Mojo

       
 
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 3^rd 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.