Americana Music Reviews

 

Wayne Warner
Wayne Warner
B-Venturous

by David Pilot

Don't know about you, but the first two things that pop into my mind when I hear the word "Vermont" are the Olympic Flame and country music. Yep. Ethan Allen? Sorry. Didn't pay attention in history class. So maybe the quote above from a "Marketing and Image Consultant," whatever the heck that is, has some value. Wayne Warner's from Vermont, and his new CD is in the changer, so let's go see.

Who's Wayne Warner? He's a guy from up north, WAY up north, who got pulled into the family band at six years old and cut his teeth on square dances and polkas. A guy who went to Nashville at 16 and left because he figured he wasn't ready for it yet. A guy who got Harold Shedd (Alabama, Shania Twain, Billy Ray Cyrus, etc. ad infinitum ad nauseum) to produce his debut disc. And most intriguingly, a guy who's being heralded as the antithesis of Music City's current crop of clones.

My first question, then, is what's the deal with this disc's leadoff track, "I Wanna Do That Love Thing"? This song's as Nashville as Chris Gaines on a coke and Michael Jackson bender:

You can look left, you can look right
Everybody's holding somebody tight
I want, I wanna do that
Oh I wanna do that
Sharing their dreams all through the night
Holding one another till the morning light
I wanna do that, ooh I wanna do that

Hello, sap. Are you what they make maple syrup out of in Vermont?

Halfway through this intro song, the CD almost flies out of the changer on its own as if propelled by an unseen horror. It's a good thing there are ten other tracks. The first one's understandable from a Marketing and Image perspective, but its distinguishing characteristic is that Warner doesn't wear a hat. Slap a ten-gallon on him and this is a Chesney special. Which makes "No News to You" a surprise, one that takes a few listens to begin appreciating. The glitz and glam are still there in a pristine production and seamless musical effort. The lyric is contained, safe, and well-traveled. But the voice. . . that's something new. Not much pseudo-twang to be found in the vocal chords of Vermont, but there is such a thing as authenticity in the frozen tundra. It's here in spades, and rings true in a way far beyond the song's simplistic ode to the woman done gone. "Life After You" mines the same familiar vein, pulling in a harmony chorus that echoes CMT's Greatest Hits but does add an undeniable and catchy beauty. The subject matter still goes straight for the newly-divorced middle-aged professional woman's heartstrings, but does so in a manner that sounds, well, fresh. Hmm.

It's just another day in the life after you
Twenty four hours I'll try to get through
It's all black and white yet it's desperately blue
It's just another day in the life after you

There's a lot of this to be found in Wayne Warner. "This" being confusion, because so much of this sounds like the tunes you hear as you try to quickly slide past major market country radio on the way down the dial, but somehow sounds completely different. The voice driving each song is the key here; it's not like anything you've heard before. Maybe that's due in part to a singularly striking fact: Warner wrote or co-wrote all eleven tracks here. That's just about unheard of these days on debut albums - - most of the pretty boys have to slog through a maudlin catalog and sell their souls for two or three gold albums before they get to put something of themselves on display. Right, Toby?

One thing to really like about Warner, though, is that he's comfortable enough in his own skin to be self-deprecating when appropriate. Great example can be found at www.waynewarner.com/lyrics/heart.html. Here, as lead-in to the lyrics for "Things You Make My Heart Say," Warner adds a note of his own:

"I always say that this is one of those songs that you either love or hate with no in between. As I was writing this song, the town mechanic stopped in for a coffee and came up with a few great lines. I guess everyone IS a songwriter."
Wayne Warner

The lyric goes thusly:
Oh you swept me off me feet
You've got my head spinning
And you make my knees so weak
I'm in love oh don't you know
The things you make my heart say

CHORUS
YI PI YI PI KY YI YI PI KIYA
AH AH OH YA
OH YA MAKE MY HEART SAY
YI PI YI PI KY YI YI PI YIYA
EM EM AH AH HEY HEY YI PI YI PI KY YI
YI PI YI PI KIYIA

Not quite the Bruce Willis take on the "Yippy ki ai yay" line, to say the least. So, I hate it. But that's just me. If you like catchy and a bit mindless as background music, this one's yours from git to go. "My Piece Of Heaven On Earth," on the other hand, begins to really show the promise Warner's capable of. Where "Things You Make My Heart Say" would serve as a capable jitterbug number, this track showcases a lush string arrangement and heartfelt sentimentality that comes off as genuine - - a tricky proposition in any genre these days. And again, Warner's voice here soars above the melody in a striking fashion. Shedd's masterful production has a lot to do with that, but you and I both know the guy at the board can't make magic out of cow chips. Might be able to make them listenable, but no sound man can generate the catch in the voice, the phrasing, and the all-around aura that Warner showcases here. His pipes are the real deal.

There's even a Christmas song along for the ride, the charming "If I Believed In Santa Claus," an adult look at the hope and promise of childhood's innocence besieged by the cynical anger and fear of adulthood in our troubled times. Since it's a Christmas song, the child in each of us conquers, as should be the case. But again, what's striking here is that in the midst of simplicity and lyric safety, Wayne Warner manages to evoke something true. The sound itself, folks, is Nashville. Make no mistake. Harold Shedd's name isn't here for nothing. But the soul that comes through the crystal clear and sparkling production rings true. I'd like to tell you this is just another example of Nashville shoving the same old same old down our throats, I really would. And if I said so based on generic lyrics and standard board work, I'd be right. But the voice speaks volumes, and finds new meaning, even depth, in the safe and close-to-home verbiage on display here. Wayne Warner's serious about his art and it shows. If he chooses to lay down some complexity with his next effort and leave the safety of a reasonably strong debut behind, he sounds like he's got what it takes to do something special. But, like Ethan Allen and his Green Mountain boys knew as they stood outside Fort Ticonderoga a coupla hundred years back, doing something special and being remembered past one's tombstone requires some risk. I hope Wayne Warner's up for it, because I want to hear what he can do when he's going all-out.

www.waynewarner.com has a bio, lyrics and convenient one-stop shopping if you'd like to give this debut disc a spin yourself.

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

 
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