DAVID BAERWALD
Here Comes the New Folk Underground
(Lost Highway)
David Baerwald may be the most successful unreknowned songwriter in the world. He co-wrote and played on much of Sheryl Crow's breakthrough album Tuesday Night Music Club, including the massive single "Leaving Las Vegas." He wrote the Golden Globe-nominated love song "Come What May," used prominently in the film Moulin Rouge and already spawning cover versions. He toured with Jewel as her handpicked opening act and wrote the soundtrack to the cult movie Hurlyburly. Despite all this, most people probably remember him as a one-hit wonder, the artist behind the 80s hit "Welcome to the Boomtown" as half of the duo David + David.

Which is a shame, as he's consistently made some of the best American rock music in the past 20 years. Besides the excellent 1986 David + David record Boomtown, he's also the author of two superb solo albums, 1990's Bedtime Stories and 1992's Triage, which expertly blended Baerwald's gritty character studies and soulful baritone with flowing melodies and radio-friendly production. Unfortunately, songs about pedophiles, political and social unrest and the decay of Los Angeles as a metaphor for the breakdown of America aren't exactly the threads of which top 40 dreams are woven, and the combination of label neglect and challenging material insured public indifference to two of the best records of the 90s. Baerwald dropped out of making albums under his own name in favor of session and film work, but enough of his own songs accumulated that he realized it was time for another solo opus, if only he could find a label conducive to his needs. Lost Highway stepped up to the plate, and now we have Here Comes the New Folk Underground, the first David Baerwald album in a decade.

The first thing one notices about Underground is the clean, airy sound. Baerwald and his previous producers tended to bury his songs in dense arrangements of keyboards and guitars. His songcraft is such that no amount of production can blunt his impact, but less fussiness would have been nice. Wish granted; on this record he utilizes a lighter touch, with space-filled arrangements that draw inspiration from folk, roots rock and soul. He adorns probing cuts like "Why" and "The Crash" with touches of banjo and mandolin, while horn-flavored tunes like "Love #29," "Nothing's Gonna Bring Me Down" and "Me and My Girl" find the midway point between 60s Motown and 70s Philadelphia. The result is the most relaxed album he's ever made; Baerwald sounds as comfortable in these arrangements as longtime lovers in bed on a weekend morning, and the listener can't help but be swept up in the good feeling.

None of this means he's any less intense than he's ever been. Baerwald is still dwelling, as he always has, on the darker side of modern life. "The Crash" examines a disintegrating relationship through the lens of a violent car wreck, while "IF (A Boy Whore in a Man's Jail)" takes a unvarnished but unsensational look at a young drifter and what he has to do to survive ("I'm trying to remember/How I wound up here/People look at me/And avert their eyes" the protagonist croons to a jaunty piano-and-horns melody line). The protagonists in "Wondering" and "Bozo Weirdo Wacko Creep" wallow in the self-pity of the brokenhearted, while a freely-adapted romp through the traditional "Hellbound Train" furiously rocks lines like "We have justice scorned/And corruption avowed/We have trampled the laws of nature down." "Why" simply tries to figure out why nobody cares about anything anymore. This is all familiar territory for Baerwald and his fans, and he still does wasted and alone in America better than nearly anyone.

It's important to note, however, that Baerwald has always been careful to balance out the bitter with the sweet, cynicism and despair with optimism and hope, and it's on that other side of the coin that Underground really shines. "Sometimes it gets so ugly/All you can do is crack sick jokes," he sings on "Nothing's Gonna Bring Me Down," "Me I'm pretty sick of that/How 'bout faith, even hope." It's a blunt and courageous statement from a man previously regarded for his black humor. In "Compassion" he lays out what's needed to cure the world's ills: "There's something new/All the best people do it/It's free and it's fun and exciting," and the amazingly infectious "Sha-la-la" chorus helps the medicine go down. He unabashedly celebrates love; even though the protagonist of "Love #29" realizes something's wrong, he has faith that his partner will "continue to be/Love #29." "Me and My Girl" is even more blatant; over a soul groove Motown would have been happy to claim as its own, he joyfully sings "You are my girl/And we're gonna do just fine in this world." Baerwald is no wide-eyed romantic; he's perfectly aware of the obstacles thrown in the path of true love not only by the universe, but also by oneself. But he firmly believes love is worth fighting for, and when listening to "Me and My Girl" even the most hardened cynic may believe it too.

The record seems a bit underwhelming, even bland, at first; the lack of the in-your-face production of years past is a bit disarming in the beginning. But it's all in the service of the songs, and the hooks in every cut here will shine through. Baerwald is at the top of his game on Here Comes the New Folk Underground, and he's more than willing to pull you up the mountain with him. Brilliant. Michael Toland [buy it]

For fans of: Paul K, Tom Petty, Randy Newman