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Matt Minor and Shot Glass
Train To Catch
PCP
By David Pilot
 In an era of cookie-cutter music,
a wasteland of hat acts and the flannel and Levi's set, where
the songs all sound the same and the pathos is more often than
not lost in the ether, there's no better find than a record that
makes you sit up and listen. Considering the wasteland noted
above is sittin' tight south of the Red River and apparently
only a decade or so behind but gainin' on the leather and silicone
set in NashVegas - - the only city in America outside of LA where
it's a career goal to look like a porn star - - the wall of sound
Matt Minor unleashes on Train To Catch feels better'n
a cold splash of Brazos water on a July afternoon. Co-producer
David Sanger (Asleep At the Wheel) calls Minor a Texas spawn
of Bono and the Boss. Listen, and you'll catch the drift; it's
not as far-fetched as you might think. Here Redd Volkaert fills
the role little Steven Van Zandt made legend, but it's safe to
say Redd can hold his own. And while Matt's far too young to
be a boss, hell, a foreman, he's got the horsepower to turn your
knobs up as the tracks fly by. Unafraid to take risks, too
- - just check the high notes on "Haulin' Cars."
You'd be kicked out of your local karaoke bar for even trying
that one, but the man here almost nails it. Almost. And somehow
it's just close and ragged enough to accentuate the driving near-terror
of frustration that the rest of the lyric so bleakly paints.
Working for the man is a bitch, but it's been two decades since
you felt it so starkly.
Contrast that with the balmy beauty of "Stacy Lynn,"
as beautiful a ballad as you'll hear this year, and its equally
unsettling lyric, it begins to come clear that Minor's a talent
worth your listen. The kid can tell a story. If a picture's
worth a thousand words, then what are a forty or fifty words
that paint a mural worth?
There are some uptempo miscues that don't exactly distinguish
themselves ("Whole World's Partyin' ") but the smoke
rising from the guitars might be enough to get you overlooking
the missing substance. It's certainly enough to move your boots
to the floor. And other cuts, like "Pardon Me All To Hell,"
say Minor can rip the cork off when he needs to and make it worth
your while. But he's at his best when he's using charcoal to
put a fine point on the pain this coarse world can so efficiently
provide. Take this lyric from "Oleander City" as
proof:
For thirteen nights
Father you fought the fight
At the mercy of medicine
To die, should be to die
But the system kept you alive
To cage a soul must be a sin
"You Don't Understand Me" mines a similar vein,
though that one lies in the bedrock of a cold woman's heart and
offers up a flavor and shade of misery all its own. Even in
the triumph of a walk toward the door there's an anguished cry
of pain for the loss of all that is about to end. And that's
why Minor might be special. That's why Sanger makes the comparison
he makes. U2 and the E Street Band this ain't, but pretty damned
good it is. And these days, down in Texas where the coulda-beens
are lining up for Pat Green's leftovers, it's refreshing in and
of itself that this record is, well, different. It's reminiscent
at times of other Americana acts from the Backsliders to Teddy
Morgan and the Pistolas, and in places can run the gamut from
greatness to startling but average that those two acts can so
aptly display. But mostly Train To Catch sounds like
an American record filtered through the distinctly unique life
and times of a kid from Texas. And these days that's worth
a lot.
www.mattminorandshotglass.com
Contact David Pilot at: editor-at-rockzilla.net
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