Country rockers bring forth Missouri sound

Country rockers bring forth Missouri sound

By Michael Tatum

Daily Bruin Senior Staff

"Don’t surprised if you come to our show and there’s only 20
people," jokes Brian Henneman, the leader of the Missouri band the
Bottle Rockets.

"Not that we mind," he continues with a laugh, "we’ve gotten
pretty good rockin’ for 20 people."

The Bottle Rockets, playing tomorrow night at the Alligator
Lounge, are one of those well-kept secrets that deserves to play to
more than 20 people a night.

With guitar playing reminiscent of Lynrd Skynrd, and songwriting
occasionally worthy of John Prine and Dave Alvin (all of whom
Henneman claims as influences), these Missourians have the
potential be the best country-tinged, roots rock band to emerge in
years.

The band rose from the ashes of Chicken Truck, a blues-punk band
Henneman led in the late ’80s. If you don’t remember them, there’s
a good reason ­ "We never got out of St. Louis," Henneman
explains.

When Chicken Truck finally split up, Henneman finally got a
chance to see America, touring with his buddies in Uncle Tupelo as
a guitar tech and occasional second guitarist.

"I had been dying to be on the road," Henneman recalls fondly.
"I had the time of my life for about two years. Sometimes they let
me sing one of the encores. But toward the end of the third year I
found myself wanting to do it again, front my own band.

"Basically," Henneman chortles with characteristic glee, "I went
right back down to the bottom of the barrel."

Well, not quite. Thanks to his connections in Uncle Tupelo,
Henneman’s new band ­ the Bottle Rockets, formed with
ex-Chicken Truck members Tom Parr (guitar) and Mark Ortmann
(drums), and newcomer Tom Ray on bass ­ had no problem landing
a contract on Minneapolis indie East Side Digital. The Brooklyn
Side, released late last year, is their second effort for the
label.

For all of its strengths ­ crisp production, ace guitar
playing, and empathetic vocals by Henneman ­ the album isn’t
perfect. Love songs aren’t this band’s strong suit; particularly on
the second half, a few tracks collapse on their own clichés,
and the vocal and instrumental performances of band members, who
sound as if they’re piss drunk, don’t help.

But when the band takes a look at the world around them,
cataloging the cast of characters in their hometown, they’re in
their element: the frustrated auto mechanic who escapes his wife,
his kids and his job by immersing himself in Sunday football; the
schlub who blows $1,000 on a piece-of-shit car; the white, middle
class liberal hypocrites who feel justified using the word
"nigger," or the cop who gets his kicks doling out speeding
tickets.

"I write what I know," Henneman with his typical self-effacing
manner, "I’m not smart smart enough to do it any other way. My only
worry is, how many songs about small towns can you write? How soon
until you start repeating the same old bullshit?

"The future is uncertain," he chuckles, name-checking the Doors,
"and the end is always near."

So despite Henneman’s laconic wit and even occasional wordplay
(is his excuse to his girlfriend in "Gravity Fails," "Maybe it was
something in my genes" or "jeans?") he harbors a healthy skepticism
about some of today’s less direct lyricists.

"Everything sounds important when you have no idea what the
singer’s talking about," he says. "I mean how many songs on the
first few R.E.M. albums were like that? It’s kind of cool in a way,
but it’s not something I feel like doing."

But justified cynicism aside, Henneman is by no means alienated
from contemporary music, though he sheepishly admits he’s a little
behind the times ("I still consider the Replacements a ‘new band’,"
he confesses). He certainly feels a greater kinship toward bands
like the Jayhawks than today’s country artists ­ whatever you
do, don’t mention Garth Brooks to him.

"Especially him," Henneman groans. "That guy is such a marketing
dream. He’s perfectly programmed, so universal. Guys like him
because they can look at him and say ‘Hey, that could be me.’ That
way, when their girlfriends buy his records, you don’t have a lot
of ‘Elvis envy’ going on."

A little harsh, but that kind of purism fuels the Bottle
Rockets’ fire. In a music business where an artist’s "honesty" and
"straightforwardness" are usually constructs of a publicist’s
creativity, the Bottle Rockets cut the pretension, say their piece
and have a good time.

But just one more thing ­ how do they plan to increase
patronage at their gigs?

"I don’t know," cracks Henneman. "Maybe I’ll light myself on
fire!"

CONCERT: The Bottle Rockets, Saturday night at the Alligator
Lounge. TIX: $10.