Phil Lee
You Should Have Known Me Then
Shanachie Records 5745



by William Michael Smith

Being the jaded critic I have become most records usually take a spin or two to grow on me, but I liked You Should Have Known Me Then the first time I heard it. It was, for one thing, probably my favorite kind of sound, rocking but rootsy, twangy, jangly and extra edgy, part roadhouse and raucous, part folky, old timey and incredibly sincere in that Dust-Bowl-Okie way. There was even a taste of plunky Leadbelly blues. None of it was slick or polished and it certainly wasn't artsy or prissy.

The second time I heard it I took it over to my brother and asked him to listen because I thought it was really good, but I wondered what someone else would think. I often don't catch the full gist of the lyrics until about the third or fourth time through, but what I was catching was putting a grin on my face and I had no complaints at all about the music. My brother listened and agreed that he liked it too. We both thought it sounded like the occasional country stuff Mick Jagger and Keith Richards do. I was reading the press blurbs on Lee's website and I discovered that newspapers in Nashville and Chicago also thought Lee sounded like a country Keith Richards (but the best was a one-liner from Waylon Jennings that simply said, "That guy should switch to de-caf.").

Well, tonight I've had a couple of generous cups of cough-syrupy Merlot and I've listened to You Should Have Known Me Then a third time. And a fourth. And while I'm a peaceful man, let it be known that anyone who tries to take this record from me should be prepared for mortal combat.

What finally happened, as it usually does, is the lyrics finally fully penetrated my cranial barrier. (A little wine buzz never seems to hurt this process.) What was really strange was that it wasn't the songs like "Babylon" or "Carl's Got Louise" that had initially grabbed my attention that blew me away, it was one of the simplest, the Woody Guthrie-ish "3 Faces In The Window," with Gillian Welch and David Rawlings singing the backup harmonies.

We got dressed up and we went to a cafe, the new place on old Highway 1
I handed my keys to the valet, over-tipped him and said, "Why, thank you, son"
The hostess then showed us the way to our table, past patrons so well groomed and gay
As we took our places, I noticed 3 faces in the window looking our way
It was young man, I would say 30, spackles of grey in his hair
His clothes though old were not dirty, two young ones clung to him there
In awe of it all that father stood tall, his children's eyes all aglow
But the thought in each face read this is a place people like us cannot go

(Chorus)
I saw 3 faces in the window, so tired, so humble, so plain
As I stared at the bounty around me, I could not help but feeling ashamed

Now there are lots of performers who have heartfelt songs about the plight of the homeless, in fact it is almost a de rigeur badge that many artists think they must display if they are to be taken seriously in certain circles. Most of these contrived, clueless, "heartfelt" songs make me cringe. But with "3 Faces In The Window" I reckon Phil Lee has made as effective a statement as anyone has. No big words, no pulpit pounding, no pious, do-gooder, self-righteous rhetoric. I have to admit I actually got kind of choked up on this one. (Damn wine.) That sneaky Mr. Phil Lee penetrated my sophisticated, worldly, middle-class defenses and hit me right in my blue collar, Calvinist, there-but-by-the-grace-of-God-go-I upbringing. In the glow of the wine, I felt glad that there is a Phil Lee in the world.

While there is the obvious Keith Richards comparison, Lee reminds me of Bob Dylan during certain of his early periods. He has that Dylanish sand paper voice with the wry, fate-accepting, world-weary inflection, his lyrical vision is X-ray caliber, and his images have Technicolor vividness. While some of his tunes are raucous and hillbilly funny, others, like "3 Faces in the Window" and "Just Some Girl," are filled with the deepest compassion and humanity.

She was just some girl, plain and stout
She was nobody's dreamboat, nothing to write home about
Her hair was not like silk, her skin was not like milk
To the civilized world she was just some girl

Some girls are born holding the aces
You'll never see tears rolling down their faces
Some girls have dreams, some girls get choices
Encouraging voices assure their place in the world

The song doesn't seem particularly exceptional until this particular "some girl" is found dead (depression-related suicide is implied) "face down in the shadows of a willow" and Lee sings

It was just some girl, someone no one would kiss
Someone nobody would cry for, someone no one would miss
Her mama's gonna cry some though, her papa's gonna miss her so
There's a hole in their world, it was just some girl

Lyrically Lee comes closest to Dylan on the longish lowlife epic poem "Babylon." With an all-star lineup (producer Richard Bennett on guitar and Wilco's Jay Bennett, John Stirratt and Ken Coomer, Eric Holt on organ and Jared Reynolds on backing vocals), this dark vision sung in the form of a letter ("Forgive me, forgive me for not wriitn' in so long/I've been sick in my room/Well, I guess you know that's not quite true...") is cut from early Springsteen cloth.

Believe me when I say that things here are still the same
Me and the boys, we're going under another name
We're living in this ghost town now where the hollow creatures lurk
You remember James, the Blue Flames?
Well, now they're calling themselves The Lonely Berserk

And the night lays low on the boulevards of Babylon
The blood flows free 'cause the boys play hard in Babylon
Don't you know I kinda like here, it's my kinda town

Much of Lee's lyrical work is based on the school of hard knocks. Lee doesn't shrink from admitting that, despite the fact that his father was policeman and he was raised as in a church-going middle class family, he's stepped over the line many times. Several of the songs revolve around repentance, confession, or redemption. Certainly "You Should Have Known Me Then" and the rocking "Daddy's Jail" might contain kernels of autobiography.

Dear old Dad, he's a law man, he locks 'em up downtown
If you're the one slips up he's the one that brings you down
He makes an honest livin', more than I can say for me
I know I broke the law and that I won't go free

(chorus)
Don't put me in my Daddy's jail
He'd blame himself, he'd say where did I fail?
Put me anywhere you want but Daddy's jail

Not only does Lee have an extremely nimble poetic mind and vision, he has an amazingly flexible voice. Not only is there a Dylan vibe, at times he sounds like a hopped-up, verge-of-insanity Jerry Lee Lewis ("Good For Me"), and occasionally like Chuck Berry or Woody Guthrie as well as the aforementioned Rolling Stone. But in a beautiful duet with Alison Moorer on "It's Crying," Mr. Lee does a complete change of tone and tenor and enters a Roy Orbison or Rodney Crowell vocal zone. There are even moments on this song when there are Van Morrison echoes at play. This is by far the most sophisticated and radio-friendly cut on the album.

While "Daddy's Jail" and the bawdy hilarious rocker "Carl's Got Louise" have their humorous sides, there is nothing humorous about the title track. Delivered in an understated and unadorned style like an early Dylan record, with Lee soloing on acoustic guitar and harmonica, this matter-of-fact confessional track (we learn eventually that the narrator is a street bum) makes a perfect denouement for this astounding album. Lee doesn't pussy-foot around or candy-coat any of this wistful tale.

I used to run guns and dope for a motorcycle group
It was more than a means to an end
I loved my life of crime
I'd've slit your throat for a fuckin' dime
Yeah, you should have known me then

We writers at RockzillaWorld like to think we do all we can to make RockzillaWorld the home of the little artist, the deserving, honest, virtually anonymous artist who struggles to make music that matters while knowing full well that music that matters rarely pays the bills or receives public acclaim. In short, we like to think we are looking for integrity. I've reviewed over 70 records for Rockzillaworld the past 7 months, always on the lookout for those obscure artists who have something so rare and genuine that the big record corporations and their corporate radio lackeys run backwards from it. Early on in my Rockzilla tenure, I discovered to my absolute delight Ronny Elliott, a guy who, though a rough-edged, non-pretty boy vocalist, wrote and sang lyrics that were so real and fresh and vital that it seemed the ink hadn't dried when he recorded them, that the words and rhymes and ideas were radiating straight from some core nuclear source unfettered, uncensored, unconsidered directly to that little magic plastic disc. I also discovered Scott Miller's solo acoustic CD, R U w/ Me?, which, despite its rawness, was such a rich and lyrical and heartfelt Americana testament that it refused to get out of my CD player or my head. I've been looking for and hoping to find another Ronny Elliott or Scott Miller ever since. I've heard a lot of good records the past few months, some even superior records. But Ronny and Scott's were the CDs that I kept coming back to, the CDs that were in heaviest rotation in my player, the CDs I drug out when anyone asked what I was listening to that they ought to know about.

Until I got You Should Have Known Me Then by Phil Lee.

* Wondering where Billy Joe Royal has been hanging out? Buy You Should Have Known Me Then at www.phillee1.com and you can find Mr. Royal singing with Mr. Phil Lee on "Any Harder Than It Is." Word from Phil is that the record company wants him to push the record hard in Texas (smart record company), so be on the lookout for Phil Lee this fall in the Lone Star State.






Contact William Michael Smith at: wms-at-rockzilla.net

 
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