For all I know, Dennis Jay could be the offspring of television music writers in El Lay, so much does he reflect Gillian Welch’s talent for channeling antique voices from the lost history of American music. Jay, though, has picked up that preter-retro signal just-post-Appalachia, somewhere in the bandwidth of Jimmie Rodgers and Tex Ritter. He might even have made a killing as a Nashville songwriter in the ’40s.
Artfully written in straightforward rhymes, his lyrics are loaded with simple emotions arising from honky-tonks and other blue-collar settings, but common to conflicted lovers and losers everywhere. His southern-accented vocals have a quavery, occasionally even yodely, naif quality, but his guitar playing is pretty and assured around traditional country and western themes.
Several tunes feature a border influence reminiscent of the ’50s pop-culture fad. Rhumba tempos click with castanets; lyrics recall mission bells and blossoms falling on lying lips. A standout track is “Tupelo Flash”, which, while apparently named for Peter Fonda’s forgettable character in Ulee’s Gold, owes, and pays, a considerable debt to early Elvis Presley. It’s a song for driving your Olds 98 on a two-lane road through West Texas heading for New Mexico.
But the disc’s high point is the Bakersfield-flavored sing-along “Lonesome By Any Other Name”: “Dancin’ round each other/Trying to shift the blame/ Call it ‘we need time apart’/It’s lonesome by any other name.” This music is so charming and well played; you’ll find it listenable by any other name.
