The Welterweights
Here Goes Nothing

by William Michael Smith

In the continuous search for the next cool band I tend to jot down the names of bands who open for acts at the top of my favorites list. I was checking the tour dates on Scott Miller's website a couple of months back and noticed a few Midwest dates with The Welterweights. Never heard of 'em, but any band with fortitude enough to take the stage before The Commonwealth is usually welcome in my listening room. Their Here Goes Nothing CD confirmed that they belong on the same boards with Miller and his boys. Welterweights, grab a chair, open a beer, make yourselves to home. And push "play."

She subscribes to a magazine
So she's got something to wait for in the mail
Every time she plays Monopoly
She draws that card that says "Go directly to jail"

There's a bit of would-you-feel-sorry-for-me, I'm-really-a-nice-guy inflection in Nate Williams' earnest voice (it's funny how Scott Miller has that same camouflage working for him), like maybe he's likable, even a little lovable. But there's also that little something that says watch that boy, he may set the carpet on fire or stick a banana in your tailpipe, may tell your girlfriend you've got a disease or drink your last beer. Something about the young man says he's prone to sudden moves.

In my mind's eye I've drawn a curtain
So you won't know what I've not known all along
I'm at my worst when I'm certain
Desertin' you won't take long

With drummers Dave Orvis and Mark Gardner, bassist Elizabeth Schoch, and lead guitarist Corey Heider, anc Williams on rhythm guitar, The Welterweights make a powerful noise. In fact, two words describe The Welterweights, and they are two of the most revered words in the American musical lexicon. Bar Band. Not bar band in the sense of a bunch of weekend warriors fooling themselves that they've got something going on, slogging on in their pleather pants through the smoke and spilled beer in the hopes of meeting chicks 'cause they're in show biz. Not bar band in the sense that they'll never make it off of the tip jar circuit. No, bar band in the sense that they play songs that sound like they were written by people with their hair on fire, who'd sell their souls to hear a bar full of people scream "more." Bar band in the sense of a group of musicians who take it seriously but won't do it unless it's fun ­ for them and the audience. Bar band in the sense that they can rock ("Honeymoon"), they can twang ("Nuns & Beatniks"), they blast it when blasting it is what's required ("Whinin' Boy"), and they can tone it down when the song calls for toning it down ("Fast or Famine") without prissing or coming off as dainty. Bar band in the sense that Bottle Rockets are a bar band!

And if there is a band that The Welterweights remind us of, it is Bottle Rockets with their heartland twang and songs about used cars and suspect lovers. Their edgy "Hardly Used Car" may well have been at least partially inspired by Bottle Rockets' "$1000 Car," only where the Rockets were buying the Welters are selling, and truth in advertising and fair dealing demands that they tell prospective buyers "if you want a used car I got a lemon for you/ain't got many miles even though it's 22... it'll get you where you're going/long as you don't care how long it takes."

Williams has a pleasing ability to draw desperate characters that make good song subjects, like the female in "Little Red Light" who "wanted to be independent and wound up livin' alone."

That little red light that never blinks
For the little red head that never thinks
Like she's got any choice as to who she can or can't be
The little red light flashes and glows
Sometime she wants to stick her head in the stove
The little red light'll be the last thing she ever sees

The hilarious "Whinin' Boy" offers Heider a chance to confront his Chuck Berry guitar demons and he does a more than admirable job (subliminal editorial comment: not enough young bands pay proper homage to Chuck Berry, the godfather of guitar rock). Heider's fat guitar sound combined with the rock steady rhythm section carries the 15-track album along like freight train going downgrade.

Williams is truly a fine roots songwriter, and at least three of his efforts here, "Nuns & Beatniks," "Fast or Famine," and "Close Enough," are worthy of specific mention, either for a novel outlook or handling of a subject, or for smartly done turns of phrase.

"Nuns & Beatniks" is a well thought out, No Depression-vibe lament, a social indictment, and a rebellious I-ain't-going-down-without-a-fight statement about the effects of progress and the pressures of the modern milieu on the people living in the small towns of Mid-America. Musically, it has great pacing and its twangy ease and melancholy harmonica work well with the content.

I grew up in a small town that just got bigger every day
They soon plowed all the cornfields down and clamored for brand names
I used to know my neighbors, I could tell you 'bout their lives
Now I just stare at the clothes they wear, the kinds of cars they drive

Now my race seems over before I have begun
Fittin' in seemed like a sin, I thought I'd always be young
Now I've tried hard and not at all and I'm not sure which is worse
It ain't a blessing when you look at it right, hell it seems like a curse

The Lord giveth and he taketh away
The Lord meters out the work and the days
The Lord keeps an honest man prostrate
The Lord hates an ingrate

The twangy youthful melancholy continues on the playfully angst-ridden but beautifully written "Fast or Famine." Williams again displays an easy facility with catchy, interesting wordplay and allusions.

A book on voodoo and the Tao of Pooh
The Kama Sutra with no one to do
I read Confucius and it just left me confused

Credit Williams with taking the time and care to ponder deeply a social phenomenon we've been inundated with yet which few of us have probed deeply enough to come to grips with the implications. We love our jaded, faded artists and our outlaw heroes, yet to do so implies something about us "the system" that few of us ever bother to understand or question. It is a bit of genius on Williams' part that he can see the implications and frame them in such an odd yet instructive way. His "Close Enough" is cut straight from the heart of popular culture.

He was born among the Born Again, the ex-junkies, ex-hookers, ex-con men
They said, Son, you gotta learn from our sins, walk a straight and narrow life"
But he'd hear songs on the radio by some guy shudda died a long time ago
Braggin' 'bout the pills and the booze and the coke he never shudda lived to survive
Small wonder he ran away one night wonderin' how far down you gotta go to be proud?
And how far down you went and lived to tell and be the rebel or repent
He's got a lotta plans, ain't thought about 'em much
He don't want to hit rock bottom, he just wants to get close enough to touch

Every bar band worth its salt knows you need a strong closer and "Zen Baptist" fills the bill. It is the kind of hard rocking, cynical view roots song The Ramones would want to do if they did roots rock.

When the worst that you can do is the best that you can muster
I'm well versed with those voices in your head
It come pilin' up on you like a campaign filibuster
And the sun's gone down and you're still lyin' in bed

If every breath's a blessing then I guess you can call me blessed
If breathin's an accomplishment I guess I'm a success
I won't settle for less
I guess

Produced by Lou Whitney (four tracks were produced by J. Hall), Here Goes Nothing captures the youthful exuberance and energy of good young bar band learning their trade. Whitney has kept it simple here, nothing flashy, no string arrangements, in fact not even any keyboards. Just straight ahead four piece bar band roots rock. Don't be surprised to see The Welterweights in your town. I don't think they'll be the opening band for long.

* Buy Here Goes Nothing at www.thewelterweights.com


Contact William Michael Smith at: wms-at-rockzilla.net

 
Read Rockzilla's Guestbook
Sign Rockzilla's Guestbook