Americana Music Reviews

Ronny Elliott
Magneto
Blue Heart Records


by David Pilot

I'm sleeping at old Dos Mundos
Two doors down from Hemingway's room
I can't write like Papa I'm not able
But if the old man came back to Havana tonight
I'd drink him under the table

Ah, the curse of the drinkin' man
You don't have the genius to back up your ways

Where Bruce Springsteen wrote of a darkness on the edge of town, Tampa's Ronny Elliott sings of the darkness in life's center. Characters shuffle to vibrant life, painted in fluorescent yet somber colors aimed at illuminating the dark places where no one really wants to go, their story's imprint carved out by a deep and gravelly voice that gets way inside behind your brain. Since 1965 Elliott's been at this quest, this mission to craft some music that says something, and as the years and whiskey and bar smoke aged his pipes, they created something. . .vivid.

With his latest release, Magneto, Elliott churns out more turbulence and strife, more tales of the down and out whose lives are better than most if only because they've flown far closer to the sun and know the value of the smallest victories. Fans already in the know will appreciate this; fans yet to be made won't linger long in the fog of indecision. From the first chords, this record draws you close. Maybe it's a train wreck, maybe somebody's gonna die, but you wouldn't turn away or drown out the noise if you could.

I've held diamonds in my hand
That started off as dirty coal
Flat on your back
The stars in the sky
Will show you the way

There's hope to be found on Magneto, to be sure, the worn-out jeans kind of hope that comes from the battle-weary acceptance of the way things really are. Sometimes backed by a pseudo-calypso rhythm, as on "Broke Heart Blues," sometimes carried softly by the muted power chords of "Wrong Side," but always infused with brutal honesty's gentle truth, the sermon carries a weight not found in most Sunday morning oratory.

For those unfamiliar with Elliott, understand his music is not something that can be classified by normal parameters. He'll tell you he thinks he plays the blues, and that's actually true. Others will declare him rock and roll, and they're right, too. Country? Only in the sense that Elliott knows and believes in the roots of that genre. Sounds different, though. That leaves us with Americana, whatever that is, and it'll do. But the blues connection doesn't come from anything that sounds like B.B. King's beloved Lucille. The rock and roll damned sure isn't due to any Eddie Van Halen histrionics. Both comparisons, along with the country angle, come from a straightforward and deliberate delivery that ranges from spoken word to visceral singing and back without missing a beat. Neither appears to be a contrived stylistic hook; rather they seem to appear at the precise moment they're needed, as if speaking and singing were components of a language that makes more sense than English's plain-jane grammar. Only Johnny Cash ever did this better, and with a good long listen I believe you'll find that race may just be a bit too close too call. See "Mr. Shine Passed Last Night," a quietly spoken track relating the tale of one Shine Forbes. Forbes was a sawed-off denizen of the tropics paid often and well for the fearless heart he showed in the ring as a sparring partner for the hulking Ernest Hemingway when Papa needed to punch out a hangover. Check the irony and truth in "Halloween in Germany," about a guitar picker headed to Europe for some gigs after bidding his sweetheart adieu. Somehow the trip gets longer and longer, and before long, well. . .

Baby, I lied
With all the Sunday school in my past
I don't know what got into me
Baby, I lied
Like any hillbilly
On Halloween in Germany

Magneto, smattered with drunks and drifters, musicians and writers, the working men at the corner of the bar, is an album that will take you into the heart of darkness. Elliott's anything but puritanical, but the disc he's created is didactic in every sense and its lessons are layered in ways that require your full and repeated attention. There's unfettered beauty along the way, and a depth completely refreshing in its openness. Be ready to read between the lines, and get lost in the kind of revelations that only come from the power of the surf pounding Florida beaches well after midnight has passed.

I fear no man.
Woman with a knife,
That's a different story
I take what comes
I've fought my way out of rooms
Without fear in my heart
With a gleam in the eye
That girl standing there
In her moment of glory
I fear no man
But the picture of a woman with a knife
Makes my blood run cold

Most often you'll find Elliott's music compared to the legends of lyricists like Townes van Zandt, Guy Clark and the aforementioned Cash. I personally see a parallel to Bruce Springsteen, a conviction that grows each time Magneto slides into the changer. Where Bruce crafted lyrics with biting depth and intensity often laced with dejection and failure, Elliott pens lines that take the best of things from the worst of losses. Where Springsteen could create an apparently patriotic anthem from a blatantly anti-government song (Born In the USA, anyone?) by adding a rousing soundtrack, Elliott unleashes intensely quiet musicianship as a blacklight backdrop for lyrics that illuminate growth. If Bruce Springsteen is the Boss, Ronny Elliott is the one capo you do not want to fuck with. Listen closely to what he has to say.

*More on Elliott at www.ronnyelliott.com

Contact David Pilot at: tailgunner-at-rockzilla.net

 
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