist hoedown that’s just flawless, from the clop-clop pace of the percussion to Neil Harry’s plaintive steel to Howe and Victoria’s co-lead vocal. "Seldom matters, the words that you say," Gelb intones. "Matters less the noise you play. Melody wraps it up in fine display..." Finally, for a coda, we have a watershed moment from Indiosa Patsy Jean (her post-toddler name). "Patsy’s Blues" begins with some serious metalli-fuzz guitar riffing and becomes a medley of Heart's "Barracuda" and the "Barney" song. "I love you/you love me....yepper yepper yepper yepper yeppers," she screams, sublimely.
By this point, Giant Sand’s improvisational methods were firmly established, to the point that the band could cut something in the studio and have no earthly idea how to do it onstage a few months later. "I realized that some songs were just meant to come at the moment and that was it," Gelb says. "They weren't the lithographs -- they were the paintings." Often, he would make up words on the spot, which, considering how substantive, mellifluous and formally satisfying the lyrics could be, is pretty remarkable. Gelb also let the tours dictate the records instead of vice-versa. To promote "The Love Songs," the band went out as a two-piece, which is what begat "Long Stem Rant." "Swerve" first took shape when Mark Walton joined up on bass, but by the time that record was recorded and released, the live ensemble included Victoria Williams and Pappy Allen, thus providing the seeds for an entirely different approach on "Ramp."
So then Burns, Convertino and Gelb toured as a tight little trio, leading to Center of the Universe (Amazing Black Sand/Restless, 1992, 7 72731-2), a highly pleasurable album that marries the rock energy of "The Love Songs" with "Ramp’s" wide open woozy desert feel. Cacavas temporarily rejoins the fold on keyboards, and the songs are also drenched with the dreamy girl-group vocals of "The Psycho Sisters," aka ex-Cowsill Susan Cowsill and ex-Bangle Vicki Petersen, both from the Continental Drifters. Gelb is soldered to his electric axe on this one, pumping out effects-heavy riffs and piercing Youngian leads on a series of snappy pop miniatures and loose-limbed cinematic road tunes. The lyrics deal in very specific imagery, sometimes nonsensical and sometimes narrative, that give Pavement’s Stephen Malkmus a run for the money as far as using words as much for the way they sound as for what they mean. This is another high point in the ouevre, from the ominous waltzing of "Loretta and the Insect World" to the surfrock tremors of "Milkshake Girl" to the sprawling two-lane mythologies of "Pathfinder" (which features lyrics first sputtered out by Gelb on "Patsy’s Blues") and "Stuck." Album art partially by Patsy -- and what’s amazing is you can see how her visual style was influenced by her father!
Purge and Slouch (Amazing Black Sand/Restless 1993, 7 72746-2) only *feels* like it was recorded during the "Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey" sessions. Okay, it’s not *that* bizarre, but the record, which process-wise could be considered a sequel to "Long Stem Rant," is everything the name suggests. Part contract-breaker (the band was about to move from Restless to Imago), part musical burp and part friendly Arizona fun, this 21 track album was recorded in producer Harvey Moltz’s living room, with new pal Malcolm Burn and old amigos Rainer, Neil Harry and Al Perry (of the Tucson band Al Perry and the Cattle) pitching in on about a half-dozen songs. Gelb admits to planning for something that could have been called "Metal Machine Music Volume II," but instead, he writes in the liner notes, "an immensely quiet record took place." The good tunes and striking moments of musicality are scattered; it’s a quirky, staccatoish record that emphasizes gritty instrumental dynamics ("lyrics were just luggage," Gelb concedes), prickly guitar and lo-fi, on-the-fly creativity. Sample song titles: "Santana, Castanada and You," "Slice and Dice Blues," "Thin Lizzy Tribute/ Personality Flaws/Last Word Johnny" and "Dock of the Bay" (they do it for 84 seconds, with Howe muttering and playing distorted guitar). Consider this one a specialty item.
The limited edition Stromausfall (Return to Sender/Normal, Germany, 1994, RTS-7) was recorded in a single night during the making of "Purge and Slouch." Working as an acoustic trio, with Burns manning the stand-up and Convertino using both sticks and brushes, the band does a Peel Session-style set of ten songs, including gypsy reworkings of "...Bible Black" and "Mountain of Love." A hard-to-find gem.
Meanwhile, the band’s British label came out with Giant Songs Two (Demon, GS CD 2) which revisits the first four records and also includes tracks from "Long Stem Rant," "Swerve" and "Sage Advice."
And so, after ten years and more than a dozen albums, Giant Sand made its major label debut with Glum (Imago, 1994, 72787-21037), which was recorded with Daniel Lanois protege Burn at Kingsway studio in New Orleans. Besides Burn and his colleague Trina Shoemaker, the guest roster includes Peter Holsapple, Mark Walton, Rainer, Chris Cacavas, Paula Jean Brown, Susan Cowsill, Bette Serveert guitarist Peter Visser and former John Mellencamp fiddler Lisa Germano (then a fixture at Kingsway with her own solo work). The record’s cover girl is Sofie Albertsen, who would ultimately become Sofie Gelb; she had sung on "Center of the Universe" and appears here as well. But the guest who matters most is Pappy Allen – he passed away during the making of the record, leaving behind a version of "I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry." "This record is severely dedicated to Pappy Allen," Gelb writes in the CD booklet. "If you never stopped in Pioneertown to see him then you are fortunate never knowing the pain of missing him."
While the biggish label and fancier studio gives "Glum" a broader, smoother sound, the music within mostly lives up to the title. Songs like "Happenstance," "Frontage Road" and "Faithful" are ponderous rockers that build to embers, a little bit gothy, a little bit bluesy and a little bit noisy. The bittersweet French Quarter atmospherics of "Yer Ropes" includes dobro from Rainer, slide from Holsapple and a pressure-cooker solo from Gelb, though the star of this lovely song is backing vocalist Shoemaker. The record’s centerpiece is "Left," which was written about Gelb’s late stepsister but becomes a Pappy song in this context. "All that you are/is the same as my heart/and all that you were/is near to me here," Gelb sings. It’s an emotionally naked piece of writing, with the appropriate sad sounds from Rainer and Neil Harry and (in a striking, circle-of-life sort of grace note) Indiosa Patsy Jean’s first serious backing vocal performance.
Needless to say, the deal with Imago did little or nothing to change Giant Sand’s place in the musical universe. In fact, "Glum" was the last proper record the band would release in the ‘90s -- incredible considering that Gelb is known for making albums faster than multiple record companies can release them. But Imago basically ceased to exist, leaving the group in major label limbo for the better part of five years. Of course, the long hiatus didn’t actually dent the band’s productivity –- they just had to resort to side-projects and guerilla tactics. Convertino and Burns joined up with steel guitarist Bill Elm in the cowboy/lounge instrumental combo the Friends of Dean Martinez. The duo then split off and formed Calexico, which has released three records of Morricone-influenced desert-rock on Quarterstick/Touch and Go. Burns, Convertino and Gelb also teamed with Germano in a group called OP8, resulting in one album, Slush (Thirsty Ear, 1997, THI57030.2).
Meanwhile, the parent company spit out a series of oddities, outtakes and live abstractions. Backyard Barbecue Broadcast (Koch, 1995, KOC-3-7914-2) is a mellow amalgam recorded in '94 and '95 for Nick Hill's "Music Faucet" show on the New Jersey radio station WFMU. It includes amiably shambling reconstructions of old tunes as well as solid versions of songs ("Good and Gone," "Mope-a-Long") that never made it onto a studio album.
Released as a sort of European companion piece, Goods and Services (Brakeout/Enemy Ger, 1995, OUT122-2) is a way-heavy live album, capturing the band in full-on rock mode, with Elm on pedal steel and guitarist Mike Semple complementing Gelb. A ten minute version of "Warm Storm" includes riffage from "The Boys Are Back in Town" -- and that isn’t even the only 10 minute track on the record! But rather than seeming (too) frivolous, this is an essential document of Giant Sand’s loudest, jammingest guitar army tendencies. Vic Chesnutt (covering "You’re So Vain") and Pappy Allen (his usual "Welcome to My World") provide the softer moments.
There’s also Official Bootleg Series Volume 1 (Epiphany! 1997, no catalogue number), an odds’n’sods affair that sounds like it could have been recorded in a single session. In fact, it sounds like it could have been improvised in a single sesssion, though the presence of several "Purge and Slouch" songs means that isn’t the case. It’s a record for fans, as intended. "We have a sonic vin yard (sic) and this is our pick of pluckings," Gelb writes in the liner notes. "Enjoy its wobble and subtle bouquet....we love to bottle our own and it shows." ("Official Bootleg Series Volume 2: The Rock Opera Years," was scheduled to be issued in the early portion of 2000, the first of many such releases on Gelb’s own Ow Om Recordings label. Ow Om also hopes to reissue "Glum" with bonus tracks).
Much of Gelb’s time and energy was then spent collaborating with... bet you can’t guess.... Robert Plant! The Led Zep legend knows a serious bluesman when he hears one, which is why Plant joined Gelb in masterminding a tribute to Rainer Ptacek, who was stricken with brain cancer in the mid-‘90s. Inner Flame (Atlantic, 1997, 83008-2) finds PJ Harvey and Emmylou Harris joining family members like Evan Dando, Vic Chesnutt, Victoria Williams, Kris McKay and Jonathan Richman to cover the steel guitarist’s compositions. GS and Rainer perform the title track, while Plant and Rainer wrote and recorded the song "21 Years" together. Plant and Jimmy Page also make a separate contribution.
Along similar lines, it’s worth nothing that "Sweet Relief," the 1993 Victoria Williams tribute album, features significant Giant Sand content. Burns, Convertino and Gelb have served as the backing band for both Williams and Vic Chesnutt in various touring situations.
Eventually, Giant Sand secured a record contract with V2, the company Richard Branson formed sometime after his non-compete clause (from selling his original label, Virgin, to Capitol-EMI) expired. The first fruit of this relationship was Gelb’s second solo record, Hisser (Ow Om Recordings/V2, 1998, 63881-27028-2). Like "Glum," it is a record of sadness, as Rainer succumbed to his illness around this time. "Him being gone is not good," Gelb writes in the liner notes. "These songs aren’t mostly about him but the dwell sneaks in." It is a true solo record – Convertino, Brown, Harry, Germano and Burns (on cello) appear on just a single track each. The band Grandaddy add a suitably wobbly feel to "This Purple Child," and there’s even another drummer, former (‘90s-era) Bob Dylan bandmate Winston Watson, on two tracks. Gelb plays most everything from piano to pump organ to antique guitar on what ends up being a low key, dark and pretty collection of 19 homemade four-track recordings Don’t bother playing with that Dolby button – if the title doesn’t tip you off, a little hiss is part of the sonic architecture.
On "Hisser," Gelb thanks the staff of V2 for "the structure to still make records like this." But just days after the company printed up advance CDs of the first Sand record in six years, the label decided that being in business with Giant Sand wasn’t necessarily good business. It’s hard to imagine what sort of commercial expectations the company had in the first place; ironically, V2 was coming off a great critical and (European) commercial success with a Mercury Rev record ("Deserter’s Songs") that wandered through the same sort of off-kilter psychedelic Americana that Gelb always had.
At any rate, limbo beckoned once again. But to V2’s credit the band was set free without any outstanding debt or lingering contractual obligations, allowing a white knight -- Chicago indie label Thrill Jockey – to step in and release the rare indie record with a six-figure recording budget.
Thus, Chore of Enchantment (Ow Om Recordings/Thrill Jockey, Thrill079, 2000), which was recorded in separate sessions (Tucson, New York and Memphis) with producers John Parish (P.J. Harvey), Kevin Salem and the infamous Jim Dickinson. The dramatis personae include Juliana Hatfield, Sofie Gelb, Neil Harry, Paula Brown and David Mansfield, ‘cause an actual member of the Rolling Thunder Revue was bound to show up in Giant Sand eventually. A vinyl-only bonus track marks the first appearance by Evan Dando on a Sand record after years of close calls (Gelb, Dando and Hatfield once toured Europe as a "supergroup" called Fruit Child Large).
Crystalline, beautiful and occasionally sinister, "Chore..." gracefully hoists the weight of all that time, money and delayed gratification. The band shimmers with quiet musical confidence over the course of 16 tracks that are eclectic (duh!), yet totally seamless. From piano ballads ("Raw") and high lonesome ditties ("Under a Punishing Sun") to Tom Waitsy trip-hop ("Wolfy") and otherwordly soul ("X-tra Wide"), all the tunes are united by spectral sonic underpinnings and a warmly elegiac vibe. Hatfield appears on "Temptation of Egg," redone from "Hisser" as a groovy Dixie lilt; Gelb’s lifelong R&B fantasies come to fruition on "Astonished (in Memphis)," a slow burn that features vocals from a pair of local gospel singers. The record’s centerpiece is "Shiver," another of-the-earth gem that’s awash in moonlit organ and sunset-ready steel, tossed together with a gently riffing acoustic guitar, supersweet female backing vox and, on top of it all, Gelb’s delicately matter-of-fact sense of wonder. The song’s key phrase tells you everything you need to know about the bearable lightness of being Giant Sand: It’s all about "The deliver of shiver."
Giant Sand are practically relics. Restless, prolific and unrepentantly bohemian, Howe Gelb is the sort of artist all creative types aspired to be like once upon a time. It’s a progressive/experimental archetype that can scarcely be found in our culture these days, except in the deepest netherworlds of jazz or underground rock. Giant Sand is also the very essence of America, in the most wonderful, old-fashioned, could-have-been-a-chapter-in-"Mystery Train"- sense. The band’s aesthetic is big-tent and borderless; the band’s very existence is a testament to freedom and commitment, to land and family, to music and community.
Where to start, then? "Ramp" and "The Love Songs" have to be considered the paragons, with "Storm" and The Band of Blacky Ranchette’s "Sage Advice" the most notable examples of the group’s hillbilly heart. If you’re so inclined, all of the records between "Storm" and "Center of the Universe" have their intriguing and unpredictable charms. Of course, starting with "Chore of Enchantment" and working through the discography backwards, sideways or upside down would be a perfectly Giant Sand thing to do as well. The word is veer.