The Muses
Penny E.P. (Walking)
by Marc Hirsh
The Muses
Penny E.P. (Walking)
by Marc Hirsh
originally published in Space City Rock, Fall 1999
I've been trying to determine the difference between "country" and "alternative country," and I've decided that it's ultimately as vague a distinction as between "alternative" and "mainstream" (a shocking discovery, I realize). The argument of "I know it when I hear it" doesn't cut it anymore; we need quantifiable attributes, dammit, or some of us are going to start assuming that all those rock journalists who've been bandying about terms like "No Depression" and (my favorite) "y'allternative" ever since Uncle Tupelo split up (funny how the movement didn't take off until its figureheads had split up) don't know what the hell they're talking about.
Which puts the Muses in an interesting spot, jockeying for position in a race that doesn't know what the qualifiers are. Their promotion pegs them as alt-country, but all I can figure that this means is that: 1) they're an actual band instead of a solo artist performing someone else's songs with a token acoustic guitar while a backup group does the real work, 2) their sound is closer to the warm airiness of indie rock than the sterile precision of the interchangeable studio work coming out of Nashville (and Los Angeles, for God's sake) nowadays and 3) they throw in an unlisted track at the end (Garth would never stoop so low). Point well taken, but any band who occasionally echoes the Allman Brothers and namechecks easy-listening fave Michael Franks in one song (even if it's not about the Michael Franks) is going to have a hard time proving their "alternativity," no matter how ironic they think they're being (and they don't, by the way).
Of course, the Muses themselves don't care one lick about marketing or labels and just play the damn music that they want to play. With production that makes it sound like it was recorded on a good day on the second stage of a state fair country music festival, Penny's 6 tracks are filled with awkward lyricism, flat singing (though the harmonies are right on the money), loose playing and generally good intentions. I chalk it up to being a band of four guys who don't stand around and say, "Hey, we're playing country!," they just tune up and go.
Ultimately, it's the right thing to do, even if the songs aren't going to change the landscape any and, in fact, tend to go nowhere. The strongest cut, "Hit The Hill," kicks things off right and leaves the rest to flounder a bit in its wake. The Muses may fail on a few levels ("Daddy's Gone" is a particularly unimpressive but apparently obligatory gun song), but they do it their way, which takes the bite out a bit. And even though it never quite falls together, I keep on listening, hoping that maybe this time it'll happen. So even if they'd rather open up for Fastball than Alan Jackson, I'm giving the Muses a break. They've got the right (i.e., no) attitude, which will keep them far from radio but might, with any luck, get them to start making much better records real soon.