There are a
series of Mojo apps for the iPhone [http://iphone.wareseeker.com/free-mojo], and a range (pardon the pun) of mountain
bikes sports the name [http://bikereviews.com/2010/01/ibis-mojo-hd-2010-full-suspension-mountain-bike], as does the latest album from Tom
Petty. The term Mojo is thought to be of African origin
and has several connotations and associations with voodoo – such as spell-binding
capacity; or a bag containing various artifacts of the magic practitioner, akin
perhaps to the Gladstone bag of Drs Finlay/Kildare/House but in another
culture. Mojo can also mean the state
of libido or sexual prowess. Muddy Waters may have had a lot to do with
suggesting this latter aspect, which was later picked up on and reiterated by The
Doors. However, the term has also has acquired a sense of being “on form”
musically, and this is perhaps the notion tapped into by a popular music
publication of the same name. Nonetheless the magazine’s title inevitably reinforces
an oft-stated association between rock music and sexuality.
Who but Tom Petty
knows the reasons why he appropriated the term as the title of his new album
released two weeks ago but, in Slicer’s view, it is more than appropriate,
since Petty and his band are very much on form. As they make this foray into
the blues, one likely reason for the title is that it’s a nod to the great and lasting
musical influence of Muddy Waters.
Petty did some
solo work over the last few years but this album sees him reunited with the
Heartbreakers. He and his band belong to a select group of rock musicians of
high calibre. Talent often attracts talent and so it is no surprise that he and
the Heartbreakers have toured with Dylan and that he also joined Harrison,
Orbison, Lynne & the aforementioned Zim in the Travelling Wilburys. (Anyone
spot the link with the last blog? Answers on a postcard to…… or alternatively
be the first to post the answer on this blog as a comment). Independently of
such esteemed company, Petty’s lowest musical achievements are achievements
that many current artists could aspire to, if only they had the song-crafting
and song-delivering ability of the man at his weakest moments.
If we were to
come up with some sort of scale to describe the relative quality and seismic impact
of his contributions (just as we have the Richter Scale for earthquakes), on
the Petty Scale Mojo is clearly a
really big quake. It’s not that this album has invented entirely new dishes
musically (who really does?), but it serves up traditional blues fare in new
and contemporary ways, slickly blending in other flavours, and yet the result still
seems pure Petty & the Heartbreakers. Before I get carried away with more
metaphors, I’ll move on to the collection itself.
This album
certainly had my rafters quivering (not a metaphor) and I daresay it could “shake your windows and rattle your walls,” but that description
might lead you to think that it’s aggressive and heavy. It’s certainly not
either of these, but it is intense, thanks in no small part to Mike Campbell’s
guitar, and to the fact that it was recorded largely live with few overdubs. Although
described as The Heartbreakers’ tackling of blues, there are all sorts of
influences across the album. Just like Jack
Reacher, The Slicer knows no fear but, in offering these thoughts, he may
have a distant inkling of what that emotion is like, since Petty is on record
as saying “any attempt to intellectualise it [the blues] wouldn’t wear well.” Ultimately,
however, Slicer agrees that these things are better felt than rationalised. (This
principle may apply to other arenas as well – faith, love and sex being three
potential contenders). In an effort to help you emote, here is the Slicer’s
take, track by track.
Jefferson
Jericho Blues kicks off with a recurring
urgent harmonica and guitar riff, the singer describing, and personally
identifying with, the failings of the 3rd President of the United
States, and the principal author of the Declaration of Independence, whose
family base was the Monticello Plantation in Virginia. Since 1802 it has been
alleged, with some supporting DNA evidence in 1998, that Thomas Jefferson kept
his young black maid as a concubine, and had at least one child by her. The
song’s main character, referred to as “I,” seems to express sympathy for
Jefferson, perhaps because the character feels he too is likely to be judged
for his actions in Jericho when “that
bugle blows.” So Slicer reckons the song is an acknowledgement that it’s
not just others who do bad things – and hears resonances of “Judge not…” or “Let he who
is without sin cast the first stone.” Slicer presumes the reference to
Jericho is to one of the 6 (at least) US towns of that name, rather than the
Palestinian city. However, the mention of the bugle does raise the possibility
of the latter.
Slicer thinks it’s
interesting that Jericho, Palestine is thought to be one of the oldest continuously
inhabited cities in the world, with archaeological evidence of civilisation going
back more than 11,000 years – and bad things that the singer associates with
perhaps a modern US Jericho, and Monticello, Virginia have been done
continuously for the last 11,000 years and indeed back further, to whenever man
was first able to differentiate between good and evil. Slicer is a bad man but,
hey, we all are. Slicer realizes he’s guilty of lots of things, including
breaking the principle he had aspired to above of not intellectualising the
blues!
First
Flash of Freedom (blues in waltz-time!) has a distinctive prog rock feel. Some
have commented on an Allman Brothers influence; Slicer hears Dark Side of the Moon-era Pink Floyd (Breathe). The notion that rational
argument has its limitations is flagged: “We
felt so much more than our hearts could explain” - and reminds The Slicer
of his favourite Michael Polanyi quote “We know more than we can tell.” [http://www.infed.org/thinkers/polanyi.htm]; “Across painted hills that
no rich man can claim” reminds him that we own less than we think we own.
Running
Man’s Bible is on the subject of
survival. It oozes a rich, liquid
guitar sound, with hints of Santana, alongside lots of Hammond organ.
The
Trip to Pirate’s Cove. Guitar on this track
sounds at times like Knopfler in early Dire Straits, but with a more edgy tone
and a load of shimmery delay effect. The song describes a drive into the sunset
– the closest they get to padding on this CD.
Candy
is an incredibly
infectious blues shuffle with such a mellow guitar sound that Slicer just knew
a semi-acoustic was involved – until the liner notes showed that neither the
Gibson ES-335, nor the Epiphone Sheraton were in use on this track; it’s Les
Paul, SG Special & Strat. The lyrics on the liner notes are spelt
conventionally, but when you’re drawn into singing along loudly, you really
feel they have to be sung as: “I sho’
like dat Candy - I don’t go for dem tuhynip greens.” A real toe-tapper.
No
Reason To Cry, a romantic soother, is given a strong country feel by the
lap steel. Hidden within it is mention of being under a magic spell.
I
Should Have Known It is in stark contrast to the song
it follows. It voices self-criticism for not realizing sooner that a girlfriend
was bad news. However, it also voices how the girl has wronged the singer. He protects
his ego and exorcises his pain by announcing “It’s over now you see – it’s the last time you’re gonna hurt me.” In
another line, the phrase “Sold down the
river” has a particular colloquial meaning here in Northern Ireland, being
forever associated with accusations directed at the British Government by the
Rev Ian Paisley. This was some time prior to his embracing of power-sharing in
government with Sinn Fein. Since then, there has been considerable progress and
co-operation, even if not a Whole Lotta
Love between the two parties. Oh yes… the song has a definite Led Zep feel
to it.
U.S.
41 sounds like it’s sung through a
megaphone. Very much a working-man’s song. It starts all simple and acoustic,
and finishes with some tasty electric slide and a smattering of blues harp.
Takin’
My Time features heavy use of Wah-Wah
and distortion, and could easily be mistaken for something penned by John Lee Hooker or Son House. “Losin’ my way to
somethin’ stronger than me…”
Let
Yourself Go is kinda “Riders on the Storm” Doors meets “Down by the Jetty” Dr Feelgood (with the
essential Lee Brilleaux).
Don’t
Pull Me Over has a reggae feel, and Petty
almost sounds like he’s got a Jamaican accent at times. It describes fear of
being pulled over by the police at night… “When
the moonlight turns to blue light, makes me so afraid…” Slicer can’t think
of another reggae song using Wah-Wah, so throws out another challenge to
readers…
Lover’s
Touch is a song about desire for the healing
and liberating properties of an absent woman’s touch. Slicer is again reminded
of Santana, and not just because She’s Not There.
High
In The Morning laments heavy drinking, competition
for a woman, and use of demonic power cos it “could be the Devil gonna want it for his own.”
Something
Good Coming is a blues song of hope. Arpeggio-like
with Flanger a-plenty, a few rough edges to the vocal avoid it being in any way
syrupy.
Good
Enough is about settling not for the best, but
for what is good enough. It’s perhaps more typical of Petty’s previous output,
but with another dollop of prog rock bombast.
For those who find the
standard album’s 15 tracks aren’t enough, there is an iTunes LP edition with
bonus audio and videos material, alongside scans of four handwritten lyrics
sheets.
Petty has sung previously “I’m learning to fly, but I ain’t got
wings.” In this tackling of the
blues, it looks like he and his bandmates each grew a pair.
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