“Lie to Me,” a soldier’s entreaty, evokes some impressive imagery and emotion, as he frets, “You say, I don’t laugh/Not like I used to, you say/Where’s that boy/A year ago I said goodbye to,” but when the burning resentment of the verse rolls into a hopeful desperation, it feels like a punch pulled. How can the same guy who spits, “When you were shooting down tequila/I was lining up the dead in rows,” then beg, “lie to me/Give one more peaceful night to me/Let your morning kisses lie to me?” I think the Dixie Chicks, whose sound the fiddler here apes, would have turned the knife.
But I’m quibbling with semantics and minor points. “Still on My Mind” drips with pedal steel and Farren’s introductory falsetto, the country version of Tony McNaboe. “Red Jacket” is quick and punchy, dobro riffs running in and out of the harmonica. “Believe” features a piano pretty enough to hang on the wall. These are strong, polished, heart-felt songs, sung and played from the soles of Farren’s shoes.
He’s always playing to the room, which is unsurprising considering his steady solo work. To survive in that environment, you’ve got to earn people’s attention by figuring out what they want to hear, probing for an opening as the crowd ripens. The bluesy “I’m Coming Home,” swaying with organ and harmonica, has a particularly boozy allure that indicates Farren is the type of entertainer who gets rapidly more appealing as your buzz increases (and that’s a compliment).
I don’t think you need to get plastered to make this disc enjoyable, but a couple glasses of wine wouldn’t hurt. The album gives off a warm, fuzzy glow, anyway. Why fight it?
On the Web
Joe Farren: www.joefarren.com
Email the author
Sam Pfeifle: sam_pfeifle@yahoo.com
