From The Record Shelf: The Alpha and Omega of Jay Farrar

The story of Son Volt is of course closely linked to the ignominious end of predecessor band Uncle Tupelo. After relations between Jay Farrar and "the bass player" as he only deigned to call Jeff Tweedy afterwards had reached a point of rien ne va plus, they broke up the band with Tweedy forming Wilco out of the remaining Tupelo members while Farrar hooked up again with original Uncle Tupelo drummer Mike Heidorn and brothers Dave and Jim Boquist, the latter contributing all kinds of instruments, from fiddle and dobro to pedal steel. Son Volt quickly recorded our One Buck Record of the day, Trace. Trace is a great album. It is a very Jay Farrar album. It is also pretty much the only album from Son Volt you'll ever need. 

Let me explain. Even a cursory listen to Trace will reveal how much they sound like Farrar's old band and how much Uncle Tupelo's music and mood were originally influenced by him. Which of course led to the fits of jealousy that broke up the band when Tweedy began to assert himself more. But Trace also reveals another truth about Farrar's songwriting, namely that Farrar wrote and rewrote the same songs over and over. Some of his best songs are on Trace, but that's why I call the album his alpha and omega in the title: you don't really need to listen to any Son Volt after this. Farrar has said everything he had to say here, in a way he rarely equaled and never bettered. 

"Well, are we having fun yet, guys?...huh?!...uh, guys?!?"

Take opener "Windfall" for example, a modern Americana classic if ever there was one. The storytelling in that long all night ride down the lonely midwest is fantastic, and the details are telling. "Switchin' it over to AM, searching for a truer sound..." intones Farrar's protagonsit, ending up with a country music station from somehere in Louisiana, "sounds like 1963, but for now, it sounds like heaven". Farrar's music, searching for a truer sound, always looking backward, also starts to sound like you are stuck on a retro radio station. This, of course, was the ultimate humiliation for Farrar, assuring an amount of grumpiness that makes Oscar the Grouch look cheerful by comparison: Wilco, after the admittedly unsure debut of A.M., began with Being Here not only to gain critical acclaim that soon surpassed Son Volt's, but also began to move into all kinds of interesting, enticing directions: art pop, electronics-tinged pop, krautrock. Whereas Son Volt didn't move, not really, proudly running to stand still, keeping Farrar's twin occupations of Neil Young& Crazy Horse-like guitar rockers and sad country weepers alive, but never moving out of these boundaries.

Farrar contunues plowing the same field. It's - as you will hear on Trace - a great field, but how many times can you rework the same soil before it gets barren? Still, Trace shows Farrar & Co. in exceptional form, alternating said guitar rockers and country weepers, and working both to (almost) perfection. "Windfall" is a sort of modern classic, but "Tear-Stained Eye" isn't much behind. "If learning is living, and the truth is a state of mind / You''ll find it's better at the end of the line". Farrar's protagonists here are on the run again, from something they can barely define to somewhere they can not possible get to. As he sings in "Windfall": " Never seem to get far enough / staying in between the lines / hold on to what you can / waiting for the end / not knowing when". Springsteen's protagonists also were always on the run out of small town America towards an unknown future, but they at least always had a glimmer of hope. Farrar's don't: "We're all living proof that nothing lasts",as he sings on "Route". 

Fittingly black and white, mostly black...

All of these reflections make it sound like Trace is a total downer of an album, but it isn't. It is, however, the best display of Farrar's pitch-black world view and the sharpness of his songwriting. That's why the most tender and hopeful moment on Trace doesn't come from Farrar's pen, but rather incredibly, from that of Ronnie Wood in closer "Mystifies Me". Mystifying indeed. So, here's one of the true classics of 90s Americana...and may the wind take your troubles away...