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John Stewart
Havana
Appleseed Recordings APR CD 1070
By Marianne Ebertowski
 It
was 1969 when John Stewart recorded his first solo album, the
timeless California Bloodlines. Even then he was hardly
a newcomer to the music world.The handsome dark-haired folksinger
from San Diego had already served six years on the Kingston Trio
and provided the Monkees with a number one hit ("Daydream
Believer"). In spite of all critical acclaim, Stewart's
luck soon turned sour. Then, ten years after the release of his
debut album, Stewart hit the US charts with "Gold,"
a duet with Fleetwood Mac's Stevie Nicks. After that he disappeared
into obscurity again. He kept recording (an astonishing 40 solo
albums in total) for small labels, but artistically he seemed
to be well beyond his peak. When Havana landed on my desk,
I didn't know what to expect. Frankly, I had forgotten about
the man. That won't happen again, I'm sure, because Havana is
by far the best release I have heard this year.
There is an exceptional maturity about the whole project,
a wisdom present not only in the lyrics, but somehow pervading
everything with a gripping spiritual force. Stewart's voice has
become the voice of an old man, comparisons with Johnny Cash
and Guy Clark are not far-fetched. It's a voice that radiates
trustworthiness, something that tells you that whatever this
guy may have been up to in the past, you can rely on him now.
It's this mixture of toughness and fragility translated into
beautiful music that grabs you right away and carries you through
all fifteen songs, then puts you gently back on your feet. You're
on your own again - but, wait a minute. It all begins with a
captivating Paul Simon meets John Fogerty rock'n'roll observation
on Stewart's very own fan discussion internet group. Then things
get serious with "Who Stole the Soul of Johnny Dreams,"
where Stewart tells his story as a songwriter turned midnight
TV surfer and asks himself a lot of questions about the meaning
of life. "Something has gone wrong - it's the bell that
never rings," he muses over the melancholy sounds of banjo
and harmonica and, yes, it must often have been rather quiet
in the Stewart residence during the last 30 years.
Stewart switches between musical genres without any noticeable
effort: rock'n'roll, blues, folk and country smoothly blend into
each other. The acoustic landscape he paints is melancholy, nostalgic
and vulnerable most of the time with occasional bright spots
of hope and warmth. There is melancholy, sadness and defiance
in "Starman," where Stewart is joined by Noelle Ford
(presumably his daughter) on viola and in "Dogs in the Bed,"
a metaphor for not being able to deal with anything because of
constant diversions and worries. There is nostalgia in "Rock'n'Roll
Nation," an almost punkish song celebrating the fifties
when every kid wanted to be Elvis and in, yes, "I Want to
be Elvis" (when the girls all scream), with Stewart asking
himself in the end "do I wanna be Elvis and pay that price?"
Beautifully surreal is "Cowboy in the Distance," where
a young girl roller-skates along the "the cornfields of
New York City" waiting for her "cowboy in the distance"
to call her and come home. I can't help being partial to this
song for the simple reason that as an innocent 13-year-old I
wrote my first book about cowboys arriving in NYC on horseback
staring at the "skyscrapers of Flushing." My writing
career went downhill from there, finally landing me a "job"
on a certain Texan website No more cowboys or rollerskates on
the rest of Havana, but it doesn't get less interesting.
Frankly, I could have done without "Turn of the Century
(Diana)," Stewart's version of the story behind the sudden
death of the princess of Wales, in spite of the fact that it
is considerably less awful than Dale Watson's attempt to cover
the same subject. I find this American fascination with European
royalty rather mind-boggling.
However, the rest of the remaining songs are simply awesome.
They include an ode to Stewart's life partner Buffy Ford Mary,
"Miracle Girl," who also sings and plays percussion
on the album, along with a great interpretation of "Lucky
Old Sun" that shows a certain similarity with Johnny Cash's
version on American III: Solitary Man. The last three
songs in particular are breathtakingly beautiful. "Waltz
of the Crazy Moon" and "Rally Down The Night"
make the hair on your neck stand upright, an effect brought about
by Stewart's masterful acoustic guitar playing and his talent
as a story teller. And finally there is "Waiting for Castro
to Die." In order to prevent new political controversy leading
to mass destruction of innocent plastic: Stewart's song is not
a political statement about pushing a regime-change in a country
strangely enough missing from the new "axis of evil."
It's a song about the somehow absurd situation that a US citizen
can no longer visit Havana; a beautiful, sad song, full of sweet
regret and hope for all those involved. It's also a song where
Stewart plays mind-blowing acoustic guitar and provides the most
interesting bass lines I've heard for quite a while. One thing
is for sure: I'll be waiting for John Stewart to make many more
albums as good as this one.
www.appleseedrec.com
Contact Marianne Ebertowski at ebertowski-at-rockzilla.net
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