Dwight Yoakam – A Long Way Home / Various Artists – Will Sing For Food: The Songs Of Dwight Yoakam

Quick — name three Dwight Yoakam songs.

Not as easy as you’d think, is it? Nothing against the man’s songwriting abilities, but let’s face facts here: “Songwriting” is not the first word that leaps to mind when one ponders the components of the Dwight Yoakam Vibe. Instead, his appeal is grounded in an attitude that seemed genuinely revolutionary when he first emerged in the mid-’80s — that traditional country was something worth preserving. And of course, there’s also the curling lip, twitching hips and that switchblade sneer of a voice that can make even a romantic declaration sound vaguely threatening.

So it’s curious indeed that the latest two albums to emerge from Planet Dwight play up Yoakam as songwriter. Will Sing For Food is a tribute record in which 14 different acts take a crack at Yoakam’s catalog, with proceeds earmarked for charities serving the homeless. And A Long Way Home is, for the first time ever, a Yoakam album in which he himself wrote every song solo, with no co-writers.

Will Sing For Food is fine as far as it goes, which just flat isn’t far enough. Most of the usual suspects are present and accounted for, including the Backsliders, whose 1997 debut album was produced by Yoakam guitarist Pete Anderson, and a number of acts from Anderson’s Little Dog Records stable (Scott Joss, Lonesome Strangers, Jim Matt). Pete Droge dirties up “1,000 Miles” effectively enough, and Gillian Welch gives an appropriately stark reading to “Miner’s Prayer”.

But half the fun of these tribute records lies in the unexpected curveballs they offer, and Will Sing For Food plays everything straight down the middle. Imagine Yoakam’s mid-’80s rival Steve Earle doing, say, “What I Don’t Know”; now that would’ve been an interesting piece of detente to hear (not that there’s anything wrong with Bonnie Bramlett-Sheridan’s soulful take of that song). No doubt, the compilers were at the mercy of whoever was willing to get involved. The result is a good album, not a great one; a worthy purchase, especially given the cause, but far short of revelatory.

As for A Long Way Home, it’s Yoakam’s first real record in going on three years, during which time he’s done more interesting work onscreen (Sling Blade, The Newton Boys) than on record. Yoakam’s albums have grown increasingly erratic since he turned 40, with water-treading projects such as a Christmas album and last year’s ghastly Under The Covers — a low point we can only hope he’ll never equal.

Yoakam at least sounds like he’s trying again on A Long Way Home, the least self-consciously “country” album he’s ever made. It harks back to the wide-ranging albums that interpretive singers used to make 25-30 years ago, except Yoakam actually wrote all these tracks himself. The songs brood more than they bluster, although Yoakam retains enough of that old edge to make the occasional threat (as on “The Curse”).

Mostly, A Long Way Home represents his Roy Orbison move. Big, grand, sweeping, operatic and heart-on-the-sleeve emotive — with strings and vibraphone, even! — the material casts Yoakam as heir to Orbison’s King of Pain throne.

The half-dozen or so tracks most evocative of Orbison represent the core of the album; the others are more of a mixed bag. “I Wouldn’t Put It Past Me” and the album-closing Elvis tribute “Maybe You Like It, Maybe You Don’t” both provide further evidence that playfulness does not come naturally to Yoakam (although Anderson’s guitar almost saves both songs anyway). And the Appalachian folk homage “Traveler’s Lantern” comes off as a shade too self-conscious. On the up side, the title track works a bouncy Charlie Rich-type piano riff to good effect, and Yoakam displays some writerly flair for verb/noun puns involving the word “fool” on the album-opening “Same Fool”.

Really, though, the Orbison stuff is the main event. “Listen” has a modified “Pretty Woman” backbeat that just sweeps you away. The string arrangements stop a shade short of overdone on “These Arms” and “I’ll Just Take These.” And “Yet To Succeed” is one of the most remarkable things Yoakam has ever put down on tape. Trading in his tight jeans for a formal tux, Yoakam takes his horse opera straight to the Tiki lounge, singing in the throatiest part of his vocal register. Each line ascends as he testifies:

I’ll be fine
In time
But right now
I’m just trying
To forget you
And clearly I have yet to
Suceeeeeeeeed…

Cheesy? You bet. But it’s a stylishly rendered fondue, not a moldy sandwich.