Music: CD Reviews

Can a 'Countryman' do reggae? Not quite

Willie Nelson: "Countryman"
(Lost Highway)

Given reggae's traditional relationship with a certain herb and Willie Nelson's "fondness" — as The Associated Press story on this long-baking album so delicately puts it — for that same herb, "Countryman," Nelson's reggae album, seems an almost a priori inevitability, even if it did take 10 years to see the light of day. But there's a little more at work here than simple stoner bonding (but just a little). Like reggae, the cult of Nelson thrives on his aura of authenticity. He's not quite the Bob Marley of Austin, but sometimes people sure do treat him that way.

Sadly, "Countryman" doesn't quite jell. Produced by Don Was, who can suck the life out of pretty much anything, the blend of Western twang and island riddims never works as much as everyone thinks it does; the two sounds seem Frankensteined together.

Part of the problem is Nelson's singular voice; the flat style that works so brilliantly on, say, "Red Headed Stranger" sounds brutally off here. Toots Hibbert's still-rich tonalities and Willie's, uh, Willieness, couldn't be more at odds. Like most country classicists (even the once-progressive kind) he's best with simple melodies. One longs to hear a straight country reading of such a durable tune as "The Harder They Fall" rather than the reggaefied version. "Countryman" is an album without a country, which is too bad. No Willie, no cry.
— Joe Gross

Bobby Purify: "Better to Have It"
(Proper)

As the third man to hold the name "Bobby Purify" (the one before him was the guy who cut the stunning "I'm Your Puppet" as half of the duo James & Bobby Purify), the artist also known as Ben Moore doesn't quite have a pedigree you could call legendary or even classic. But man, can he fake it.

First, he has a voice the tonality and timbre of which is mighty tough to find in these auto-tuned, overly melismatic times. Second, he surrounded himself with genuine legends: R&B songwriter extraordinaire Dan Penn wrote all but one of the tunes, and Penn's old studio running buddies Spooner Oldham, Reggie Young, Jimmie Johnson and David Hood (aka the Muscle Shoals house band) laid down the tracks. This is old school soul music, the kind the one-named giants used to make: Otis, Aretha, Sam and Dave. Neither he nor this album are on that level, but they really don't make soul like this anymore.
— J.G.