<< Back 5/15/02 Keel, Burch combination proves a good fit By Hunter Pope Someone might indict me for being a little biased towards one Larry Keel. It’s been a little less than two weeks ago that I used every favorable adjective in the dictionary and thesaurus to etch a mini biography on the guitarist’s descent on Sylva’s Greening of the Mountains. Larry is a music writer’s dream. His electrical picking summons words that can sledgehammer any writer’s block. So when Larry and Jenny Keel sent me their new album, “Larry Keel Curtis Burch and the Experience,” I decided I would sit on it. There were a plethora of other musicians out there who needed the ink. Then the block set in like infinite 5 o’clock traffic. The words were there, but they came out in jutty pronouns and sentences with more fractures than a hockey season. My muse had gone on vacation. It never occurred to it to leave me a courtesy note, nor did it leave me with a temp. I searched for my inconsiderate partner by writing in the woods, on park benches with traffic honking for constant attention, on my bed, on my couch, inside my car, in front of my droning computer, in front of my cat, and even in a noisy bar where my best adjective was “barley-esque.” Disheartened, I enclosed myself in my disheveled office and found Larry’s new disc under a pile of orphaned discs. I put it in simply to quell the demons that blasphemed my writing mind with phrases like “a stupendous album” and “this music is rip-roaring fun.” The confounded muse had been there all along, hanging out with Larry, Jenny, and their friends, Curtis Burch, Jason Krekel, Billy Constable, Woody Wood, and Mark Schmick. I forgot to scold because the muse filled my head with a cavalcade of words. Yes, I was writing about Larry Keel again, but the album also showcased all these other great musicians who deserved some print (a cheap way out, but hey, I’m tossing all the blame on my old pal, mr. and, sometimes, ms. muse). Words? How about “original,” “inspirational,” “fiery,” “intense,” “elegant,” “amusing,” and “ethereal.” Phrases? How about “not worthy of words” and “there’s more intention here than a midnight jam at MerleFest.” Damn, that felt good. Not only do I get to praise the musicians that were along for Larry’s roller coaster, but I also get to commend the musicians that historically manicured Larry’s dexterous fingers. Covers of John Hartford, the Every Brothers, flat-pickin’ dobro man Tut Taylor, and local strumming sage A.L. Wood are all given the noble treatment by Larry and company. Dobro man Curtis Burch is the other super nova here. One of the original founders of the upstart New Grass Revival, Curtis has frequently toured with Larry, creating a twining force that pulverizes the normal expectations of a bluegrass event. His reward? His name slapped up on the marquee alongside Larry’s on the new album. Does he deserve it? My ears and my heart collectively say, “@@#$%$^^&*%#&^^$#W#$$^*&^#@ Yes!!!” Curtis’ Dobro opens this bluegrass/jazz/folk/unspecified affair with the Dillard and Clark cover, “In the Plan.” Burch’s gentle voice is like a wine compliment to Keel’s scratchy wailings. The song is gentle but full of queries — “These things that I see/These things that are me/Tell me what/Tell me where do I fit in the plan?” Appropriately placed, the song asks about the great gig of life. It’s a prologue for the journey that the Experience is getting ready to take us on for the next 40-plus minutes. My only complaint is that the song’s tranquil nature does not prepare us for the tempest that lies in wait. The flurry begins like a starting gun on the next offering, A.L. Wood’s “Carolina Sunshine.” A.L.’s son, Woody, takes the lead vocal on this one, and I’m sure Pop couldn’t have been prouder. Woody is somewhat of a utility guy, performing at times with the Blue Rags, or the Sufi Brothers (Jason Krekel’s outfit), or David Vai’s Corn Tornado. Woody Wood has a guitar gift that perhaps only Larry can surpass, but it’s his banjo and vocal work that luminates here. Wood has one of those sweltering honky-tonk voices that go like a dart into the soul. Krekel also flexes a little muscle on “Sunshine,” popping out some mean mandolin chops. And I haven’t even gotten to Larry yet. Just to assure everyone that he’s lurking near, Keel takes the lead on the Every Brother’s jump starter, “Never Get On A Train Again.” Can a man make his guitar sound like train? Larry actually channels a steam engine on this number, as him and Jenny declare, “I don’t’ think I’ll ever go this way again/ I’ll be content with the pictures in my mind ... When the diesel calls my name, I’ll say Woo-Hoo, I’m on my way home again.” Burch tamps down the rails on this number before allowing Billy Constable (The Dillards and Hypnotic Clambake) some leeway with his stealthy banjo. One of my favorite John Hartford ditties is the “First Girl I Ever Loved,” and I’ve always pined for some bluegrass deity to cover it (since I never got to experience the great Hartford himself). “Girl” is tailor-made for Keel, and he gives it the beauty in the same way that the original did on Hartford’s “Aereo-Plain.” Any fan of Hartford will have a hard time finding any cracks or creases in Keel’s re-creation. The two are close in spirit. Neither met a bluegrass mold they could fit into, each bounding off to create their own identity. That’s not to say Larry is the next John Hartford. Larry Keel is Larry Keel. It’s the individuality that makes them alike. It’s also good to hear Jenny take a few vocal leads on “Undecided” (arranged by Shavers and Stover) and “Copper Kettle” (based on the arrangement by the Country Gentlemen), as well as hearing old member Jason Krekel take singing command on the other John Hartford cover, “On the Road.” Both are intensely gifted on their instruments, and it’s a pleasure to listen to their vocals take a turn in the mic. Just when you sit back to relish in the covers, Larry comes by to wallop you with his originals. Keel has a sound all his own and, brother, he’ll make you shiver all over. The original, “The Door,” is just Larry and Jenny; and by the end of this three-minute treat, you’re glad for the minimalist approach. If this is your first experience with Larry’s naked guitar, prepare for a jolt. With a voice that recalls Captain Ahab, Larry moves up and down the fret like firemen on a greased pole. And the lyrics are there for hours of interpretation. Larry’s style is not the normal straight-ahead forays that usually accompany bluegrass (although I’ve always stated that Larry defied any label. He just seems to show up at a lot of bluegrass events). “The Door” is yet another cerebral teaser — “The story seems a little lean from his side or the other/’places not yet gone, but not forgotten ... and the spiral central rung forever growing young/ Flying high the painted sky a million miles/What was I thinking?/Dotted line streaked my mind/The starry trail/Why are you blinking?/45 people laughing loud and you’re feeling hope and you’re so ... proud.” Other originals include the appropriately titled “Kite Song” (where Larry shows his proclivity on the mandolin), “Three Things” and the album closer, “Smile.” The finale is the guitarist all on his lonesome, and it reminds everyone what a gift Larry Keel is to the music universe. The spotlight is his tender strings flit about as Larry reminds all of us — “So rest after your day well done/Sharp your wits for tomorrows’ fun/How soon the morning comes, the rising star.” “Smile” is a great bookend, bidding the day a positive farewell, and a salute for the momentous things to come. Purchase this album only if you’re ready to follow Larry, Jenny, Curtis — and whomever else they have in tow — to the ends of the earth. And if you see my muse, tell it to come home. There’s a parched writer in need of some inspiration. That is, until the Larry Keel Experience can put out an album a week. (Hunter Pope writes about music, movies, and whatever else strikes his fancy. He can be reached at w.h.pope@worldnet.att.net)