- Anne McCue
Roll
Messenger Records
By Michael Hansen
 Everybody knows
that girls can't play guitar, especially electric. Sure, plenty
get up and strum along, even pick a little, but when it comes
to the heavy-duty stuff, they're just not in the game are they?
Now this is no sexist polemic, it's simply an observation of
reality. Seriously, some of my best friends are women, but sadly,
the evidence is there for all of us to witness. Line 'em up and
see for yourself, the proof of the pudding is in the hearing.
Give yourself the task of nominating the first twenty inductees
to a Guitar Hall Of Fame. Too easy; let's see, we've got Jimi,
BB King, Eric, Mark Knopfler, Buddy Guy, James Burton, Billy
Gibbons, Chet Atkins, Stevie Ray and Jimmie Vaughan. Now that's
ten, without much thought at all. Any girls in there? Nope, not
a single one, and it's not likely that any would make it into
the next ten either. It's axiomatic, the earth is not flat, you
can't get blood from a stone, there are no weapons of mass destruction,
and girls can't play!!
Actually, this is more of a lament rather than some chauvinistic
boast. Just how has this sorry state of affairs come to be, is
this an aberration, a Darwinian screw up, or just the way the
cookie crumbles?? It would greatly surprise if there were any
genetic predisposition either towards or away from guitar playing,
it's just possible that girls are not as enamoured of the strut
and posturing that frequently accompanies strapping on a Stratocaster
as many boys are, or maybe they just don't want the calluses.
I give up, it beats me, and I wish it were not so. But stop
children, what's that sound? It's the Hendrix showpiece "Machine
Gun", and from the crash of the opening chord right through
to the shuddering feedback drenched finale nine minutes and twenty
three seconds later, it is the real deal, spectacular rock and
roll guitar at it's finest. Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce
Anne McCue, who has comprehensively broken the mould, and whose
reprise of "Machine Gun" represents one of the more
audacious performances to be committed to record in recent times.
The CD is Roll, Anne McCue is Australian, but resides
in California, is the youngest of eight children, learned her
chops in arenas as diverse as Lilith Fair and the bars of Ho
Chi Minh City, and is, dare I say it: a girl. She also has friends
in high places having toured with Lucinda Williams, and opened
for Dave Alvin and Richard Thompson. Williams is perhaps her
staunchest ally, describing McCue as "my new favourite artist...and
an amazing guitarist."
McCue is a devotee of the minimalist guitar, bass and drums
configuration that has spawned many a guitar hero, and on Roll
the trio is rounded out by a couple of Texans in Dusty Wakeman,
who has done bass duties with Lucinda and Dwight Yoakam, and
drummer Dave Raven. Wakeman also shares production credits with
McCue. Augmented by only minimal overdubs of Hammond B3, accordion
and guitars, the triple threat format characterises the feel
of Roll. Mc Cue says, "I like that people triangle,
and I wanted to record like that: guitar-bass-drums." The
end result is a collection of songs replete with muscular, melodic
hooks, graceful lyrics from the school of real life, and spectacular
yet economical instrumentation.
"I Want You Back" kicks off proceedings. It's a
mid-tempo lament that examines the dilemma where being in a destructive
relationship is weighed up against being alone.
"I think I'm goin' down slowly
Yes I think I'll lose control
You crucify my love
You terrorise my soul"
"Cause I, I want you back
I want you back"
"Nobody's Sleeping", with it's elegant guitar riff
and fuzz-tone solo perhaps sums up what's best about Roll.
With powerful virtuosity at her disposal, McCue remains committed
to the song, the feel and the groove.
The influence of mentor Williams is up front on "Stupid".
This is vintage "Car Wheels On A Gravel Road" stuff,
particularly recalling "Right In Time". Melodic jangling
guitars and an irresistible sing along chorus make a compelling
case for McCue's ear for a radio friendly tune without descending
into the commercial mire.
"Stupid, on a lonely afternoon
I almost gave up on my life too soon
Reckless, at the lonely close of day
I almost listened to what the prophets
The prophets had to say"
Restraint is again the key on "Crazy Beautiful Child"
McCue's words create a sense of real longing for a lover who
won't be tied down, one whose "sails are filled with make
believe". Yearning harmonies in the choruses add to the
poignancy, and the melodic solo is perfect for the song's feel.
Prayin' for you day and night
I live my life by your light
We made a promise long ago
You'll always be my own"
An ominous, throbbing bass line and muted drums introduce
"Hangman", which for my money is just about the standout
track. When McCue joins the party with her wailing slide guitar
and distorted vocal the haunting ambience is almost palpable.
Chugging organ and layers of howling slide figures immerse us
in an atmosphere that is equal parts murky, swampy tension, and
unsolved mystery.
"In the valley of darkness
In the valley of night
I saw my baby swinging'
In the pale moonlight"
I said, hey Mr Hangman
Won't you show your face tonight"
The lengthy, funky work out on "Hangman" gives McCue
ample opportunity to demonstrate her formidable guitar chops.
Never indulgent or excessive, her playing is atmospheric, compelling
and convincing.
The introspection and questioning of self worth continue on
the acoustic interlude of "50 Dollar Whore". It's waltz
time prettiness provides a startling counterpoint to the doubt
and loathing of the lyrics.
"A fifty dollar whore
Could solicit more respect
Than I gave to myself
Knowing who you are
Knowing what you do
Knowing how you were before"
The propulsive power pop of "Tiny Little Song" continues
the thematic thread of the preceding tracks. "My fate is
incomplete, Bloodied feathers on the street", sings McCue,
and you wonder just how many times can a girl have her heart
broken.
Lovely acoustic guitar and wistful vocals take McCue back
to her childhood as a "Milkman's Daughter". Her father
was a milkman and her mother a nurse, and she achingly yearns
for the innocence and unconditional devotion of the father-daughter
bond. Poignant images of the connection abound, "big hands
steering", "rum tobacco" and "laughing gears"
all bring comfort and security, but it won't and can't last forever.
The "blue Dodge driving down a suburban street", must
stop sometime, it's temporal not eternal, and inevitably:
"Green grass graveside
He's gone to the other side
The rain fall from the sky"
Holy water
Milkman's Daughter"
The title track is a terrific song. "Roll" has an
upbeat chugging rhythm evocative of a Tony Joe White or John
Fogerty special. McCue defiantly testifies, "I gotta ride,
I gotta roll" with conviction and fortitude, and the doubt
of preceding tracks is banished. Now loaded with a swagger bordering
on bravado, the song surges forward, and gives us a chorus that
lodges in your mind and just won't quit.
"I feel alright for someone who was kicked out of
school
I feel alright for someone who was told she was a fool
I feel alright for someone who was pushed around
I feel alright for someone who was forced to leave town"
The pulsating "Gandhi", explores themes of betrayal
and the ease with which the purest motives can be undermined,
as does the moody wistfulness of "Where The Darkness Grows".
The latter song again dwelling on this recurring spectre of being
picked up only to be let down.
"Why'd you have to run away?
You stole the fire from my eyes
You took the meaning from my stride
Why'd you have to run away?"
"Ballad Of An Outlaw Woman" promises to break the
tension created by the swings from self-doubt on the one hand
and rising belief and confidence on the other. The song is initially
slow, tentative, reflecting on the woman's past. The restrained
guitar and whirling accordion provide a questioning atmosphere,
"Never swam Old Man Mississippi, never got myself to look
pretty", but help and ultimately affirmation are at hand.
"He said "Annie get your gun,
Get a job, there's work to be done
Was a man, a man who called me son
To keep a love alive gotta hide
What you feel inside"
When it comes, the response is sudden but telling. Pounding
drums and sheets of blazing lap steel resolve the issue unequivocally.
Recalling The North Mississippi All Stars in their monster riff
mode or even Led Zeppelin on "When The Levee Breaks",
McCue's instrumental closure of "Ballad Of An Outlaw Woman"
is thrilling in it's virtuosity, while remaining thematically
relevant.
Roll is a very, very good recording. Anne McCue is
a super instrumentalist, an assured singer and a songwriter of
economy, conviction and honesty. She and her Lone Star cohorts
have produced a set of songs that are always accessible, very
listenable, and most tellingly, they never take their eye off
the groove, the pulse that makes this music work. It's not drawing
too long a bow to suggest that with Roll, Anne McCue is
well on her way to joining formative practitioners of the three
piece genre like Hendrix, Cream, The Police and Stevie Ray and
Double Trouble on the top shelf.
Perhaps more importantly, Anne McCue stands in solidarity
with a thankfully growing band of young women of fierce integrity
who are committed to making quality, honest to goodness music
that rocks, swings and thrills on their own terms, and they continue
to deliver the goods. Tift Merritt, Allison Moorer, Patty Griffin
and Kathleen Edwards, along with countrywomen Kasey Chambers
and Mia Dyson are just a few who stand shoulder to shoulder with
Anne McCue. You mess with these formidable gals at your peril.
Oh yeah, then there's "Machine Gun". Where IS that
volume control? Ahhh that's better. What's that dear? Too loud?
Too loud for what? Too loud to think? That might not be a bad
thing! What's that? Nothing sweetie, nothing at all!
The reviewed CD contained a second bonus disc that contains
four live tracks which previously appeared on her limited release
Live: Ballad Of An Outlaw Woman CD.
www.messengerrecords.com
www.annemccue.com
Contact Michael Hansen at hansen-at-rockzilla.net
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