What a difference a few years makes: When their self-titled debut was released back in 2001, Arkansas-by-way-of-Memphis-based Lucero were labeled alt-country, mainly because Ben Nichols sounded suspiciously like Jay Farrar, and because John Stubblefield's bass was of the upright variety. Just a few years later, though, they've become a solid part of the Southern rock revival that covers almost every state in the Confederacy: scene godfathers Drive-By Truckers from Alabama, Kings of Leon from Tennessee, and the North Mississippi All-Stars from, er, North Mississippi.
The Southern rock tag fits Lucero much better, not only because the band members fit the dual criteria of a) being Southern and b) rocking, but because they rock in a way that has little to do with country music, alt- or otherwise. As much as they derive their sound from classic and Southern rock, Lucero also borrow from indie and punk sources like Pixies and The Replacements, taking pop noise from one and pop romanticism from the other. In other words, they're not as out of place on the Tiger Style roster as they might seem.
Lucero's third album, That Much Further West, is not only their first for Tiger Style, but also their first to be self-produced (without the help of All-Stars Cody and Luther Dickinson). It was recorded mostly live in their Bluff City practice space, so it sounds less polished than its predecessor, Tennessee, but more melodic and adventurous.
The 13 tracks, not counting the instrumental coda, can be easily and handily divided into two categories: songs about romance and songs about manliness. On tracks like "Hate and Jealousy" (a satisfyingly cynical play on fellow Memphian Al Green's "Love and Happiness"), Nichols ponders what it means to be a real Southern man, solid, sturdy, and moral: "I want nothin' that ain't truly mine." On the one-minute-plus "Joining the Army", he considers enlisting as his only route to Greatest Generation-style manhood: "Said I wanted to make my grandfather proud/ But he's not around/ Been gone since I was 13/ I'm still worried what he'd think about me."
Much more interesting are the songs about tenuous or doomed relationships. Taken together, songs like the title track, "Sad and Lonely", "Mine Tonight", and "Across the River" form the unifying narrative of That Much Further West: Nichols is out in America somewhere playing shows and dreaming of his best girl, who is probably already "breakin' my heart to the boys back home." In these moments, he adheres to a particular brand of rock and roll romanticism-- the self-described "boy with the most metal heart of all" calls her his "best girl" or "little girl" and consoles her with, "I don't plan on dyin' young"-- which often limits his insight into his own problems. As a result, the songs are not as deftly analytical nor as coldly scrutinizing as, say, the divorce songs on the Drive-By Truckers' Southern rock revival watershed, Decoration Day.
On the other hand, few songwriters pull off romantic resignation quite as well as Nichols, who comes off in these songs as masochistically passive-- always the left, never the leaving. At the end of "Across the River", he knows that "when I get back, you're gonna break this heart," but accepts it with a shrug and a "well, alright."
Meanwhile, the rest of Lucero add dramatic punch to these tales of heartbreak. The group sounds rejuvenated by the addition of new guitarist Todd Gill, who replaces band co-founder Brian Venable. Venable's playing always sounded somewhat apologetic; by contrast, Gill asserts himself nicely, adding intuitive guitar lines that sound steeped in cigarette smoke and late-night letdowns. Unfortunately, Gill left the band in January, a development that does not bode particularly well for future releases.
Guitarists may come and go, but Lucero's mainstay, besides Nichols, is Roy Berry, the band's inventive and articulate drummer. His intricate rhythms and counter-rhythms pump and pulse like dance beats, invigorating and complicating the band's sound, never stifling its momentum with too much heavy-metal thunder. The instrumental parts on "Mine Tonight" move like drum-n-bass tracks, and the constant pounding on "Hate and Jealousy" adds bombast to guest John Murry's fiery guitar solo. "Tears Don't Matter Much" begins with an evocative guitar intro, before Berry's drums come in about twice as fast as you expect, completely redefining the song and dramatically expanding its possibilities.
On the penultimate song, a ballad entitled "When You Decided to Leave", Nichols finally realizes that his problems with himself and with women are more or less one and the same, but Berry interrupts his epiphany with blasts of staticky programmed beats. They ruin the song's intimacy but they don't ruin the song; it's less about Berry fucking around with Nichols than about pounding drums upstaging a sensitive ballad, rock and roll defeating settled commitment. If Nichols is the sad-sack journeyman dreaming of home and his best girl, then Berry sounds like the madman driving the tour van further and further west, ensuring that Nichols will have plenty of heartache to write about. Well, alright.
