Mastersons, Railroad Earth, Asleep at the Wheel, and More

Just before COVID shut down live music for the foreseeable future, I attended a show headlined by Wilco. They were merely okay, but I was quite taken by The Mastersons, who opened the evening and enlivened its ending when they joined Wilco on stage. You might recognize the husband/wife duo of Chris Masterson and Eleanor Whitmore, even if you don’t know their solo work; they’ve been part of Steve Earle’s band The Dukes, and have also worked with Jack Ingram and Son Volt, among others. The Mastersons have got a new album coming out, No Time for Love Songs, which has a pretty good pedigree; it’s produced by their friend Shooter Jennings (son of Waylon and Jessi Colter). Unlike Shooter, though, their music tends to be more optimistic than the usual outlaw country fare. The title song touches on holding onto a relationship when the world conspires against it, but also leaves some wiggle room for hope. As Red House Records puts it, the album “explores the emotional challenges of a morally compromised era.” There is great energy and synergy throughout, with a typical song built around Masterson’s robust guitar and Whitmore’s let-‘er-rip vocals. On “Spellbound” she sings: I told you nice and I’ll tell you again… Some say life is a means to an end…. We’re all looking for answers and I know that you’re hurting/Tell me what you’re searching for. She hits similar themes on “So Impossible” when she challenges, Everything that goes up must come down/No one is immune to what goes round/More lost than found/You’re so impossible. That one is sung atop Tyler Chester’s piano and is like a blend of torch music and Melanie Safka. I have a slight criticism of the record. The first four tracks have the same high octane feel and blend into each other, though I did like Masterson’s guitar swirl on “Circle the Sun,” which gives it a subtle country acid rock feel. The last six–beginning with “The Last Laugh”–mix things up more by taking things down a notch. “There Is a Song” to Sing” is acoustic and folky, “The Silver Line” is dynamic, and “King of the Castle” a backdoor love song. Perhaps it’s best to think of the first half as music to make you move and the second, music to make you muse.  

Railroad Earth has a devoted following among bluegrass fans. If you’re not familiar with them or if you are and wonder what’s next, you can catch three songs from an upcoming project All For the Song. Railroad Earth is a large ensemble–often as many as seven for tours–so they can make some noise, though they are generally more of a jam band that lays down melodies crisscrossed with keys, percussion, and lots of strings (fiddle, mando, banjo, guitar, bass). They’ve released a single from the new album titled “Great Divide” that showcases exactly what I’ve just said. The tune is catchy, instruments flow in and out with ease, and Todd Sheaffer’s vocals are solid and inviting. “Slippin’ Around” has the hard-driving edge of a runaway train song, though if you watch the performance, you’ll be surprised by what inspired it! You also get to hear the title track, which is a nice slow waltz tempo.

It seems like a million years ago when I saw Asleep at the Wheel. I think that founder and front man Ray Benson is the only remaining member from that concert. The band is the pride of Paw Paw, West Virginia–I’ve been there. Don’t ask! –but Asleep has been viewed as a Texas band since it first took the stage back in 1970. Fifty years on, Brown is still doing his thing and doing it well. A Paste Studios concert consists of three songs, including their 1976 hit single “Route 66,” which is actually a cover of a Glenn Frey composition. They do it a bit like a backroad version of Manhattan Transfer. “Miles and Miles of Texas” is evocative of Bob Wills, and “I Guess I’ll Call It a Day Tonight” sounds like something out of a late 1950s variety show. Retro ought to be Benson’s middle name. As you might expect, this is one tight band.

Remember "Teenage Dirtbag?” It was a cult hit for Wheatus in 2000 and you get to hear it again. Much like Asleep at the Wheel, only its lead vocalist and guitarist Brendan Brown remains from the original lineup, but Wheatus now features what it calls its “classic lineup.” (Can an alt.rock band have a ‘classic’ anything? Just asking.) Karlie Bruce and Gabrielle Aimée Sterbenz are back to anchor backing vocals, which is a good thing. You’ll also hear “Break It Don’t Buy It” and “Valentine,” the last two from their 2013 record Valentine.

Agnes Obel is a Danish singer songwriter whose music is a Venn diagram of folk, classical, indie pop, and New Age genres. Her new album Myopia is about epistemological perceptions. How do we know ourselves? How can we trust what we perceive and value? “Broken Sleep” is Enya-like in that it is layered, lush and more atmospheric than melodic. Drone-like instruments stand cheek by jowl with rain-like keys, sonorous strings, and enigmatic lyrics such as: Twisted rope, defies all I know/It holds my dreams. “Island of Doom” is more in that vein; “Won’t You Call Me” is smoky and melancholy. Obel has a lovely voice, though it lacks clarity–possibly by design. Is her music cerebral and arty, or just vague and overly processed? You decide.

I loved an Eileen Carey sampler I ran across last year so much so that I said I was looking forward to her upcoming release Finally. Perhaps I spoke hastily. Finally isn’t a bad record, but I was underwhelmed by Taner Tumkaya’s production work. Carey has a strong voice and her past work is marked by grit and a dollop of country bad girl. I couldn’t help contrast that work with the title track and single from Finally, in which Carey sings a paint-by-the-numbers tune in a higher register more befitting a pop star. “Hearts of Times” lifts the opening riff from “Beast of Burden,” and “Don’t Get Me Wrong” is decidedly retro. The one that works the best for me is “That Was Her, This is Now” which has some country attitude, though it could use some lyrical editing to make it tougher. From what I gather, Carey’s career is on the uptick, but from where I sit, she’s taken a step backward artistically.

Rob Weir