On their web site, the Gasoline Lollipops slot themselves among the alt-country crowd, and the rock crowd, AND the Americana crowd. It’s not that they can’t make up their minds, it’s that they don’t concern themselves with being pigeonholed, so you needn’t either.
“For so long I thought we had to have a genre,” says frontman/songwriter/visionary Clay Rose. “At first it was a cow-punk band, then I needed a rock band, then a folk rock band, then I needed a country band, then I needed an Americana band. But I guess coloring inside the lines is not in my cards.” Bully for that. Outside the lines is where things get interesting.
It’s a necessary evil to liken an artist to a better-known commodity, so how about the Jayhawks (with balls) and Nick Drake? Tom Petty and Leonard Cohen meeting for coffee. James McMurtry remaking the Black Crowes in his own image. A side-salad of Muscle Shoals with a tangy dash of Stax. Yadda yadda. Short answer, the Gas Pops sound like the United States of America.
The songs on their new album, All the Misery Money Can Buy (due out on September 11, 2020 on Soundly Music), back it up. In sturdy, hard-bitten, no-nonsense elegies, Clay takes snapshots of dusty wanderlust. It’s all masterfully concise, with 11 songs populated by restless souls who live entire lives in three minutes, mining triumph out of desperation, chasing the American Dream, and “choking on a pot of gold.” “What I took from Leonard Cohen was the value of a word,” Clay says, “If it’s not needed, it doesn’t go on the page. You whittle a lyric down to its essence, say it once, and that’s enough.”
As for the sounds themselves, the Gas Pops are genuine virtuoso musicians who understand that in this line of work virtuosity is like garlic: a little goes a long way. Drummer Kevin Matthews is a classically trained music educator who has played in the Colorado Symphony Orchestra. Bassist Bradley “Bad Brad” Morse has a Bachelor’s degree in jazz studies, orchestral experience and award-winning bluegrass work under his belt. Keyboardist/organist Scott Coulter is a recognized authority on the Hammond B-3 organ; his fleet-fingered work recalls Billy Preston and even John Lord of Deep Purple. Guitarist Donny Ambory, another educated jazzer, moves with élan between fluid Hendrix-style chord melodies and frenetic string mangling like the best work of Albert Lee. The whole band — perfectly capable of hot-dogging all over each other like your worst Dave Matthews nightmare — never play their instruments, they play the song.
Today Glide is excited to premiere “Sinnerman,” one of the standout tracks on the new album. The song is a rendition of Nina Simone’s 1960s but the band puts a decidedly different spin on their own version, slowing down the tempo and going for a more laid back sound that presents this timeless tune with a fresh take. Swapping out Simone’s frantic piano playing for a Steely Dan-esque piano groove, the band injects a bluesy intensity into the song and amplifies it with gritty guitar and soulful organ. In many versions of Simone’s song – especially in the live setting – there is an element of gospel and revival tent fervor. Here we get a more polished yet still sprawling take that finds the each band member lending strong instrumental elements that include heavy bass grooves, blistering guitar solos, and of course some piano. Of course, in the context of today’s fucked up world the lyrics still resonate in a powerful way, which can be said for nearly all of Nina Simone’s songs. Coming in at just over seven minutes, the song also has plenty of jamming.
Frontman Clay Rose describes the inspiration to record the song:
“The first time I heard Nina Simone’s live version of ‘Sinnerman’ from 1965, I thought it was the greatest piece of recorded music I had ever heard, and I still do. It seemed more spirit than song, and listening to it felt like an exorcism. The reason I wanted to record this song right now is because we have a ‘Sinnerman’ sitting in the White House and this country is in desperate need of an exorcism. I hope that we are not too frail a vessel for the great power of this song. We did our best, though it was a daunting task. Here’s to Nina Simone and the generations of Black Lives that sang their own versions of this song before her. We revere them all and give our deepest thanks for this indelible piece of art.”
LISTEN:
