STAN RIDGWAY
Holiday In Dirt
(New West/Ultramodern)
"I wish I was in Tijuana/Eating barbecued iguana." Stan Ridgway could have had no idea when he penned those lines twenty years ago that they would be some of the most enduring lyrics from the New Wave era. Unfortunately, "Mexican Radio," the song from which they are taken, remains most folks' only exposure to one of modern rock music's most unique and underrated talents. First as the leader of Wall Of Voodoo and, since departing that act in 1983, as a solo artist (with infrequent outings with the outfit Drywall), Ridgway has compiled a body of work that defies category, garnering a cult following while only on occasion earning much airplay ("Drive She Said," "Don't Box Me In"). You don't so much listen to a Stan Ridgway album as "watch" it, full of four-minute film noirs delivered in an adenoidal voice that oddly resembles The B-52s' Fred Schneider. It's like stumbling into some remote cantina south of the border and striking up a conversation with some mysterious Harry Dean Stanton-type with stories to tell, and on Holiday In Dirt there's no shortage of tales.

The twelve-song collection is actually B-sides and unreleased tracks that hadn't made the cut for previous releases not because they lack merit but because, according to the liner notes (which, by the way, are more clever than the music on most albums), they didn't fit. Despite this cut and paste approach, it's a surprisingly seamless set that's bookended by two different versions of "Beloved Movie Star," a lazy, loping saga of vanishing dreams, punctuated (or perhaps mocked) by wife Pietra Wexstun's flourishes on harp.

There's a lot of desperation and paranoia here (no surprise to anyone familiar with Ridgway's work). The jittery, sparse "Operator Help Me" is an eavesdropping session on a cowering urbanite facing home invasion and "End Of The Line" (which, musically, recalls Wall Of Voodoo's "Call Of The West") certainly sounds like it with the foreboding warning, "You'll have to even up with me at the end of the line." Meanwhile, on the cryptically titled "Bing Can't Walk" (consult the liner notes) he assumes the guise of a leg breaker, singing the words with gusto over a spastic melody which sounds almost gleeful.

Although the material on Holiday In Dirt is darkly-tinged, it's not all dark. Much of it is delivered with wry bemusement as on "Whatever Happened To You?" (inspired by someone asking Ridgway the titular question). He captures innocence and hope on "Garage Band '69," with the grand dreams "powered up by love and electricity," and is heartbreakingly poignant on "Amnesia," one of two tracks featuring ex-Circle Jerk Zander Schloss. As for the lovely "Act Of Faith," it would seem a natural fit to be covered by Johnny Cash. Of course, be sure to stick around for the hidden track, a hysterical send-up of Charlie Rich's "Behind Closed Doors."

Like some troubadour of old, Stan Ridgway has bounced from label to label, never quite earning the widespread appreciation or recognition for his considerable talents. Perhaps that more than anything gives the songs on Holiday In Dirt such an authentic, well-worn feel. It's also reassuring to note that Ridgway always seems to surface again, and that's a comforting notion. Few contemporary artists do lonely as well as he does, while still leaving the listener feeling less alone. Tom Demalon [buy it]

For fans of: Giant Sand, Robyn Hitchcock, Tom Waits