Various Artists – Out of the Gate Again Sixteen More from the Grain Belt

It’s been years since I’ve listened to Out of the Gate, a basement-quality compilation tape of rock ‘n’ tonk experiments by St. Louis area bands released in 1990. Some existed long enough to spill more than a tab’s worth of beer in the cellar at Cicero’s, the center of the local scene; other voices, like Rene Spencer, disappeared too soon. That tape gave folks a taste of St. Louis air when Uncle Tupelo and the Bottle Rockets began to find direction.

For intermingling country, folk, punk and R&B, St. Louis is still a good city: It yearns for the past and preserves its manifold blues history but can’t escape its urban, punk nowhereness. Out of the Gate Again is that original tape’s distant, more mature but no less spirited cousin — 16 dyed-in-the-roots pleasures, all originals, all profits going to KDHX community radio.

First off, there’s no such thing as a St. Louis sound. This compilation is eclectic, unafraid to reveal influences without getting trampled, and it plays like a flow chart of sources for what’s most recently called y’allternative country. Sixties honky-tonk and Neil Young may be the strongest muses, but there’s more.

Junkbox opens the disc with a slap-slash reworking of the Sam Phillips sound; it’s catchy, despite Richard Newman’s Elvistrionics (Cheryl Striker’s harmonies nearly save him). New Patrons of Husbandry and Cheyenne Social Club evoke Desire-era Dylan, while Kamikaze Cowboy, thanks to the devilish tele of John Horton (no, not that John Horton), conjures classic Johnny Horton (yes, that Johnny Horton). The Eldon Boons churn a musty, gutsy Sun sound, while Caution Horse is Crazy Horse with harmony. Free Dirt revs up the Long Ryders, and HighTone recording artists Wagon offer a sweet, slumbering “Slack Key Blues”, like Haggard’s Strangers on morphine. Alas, bluegrass is completely ignored; not a banjo (and only one mandolin) to be heard, as though old-time music wasn’t deep in Missouri roots.

The most refreshing voices belong to the women: Cheryl Striker, Jennifer Stuckenschnieder, and Connie Fairchild all sing like soul-wounded seraphs. The tracks that cut deepest overall depart from any formulas, be they jangle and crunch, or lovesick cliches. The see-’em-to-believe-’em Highway Matrons contribute “Cold Ice Water”, a hysterical live reworking of “Stray Cat Strut”, spotlighting Fred Friction’s spoons and voice — like Brian Henneman on a Blue Ribbon buzz. The deceptively named Three Fried Men convert a North American Indian song into a winsome duet with gorgeous chimelike pedal steel from Jim McCarthy.

Lyrically, the songs rarely transcend evocative cleverness. Themes of drinking, losing, crying and lying abound, as if the songwriters lived on a C&W set and spent all their time in the saloon. The music is stripped of social inequities and fears, and squeezed into storyless but infectious forms. It’s as though the guiding spirits, from Cash to Williams to ’70s Stones, hadn’t always been preoccupied with politics. Still, it hardly matters, with so many crafty tunes and guitar hooks, or gems-flawed-just-right like Sourpatch’s “All Things Considered”, which, through Adam Reichman’s vulnerable vocal and loping melody, converts desire into wry wisdom.

There’s plenty affection and respect for country traditions here without falling into the simpering irony that plagues many twang neophytes. (And it serves as the ideal preview for upcoming releases by Sourpatch, New Patrons of Husbandry, Grandpa’s Ghost, Kamikaze Cowboy, Three Fried Men, One Fell Swoop, and Caution Horse, the latter under the tutelage of Jeff Tweedy.) There’s even a feeling of family here, just dysfunctional enough to be interesting, with musicians sharing their talents from one band to another.

In the end, Out of the Gate Again measures up to other regional compilations such as Bloodshot’s For a Life of Sin or A Town South of Bakersfield. Rather than just dabbling, the bands here expand and explore the musical roots of the heartland.