|
"There is a lot of religious content in our songs," Catherine Ann Irwin says from her Kentucky home, "but it's just not very nice." Along with musical partner and fellow native Kentuckian Janet Beveridge Bean, Irwin has been playing plain-folk country tales--covers and originals--for nearly 15 years. Growing up, both women were surrounded by bluegrass, country and more. "My father listened to a lot of Irish folk, so I grew up hearing [that], but country always really appealed to me. It was the most fun kind of music to sing--which is my favorite part," Irwin says. At the core of Freakwater's sound is the vocal interplay of Irwin, who sings in a bold, go-for-it gargle, and Bean, a sturdy soprano. They're also accomplished guitarists, as evidenced on Freakwater's first four albums. For its fifth, the recently released Springtime (Thrill Jockey), Irwin, Bean and bassist Dave Gay tapped ex-Wilco member Max Johnston, who joins in on fiddle, mandolin, banjo, dobro and seemingly any other stringed instrument that was laying around in the Chicago studio during the recording. With Johnston's help, the band attains one of the closest approximations to the American music of the early 20th century that exists in the contemporary landscape. Of course, with commercial country radio tipping its cowboy hat solely to the slicker fare coming out of the mouths of Garth Brooks and Shania Twain, Freakwater has little hope of singing over the airwaves on a cold and lonely night, which is really the way its music should be heard. Irwin says the style of her more financially successful peers is foreign to her. "I saw Coal Miner's Daughter, when they were driving around the country taking their record to all the stations, but I don't know what kind of radio station would play our record," Irwin says. "Most of the country stations are Top-10 kind of country, and we couldn't play those songs if we wanted to. We don't know how. I guess they have machines and technology that we are not hooked into." It seems that Freakwater's chances of escaping its obscurity rest in the burgeoning if not quite lucrative alt-country movement heralded by the magazine No Depression and clubgoers in Austin, Chicago, Portland and other cities embracing the cause. Irwin, sounding pessimistic, says it's just another cycle in an unproductive trend. "I remember like 10 years ago, everybody saying this is going to be great for us, with the resurgence of interest in country music," she says. "This has happened a couple of times since we've been making records, but it hasn't had any effect on us at all." So Freakwater must take its gritty narratives and heartbreaking music on the road, playing the modern-day version of juke joints--rock clubs. Still, Irwin doesn't despair. Perhaps someday the folks behind Nashville's hallowed Grand Ol' Opry will realize the error of their ways and invite Freakwater? "Every girl has her dreams," she says, "but they never call."
|
|
