By Benjamin Leatherman
By Glenn BurnSilver
By Glenn BurnSilver
By Troy Farah
By Roger Calamaio
By Mark Deming
By Glenn BurnSilver
By Brian Palmer
You'll have to forgive Backsliders front man Chip Robinson if he sounds a bit tired and confused. It's not just because Robinson is phoning from a truck stop outside Provo, Utah, in the middle of a grueling, two-day drive from Texas to Oregon. The gravel-voiced singer has spent much of the last year in a kind of haze. In less than two years, Robinson has seen his band release a critical and commercially successful debut, Throwin' Rocks at the Moon, and complete a follow-up, only to have the group implode amid creative (as well as some reported personal) differences. While the group's label shelved the record for close to a year, Robinson struggled with whether to continue, finally putting the pieces back together to re-form the band, release the disc and tour behind it. That kind of turmoil is enough to put anyone in a fog.
Most of Robinson's songs are set somewhere along the dirt roads and trailer parks of North Carolina, yet the stories could happen anywhere. It's an element in his writing that's reminiscent of early Bruce Springsteen. Both men's songs are evocative of a particular time and place, but still manage to contain an uncommon universality.
Moreover, Robinson's work isn't encumbered by the post-punk irony that's featured prominently in so much of what's classified as alternative country music. Much like the characters in his songs, Robinson hasn't been able to afford the luxury of irony; it carries too steep a price when you're just struggling to keep things together.
In April 1998, Robinson returned to his Raleigh, North Carolina, home after several weeks in New York, where he was busy mixing the Backsliders' sophomore effort with producer Eric "Roscoe" Ambel. He found that the group, which had been together in one form or another for seven years, had staged a mass defection. With co-founder Steve Howell's decision to split from the band, the rest of the group followed suit, leaving Robinson as the lone survivor in the unlikely scenario.
With a new record completed and ready to be released, the band's dissolution was especially hard for Robinson to take, leaving him confused and uncertain about the future. "I could have rolled over on this record probably and let the label do whatever and said, "The hell with it.' And I probably thought about doing that for about five minutes. I decided that it just wasn't what I wanted to do."
Instead, Robinson went to his label, North Carolina-based Mammoth, and asked executives what he needed to do to get the record out. "Basically I had to start all over, get a new band, management and a booking agent," recalls Robinson. "I went out and did a bunch of solo dates last summer, kept in touch with Roscoe, and he helped me put together a band from guys down around Raleigh."
When the band's sophomore effort, Southern Lines, was finally released this past spring, it was met with the same critical success as the band's debut. Observers were quick to point out some major overall differences. Although the set retains one Howell composition and several of his co-writes, Southern Lines is clearly Robinson's baby. It has a distinctively harder edge than its predecessor. The album features less of Howell's sprite Bakersfield-influenced numbers, and more urgent rockers and sparse acoustic ruminations.
Much of the album's decidedly rock-oriented feel comes from Ambel, a former member of Joan Jett's Blackhearts and a much-sought-after alt-country producer whose credits include the Bottle Rockets and Go to Blazes. "We had talked to Roscoe about doing the Throwin' Rocks record before we talked to [the band's first producer] Pete Anderson, actually. We were big fans of a lot of the stuff he had worked on," recalls Robinson. "But then Pete called and we went with him on the first one. This time around the label kind of wanted to try a different producer, so Roscoe was obviously the guy."
While Ambel's production manages to leave the band's rougher edges intact (although the album's best track, "Abe Lincoln," features production work from former R.E.M. producer Don Dixon), Robinson's songs are the backbone of the record.
"Some of them were written just a month or so before we went and recorded, some of them have been around for a while," notes Robinson. In fact, the album is patched together with songs from a number of different periods in Robinson's career. "The Lonely One" appeared on a Backsliders single from the early '90s, while others have been in Robinson's catalogue since before the group even formed. Despite that, the record is a cohesive and often wrenching collection of first-person narratives that fit within a traditional country scope but are colored by a modern darkness.
During the Backsliders' previous incarnation, the group's alcohol-filled country romps and faithful shuffles tended to obscure the fact that Robinson is an uncommonly gifted songwriter. His ability to seamlessly change emotional gears is especially prevalent on the new album.