Jay Farrar
Aladdin Theater
3017 S.E. Milwaukie
503-233-1994
July 23
Doors at 7 p.m.
$15 general ad.
This morning, over a somewhat alt-country breakfast of hashbrowns, eggs and toast, I found myself stuck with the unfortunate task of letting a friend know why they recognized the name Jay Farrar. I say unfortunate because no matter the quality of the man’s solo recordings and no matter the commercial and critical success of his sometime-band Son Volt, there is only one dependable way to identify him: “Remember that band that broke up when the one guy formed Wilco? Farrar was the other guy.”
Farrar: the other guy. Son Volt: the other band. Sometimes that’s how the cookie crumbles. Some pieces with chocolate, others without. Ask George Harrison. Ask the Black Keys or L.A. Guns. They will all tell you the same story: “The public bought our records – hesitantly – and attended our concerts – listlessly – but it was always obvious that they preferred White Stripes to Black Keys and Roses to Guns. It became difficult to tell whether we were being underrated due to such prominent points of reference or we were unintentionally riding the coattails of said reference points to a recognition we never deserved.”
That said, a careful listener will find that the work of Farrar and that of former Uncle Tupelo bandmate Jeff Tweedy’s Wilco are more complimentary than contentious. Farrar represents a more humble, organic approach when compared to Tweedy’s subtle bombast. Supporting this idea, one can look at the personalities involved in the musicians’ recordings. While Farrar, on his solo recordings, has worked with such notable neo-traditional musicians as Gillian Welch and David Rawlings, Tweedy has spent his own studio time with verifiable rock geniuses like Jim O’Rourke recording for the safely experimental label Nonesuch Records.
Of course, it is unfair to set the work of these two musicians – separate people, of course, leading lives independent of one another – side by side in the way that I have done, but it is not merely a critical practice: It is also the intuitive response of an Uncle Tupelo fan. When a group is led by more than one singer/songwriter, post-breakup material can be a fascinating source for insight (hypothetical insight, at least) into their inner workings. Certain decisions, from album titles to the choice of tour support, can be investigated with the knowledge of the individual musicians that comes from evaluating their post-breakup work. Such evaluation can also lead the more obsessive fans into exciting psychological debates concerning the nature of artistic tensions and the group’s eventual demise.
Fans who have come to admire Wilco since the release of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot may find little reason to be interested in Farrar’s current work, but if one follows Tweedy’s career back a few years, they will no doubt find it rewarding to compare early Son Volt with early Wilco. From this point, while the former bandmates were still aligned in many ways, it is fascinating to follow Farrar’s career and see how his path has diverged from Tweedy’s, leading him down a rustic path more often occasioned to tractors, combines and the like than by Tweedy’s streamlined airliners.