Even if you've never heard a single note from the Louvin Brothers, odds are good that you've at least seen the cover of their 1959 album, Satan Is Real. The discrepancy between that emphatic title and that plywood demon landed it on countless lists of worst or weirdest album covers, usually alongside Paddy Roberts' Songs for Gay Dogs and Orleans' Waking and Dreaming. Charlie and Ira Louvin devised the concept for the artwork themselves and set everything up in an old quarry, cutting Satan from Charlie's son's miniature train table and filling old tires with kerosene to simulate Hell. Then, as if on some Biblical cue, it began to rain, so their poses were hurried and awkward so their white suits wouldn't get drenched. Still, as silly as it may be, there's something curious about that image, especially that folk art figure looming in the background, bucktoothed and cross-eyed. It doesn't look professional or polished, which fits the music: The Louvin Brothers may have been signed to Capitol, but like so many other rural artists who never settled comfortably into either secular or gospel, they still sound both compellingly raw and incredibly sophisticated.
Satan Is Real is the duo's best-known record, not only for its cover but for songs like "The Christian Life" and "The Kneeling Drunkard's Plea", famously covered by the Byrds and Johnny Cash, respectively. Will Ferrell even incorporated the title track into his one-man show, You're Welcome, America: A Final Night with George W. Bush. The album represents a shift from secular to religious music after several years away, and yet the Louvin Brothers weren't necessarily trading one for the other. Like Johnny Cash or even Elvis Presley, they blended popular and church music to amplify the qualities of the other. "There's a Higher Power" snaps back and forth in a spirited call and response, but it's the shuffling snare that drive those exultant shouts of "Amen!" Similarly, the piano that pushes "The River of Jordan" along its freighted path belongs more to the barrelhouse than the revival tent.
The Louvin Brothers, despite being brothers and such naturalistic harmonizers, were spiritually and temperamentally mismatched, which may explain the equal emphasis they placed on darkness and light. Charlie adhered strictly to the message of these songs and was likely the guiding force behind Satan Is Real, but Ira was an angry drunk who routinely smashed mandolins on stage and showed up late to concerts. He was shot twice by a wife who claimed he beat her, and he allegedly tried to strangle Presley, whose big beat Ira saw as an affront to country music. Those extremes reflected in their music, at least until Charlie broke up the act and, in a grim irony, Ira was killed by a drunk driver in 1965.
Their entire catalog devises a seemingly contradictory mix of the holy and the worldly, the sacred and the profane. How could an act that revels in "The Christian Life" turn around and sing a dire murder ballad like "Knoxville Girl", whose grisly details still provoke winces even half a century after they sang it? To the Louvins' understanding, man's boundless capacity for sin matched his boundless capacity for salvation, so they weren't simply going to nudge you along the righteous path; they were going to run you off the highway to hell. "Satan Is Real" sets the tone and the churchly tableau, as the brothers harmonize on a hymnal chorus before Charlie interrupts with a monologue reminiscent of Hank Williams' Luke the Drifter homilies. "You can hear him in the songs that give praise to idols and sinful things of this world," he declares of the devil. "You can see him in the destruction of homes torn apart." It's a scare tactic, yet the brothers' precise vocals and Ira's always agile picking lends the song an urgency and gravity, as though they might be that deeply invested in their listeners' faith.
These songs may kill off dear mothers, struggling drunkards, debased sinners, and even innocent little babies, but Satan Is Real somehow conveys jubilation rather than penance, which is likely what inspired 60s country rockers like the Byrds and the Dillards and continues to bear on so many artists today. To that end, Light in the Attic is jointly issuing Handpicked Songs 1955-1962, a compilation of Louvin Brothers songs chosen by musicians representing several generations: Dolly Parton, Chris Hillman, and Kris Kristofferson, as well as Beck, Jim James, and M. Ward, among others. On CD, the sets are packaged together; on vinyl, they're available separately (there's also a vinyl-only reissue of their 1956 LP Tragic Songs of Life).
Sonically, vinyl is the better option, but musically, the 2xCD edition provides a better introduction to the Louvin Brothers. Perhaps because it's set so irremovably in the church, Satan Is Real may not be their most accessible album, which means Handpicked Songs makes for a livelier complement than outtakes or live performances and allows for a secular counterpart to the sacred music. It reaches beyond their hits to unearth some deeper catalog cuts like the spry "Low and Lonely" (chosen by Jim James) and the loping "Scared of the Blues" (chosen by Devendra Banhart), which reveal the scope of their songwriting, the agility of Ira's mandolin playing, and the exuberance of their keening harmonies. Especially for an album produced by committee, Handpicked argues persuasively for the Louvins' relevance long after rock'n'roll supposedly rendered their music obsolete. Even at a time when so many church-bred artists were exploring more worldly markets, the struggle between salvation and damnation has rarely sounded so lively or so gloriously conflicted.
