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Revenge!

by

Robbie Fulks

 
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Revenge!
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Avg: 4.0 (54 ratings)

The alt-country prankster that just wants to be left alone.

  • We Say...

    Over two decades in the music biz, Robbie Fulks has amassed a catalogue of great songs, proven himself a master of styles ranging from honky-tonk to countrypolitan to straight-ahead pop songcraft and turned out one great album after another. But still he flies under the radar, nowhere near as well-known as fellow rootsy singer-songwriters like Rhett Miller or Ryan Adams. I'm afraid the reason for that is disturbingly simple: Robbie Fulks has one wicked sense of humor. Like fellow madcap maestros Spike Jones, Frank Zappa and Ween, Fulks' knack for a razor-sharp putdown and an unflattering character sketch makes it all too easy to pigeonhole him as someone "who doesn't take it seriously." Revenge, Fulk's new double-disc live album, should finally put a rest to such short-sighted estimations. It's also really funny.

    Recorded with a crack backing band in Champaign, Illinois, in September 2006, the album's first disc is a rowdy, raucous affair that swings between supercharged Buck Owens stomps ("Cigarette State," "You Shouldn't Have") and gorgeous barroom weepers ("You Don't Mean It," "The Buck Stops Here") before closing with a killer run-through of the hard rockin' shoulda-been-a-hit, "Let's Kill Saturday Night." It's a stone sober testament to the musical muscle lurking beneath Fulks' arched eyebrows.

    Disc two, recorded in Fulks' sweet home Chicago in November of the same year, sets aside the electric guitars and crashing drums for mandolins, acoustics and accordions. But its sparse setting might be an even better showcase for Fulks' gifts. Tracks like "I Wanna Be Mama'd" and "I Like Being Left Alone" fit some comically misanthropic zingers into gorgeous, folky frames, while "That's a Good Enough Reason" and "President Garfield's Hornpipe/Suza" are crisply beautiful bluegrass stompers. Fulks even throws in a solo cover of Cher's "Believe" that strips away the electro-pop gloss to reveal a bittersweet gem of a song.

    Frankly, the 43-year-old Fulks is probably too far into his career to all of a sudden gain the attention he deserves, but the truth is, he's never made an album more deserving of widespread acclaim than Revenge. And did I mention it's also really funny?

  • They Say...

    On the opening cut of Robbie Fulks' album Revenge, Fulks and his band are interrupted while singing about the dubious joys of life on tour by a phone call from one of the head honchos at Yep Roc Records, who informs Fulks that the label wants a new record, but it has to be delivered fast and cheap since his previous effort didn't move that many units. All of which serves as a curious but entertaining set-up for this double-disc live album, divided into a "Standing" set with a full electric band and a "Sitting" acoustic set featuring minimal accompaniment. Exactly who Robbie Fulks is wreaking vengeance upon (beyond the larger music-buying public who have failed to make him wealthy and famous) is never made clear, but this album is an accurate re-creation of the "Live Robbie Fulks Experience" for the fans at home. Fulks and his band are in superb form on disc one, especially guitarist Grant Tye and drummer Gerald Dowd, sounding tight and sympathetic as they swing from the weepy "The Buck Starts Here" to the swinging "Cigarette State" and closing out with the high-test rock & roll of "Let's Kill Saturday Night." The acoustic disc is no less accomplished, if a bit less user friendly, as it features both a Cher cover ("Believe") and an enthusiastic celebration of misanthropy ("I Like Being Left Alone"), though Fulks' duet with Kelly Hogan on the Carter Family's "Away out on the Old Saint Sabbath" is beautiful stuff. On a good night, Fulks is one of the most exciting and entertaining singer/songwriters to emerge from the alt country scene with a band to match, and Revenge documents two very good shows with Fulks and his compatriots firing on all cylinders, even if his curiously smug sense of humor intrudes upon the proceedings every once in a while.

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