Yes, Pitchfork readers, there's a new NMH in town, and this one is more likely to reference Ann Wilson than Anne Frank. Amid confusing reports that Royal Trux have broken up, Neil has gone the route of that other early Drag City artist and released a solo album. I still haven't heard the Malkmus record, but I gather from reviews that it's similar to his work with Pavement. Neil Michael Hagerty, on the other hand, is a bit of a curveball.
This record shares the Royal Trux fixation on rock history, but with looser songwriting and weirder instrumentation. And, of course, it doesn't feature Jennifer Herrema's crazed singing. I found her voice increasingly grating over the last two records, so that initially seemed a major plus. And in truth, I do enjoy this record more than Pound for Pound. Still, Herrema's vocal sneer was in some ways the soul of Royal Trux, and there does seem to be a hole in this record where her Steven Tyler-isms once existed. Maybe it's just me, but Hagerty seems a little lonely. He's playing every instrument; he's singing and writing every song-- the only person he's interacting with is himself. Royal Trux, at their best, always got mileage out of the image of partners in love doing it their way.
But now I'm getting into the circumstances surrounding this record, as if they mattered. What counts is the music. And the music sounds like the demo tape for the Grateful Dead's Aoxomoxoa, with better songwriting and worse sound quality. Seriously, for a guy that owns his own studio and frequently collects checks as a producer, Hagerty has made some bizarre sonic choices on this one. The drum machine and bass are way down in the mix; a deliciously cheesy organ (just like Pigpen used to play!) is way out front, and nearly every track is about one-third guitar solo. The songs are short, though, so that's not as bad as it sounds. And while not technically one of the better guitarists in music today, the guy can still make it howl like Allen Ginsberg in a wind tunnel. The harmonized guitar and organ parts on "I Found a Stranger" are a drone-lover's wet dream; when Hagerty bursts into his soulman falsetto around the three-minute mark, the contrast is divine.
The tunes these guitar solos hang on are 100% pure Americana, but filtered through a guy who's clearly removed from any sense of "authenticity." That is, Hagerty can sing a good folk tune like "Repeat the Sound of Joy," even though he doesn't sound like he's spent any time in the country. (And this despite living in rural Virginia!) This quality is what makes the Stones' Exile on Main Street such a great record. Both "Whiplash in Park" and "Fortune and Fear" thrive on classic rock riffs of the Allman Brothers kind, and "Creature Catcher" sounds like, I don't know, Canned Heat. As an anonymous hippie once suggested, "Turn it up, man!"
