The other song finally came together about a week later — “Highway Cross”, the final song on the album and the thematic bookend to “Rather Not Know”. A stately acoustic waltz, “Highway Cross” mourns the young man who died in the collision with Roby’s father, from the perspective of the dead man’s mother: “Why they always speak of heaven, like it causes me no grief?”
“Rather Not Know” is just as gut-wrenching, despite a bouncy keyboard hook. The narrator in this song is another mother, Roby’s, grief-stricken over her husband’s death: “Tell myself that every day people die/And leave lonely husbands and wives/Well tell it to the hole in my heart.”
“The first and last song are both tied in with loss,” Roby says. “My mom is the most faithful, religious person I know, and ‘Rather Not Know’ is about how no matter how religious you are, loss still hurts. You can talk yourself out of it, but tell that to the hole in your heart. That came out of C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed, which is about him losing his wife, and it’s very angry and painful. People say, ‘Oh, he’s in heaven now, everything’s fine.’ Well, it still hurts like hell. No matter how much you know, it does not make you miss them any less.”
Recording took about a week (spread out over a month) at former Backslider Rob Farris’ home studio in Raleigh. Also making major contributions were Two Dollar Pistols guitarist Scott McCall, Roby’s old 6 String Drag bandmate Ray Duffey (the funkiest drummer in the alt.country universe), Countdown Quartet bassist Steve Grothmann, and former Backsliders Roger Gupton and Steve Howell.
Rather Not Know was one of a trio of records made at Farris’ studio at about the same time. Roby and Farris also co-produced singer-songwriter Anthony Neff’s Generation X-istential Blues, with contributions from many of the same players. The third record was Countdown Quartet’s Sadlack’s Stomp, a swamp-funk romp named in honor of the legendary Raleigh haunt that serves as a sandwich shop, beer joint and back-porch live-music haven.
“We did Anthony’s record first — started it before my dad died, then finished it afterward — then started mine; then Countdown Quartet did theirs, and we went back to finish mine,” Roby says. “I think it helped, the way it worked. I felt obligated to help Anthony finish his record, which made me realize I actually like doing this.
“We did it quick, live, almost no overdubs. Which was the only way the songs on this record would’ve worked, I think, just all of us in a room together.”
Between the raw tones of Roby’s plainspoken voice and the arrangements’ emphasis on feel over polish, there’s a great deal of immediacy to the album. Farris has recorded or mixed everything from rock bands to the North Carolina Symphony; for Rather Not Know, his method was to get all the players in the same room and just let it bleed.
“Most producers try to deaden a studio down — isolate everything, slice it all up,” says Farris. “Then when they mix, they wind up having to put reverb on everything to get it all back in the room. So we just went straight to the chase and embraced the bleed.”
Which leads, quite naturally, to the question of live performances. Roby has returned to the stage in the Raleigh area in recent months, though he has yet to tour behind Rather Not Know. Nothing is definite yet, but Duffey (who moved to Nebraska last year) is slated to return as Roby’s drummer. Also tentatively penciled in is bassist Rob Keller, Roby’s harmony-singing partner in 6 String Drag. If it comes together, it will be the closest thing to a 6 String Drag reunion likely to be had.
“Rob and I never had a problem,” Roby says of 6 String Drag’s 1998 breakup. “It was just time and situations. We had different directions with our families, then he moved away. But now he wants to go out and play a little. Not go nuts, but play some.
“Same here. I’m gonna tour some, but not go nuts. My wife and I both finally realized, what else am I gonna do? Now I would like to get away from being ‘critically acclaimed,’ because those are just two other words for, ‘You want fries with that?’ But people really seem to have taken to this record.”
ND contributing editor David Menconi cannot tell a lie: He is in fact the dumbass who yelled for “Summer Of ’69” during the show described at the beginning of this story.
