D. B. Harris
Can I Return These Flowers
By William Michael Smith
 D.B Harris is
one of Austin's newest honky-tonk arrivals. In his previous Birmingham,
Alabama incarnation as D. Braxton Harris, he released an Appalachian
style album that drew the notice of No Depression magazine
and others who keep their finger on the pulse of the alternative
country nation. But according to Harris, despite the high profile
publicity and what was for him a record he was well satisfied
with, he got some hard lessons in the business side of the business.
Sales proved miniscule, and talented players with dedication
proved hard to find and hold together for gigs. Austin called.
It takes a lot of brass to move to Austin and set up shop
as a honky-tonker, but since arriving in Austin Harris has dropped
the "Braxton" and the Appalachian sound has given way
to hard-core honky-tonk. Cut with some of Austin's top studio
musicians like Brad Fordham, Scott Mathews, Riley Osboure, Eddie
Perez, and Ricky Davis, Can I Return These Flowers is
a tour de force of honky-tonk stylistics as Harris tries his
hand at a number of already familiar sounds and formats, from
the horn-driven Latin-ized country arrangements of The Mavericks
to the deep twang of Dwight Yoakam, even dabbling in the Carl
Perkins rockabilly side of the roadhouse music equation.
"When I fell in love with country music, I fell hard
in to it," Harris said. So hard he resides on Hank Avenue
(you could look it up). The album proves he's a quick student.
His lyrics are completely believable in the context of dusted
boot-scooting dance floors and glitzy jukeboxes, his supporting
players make a ringer ensemble, and Harris's voice is flexible
enough to go from the blue torchy style of Raul Malo and Roy
Orbison to the rawness of a rockabilly twist-n-shout. The closing
track, Elvis Presley's "Love Me," sounds like vintage
mid-'50s Sun. In fact, the entire effort has a retro feel. As
Harris begins, one can almost see that patented Presley lip twitch.
Without falling into the trap of Texas clichés, Harris
nails the Texas tonk vibe on the raw twangin' Yoakam-ish "Night
Time Man."
I like the after-hours things you might expect
Like a roadside joint and a cold longneck
Pretty woman dancin' in the neon light
Before the night is through I'll even see a fight
Oh, darlin', I was born a nighttime man
Harris smartly walks a narrow zone between the voices of Malo
and Del Shannon on his own composition, "My Little Runaway."
The instrumental layering in Harris and Fordham's arrangement
strikes a perfect retro chord. The slow "Overdue (For Being
Over You)" also has Yoakam/Malo resonance, but the dominant
accent is Perez's echoing deliberate Bill Kirchen twang.
The title track is the cleverest lyric in an album that stands
out for its lyrics. This is a two-step fiddle/steel Texas shuffle
and Harris's voice drips with the hillbilly hurt of a Lefty Frizzell
or Webb Pierce. If Dwight Yoakam had cut this twenty years ago,
it might have caused ripples like "Guitars Cadillacs."
Pardon me, can I return these flowers
I don't think they've been held by anyone
Find them a warm place in the sun
And a lover who will hold them in her arms
Toward the end of the album, Harris assumes more of a hepcat
country persona with "Hollywood in Texas" and "She's
Cool To Me," which have a country Ronnie Dawson flavor driven
by Perez's hot licks and Harris's hubba-hubba delivery and I'm-a-crazy-cat
screams. "Try This On For Size" is another Yoakam-ish
hurtin' song with a nifty dance hall shuffle and smart hillbilly
harmonies. The lyric is pure old Nashville honky-tonk heyday.
Try this on for size
The bills are on the table
They're all written in your name
Honey, you deserved the best
With Roger Wallace having recently given up his honky-tonk
residency at the Continental Club, Harris seems to be stepping
in to fill the vacuum according to the Austin schedules I see.
Like Harris said, when he fell for country, he fell hard. If
you don't believe it, Can I Return These Flowers will
probably be all the convincing you need. Austin knows honky-tonk.
So does D.B. Harris.
www.nighttimeman.com
|
