CD Review

Yoakam digs up roots nurtured by heartbreak

By Joe Gross
American-Statesman Music Critic
June 12, 2005

Photo by Randee St. Nicholas Dwight Yoakum's 'Blame the Vain' is bound together by the common thread of a tattered relationship, a genre the singer has always done well.

Dwight Yoakum 'Blame the Vain' (New West) "Blame the Vain" Windows Media | Real Media

But for a revivalist, he has always been willing to futz around with the form. His acting career is that rarest of birds for singer-turned-thespians: Yoakam actually has chops, and anybody who says they weren't surprised by them probably sleeps with an autographed copy of his 1986 debut, "Guitars, Cadillacs, Etc., Etc.," under the pillow. He dated Sharon Stone, knocked out a bunch of decent albums that country music fans compulsively overrate, joined them with a few excellent hits collections that anyone can love. He's worked in that awkward area between smoothly professional, Nashville hitmaker, Austin singer-songwriter sincerity-junkie and alt-country icon. He's a critical darling with a voice somewhere between George Jones' polished grit and Randy Travis' angelic croon.

His last studio effort, "Population Me" (2003), was brilliant in spots ("If Teardrops Were Diamonds," "I'd Avoid Me Too") and utterly misguided elsewhere ("The Late Great Golden State," tepid country-rock complete with Eagle Timothy B. Schmidt on backing vocals: Ouch). "Population" felt too self-consciously comebacky -- it smacked of effort, which the best country shouldn't. But on the whole, there isn't much the guy can't do, and few tropes he isn't willing to worship one minute and mutate the next.

Now he can add producer to his skill set: "Vain" is his first self-produced outing, and breaking up with longtime producer/guitarist Pete Anderson seems to have re-energized him. But he's still a king of broken-hearted recombinant honk; "Vain" plays out like a 12-track ode to a disintegrating relationship, with shards of rock, bluegrass, hard-tonk country and Nashville gloss.

The fabulous title track opens the album with a meaty, twangy hook and a sour puss: "I'll blame the vain/for what we wear/and I'll blame the blind/when we can't see/I'll blame it all/on someone else/til there's nobody left/ then I'll just blame me." Like most heels, Yoakam can't decide if he hates himself, his ex or what. "Lucky that Way" mopes in a beer, "Intentional Heartache" roars along on bongos and "Three Good Reasons" looks to rockabilly for solace.

But this relationship in question is clearly beyond repair; he wonders what to do next on the excellent ballad "Just Passin' Time," which takes on a cosmic American edge with space-twang from Ventures guitarist Gerry McGee. There are strange moments, but you know, Yoakam is kind of a strange dude. The odd shouted rant at the end of "Intentional Heartache" doesn't really add anything to the gnarly rave-up, and "She'll Remember" opens with Yoakam fiddling with a synth and putting on British accent. (Clearly, he hasn't listened to KROQ since Gary Numan's "Cars.")

The country rocker "Watch Out" stays bitter -- Yoakam's always had a big, let's call it a fragile, male ego: "Watch how she cut that (heart) clean through/watch out, she'll do the same to you." But the "The Last Heart in Line" acoustic mope and countrypolitan strings stay just this side of melodrama.

Welcome back, Dwight: Keep that heart busted.