Crime Show

"Always be ready to speak your mind, and a base man will avoid you" - William Blake, The Proverbs of Hell

Now and then a record comes along that can help you through those uphill days like a stout stick or a trusty friend. You can put it on and press forward, reassured that you’re not alone in this fight. As a fan of the vast catalog of The Modern Folk, I anticipated enjoying this latest album but didn’t know I’d be leaning on it. If asked to explain The Modern Folk or the many variations thereof, I would be relieved to be able to introduce J Moss, the man behind the moniker. Folk music is the sound of the people and J is certainly one of us, a Virginia native, gone, like so many, to the West, but with the Blue Ridge- its hills, dales, hardships, and rhythms- embedded in his work. But this is MODERN Folk and J often leans into the Modern with his electrical bands and synthesizers while still making music of the people. Here, J presents The Modern Folk as a vehicle for what he describes as a “singer-songwriter album”. Intimately familiar with the format, I leapt at the chance to listen and was struck, once again, by the weight of J’s vision. No punches are pulled in these songs. No notes are wasted. Aside from three brief interlude tracks that serve as curtains to each of the album’s acts, and the ethereal saxophone/guitar duet, “Rural Street”, there are no extended ride-outs, freak-outs, or jams. This is not to say there isn’t lovely music here. Pedal steel, electric guitars, keyboards, saxophone, and fiddle deliver instrumental goodness adjoining the vivid truths in each song. Sonically, the songs set themselves apart , alternating between fingerpicked and strummed acoustic guitars or gone electric and either roiling with overdrive or grooving with a bit of twang. The album opens with a splash of electric guitar and a backbeat, deftly bent into an Appalachian holler that might have fit nicely on Beck’s “One Foot In The Grave”. Wry lyrics abound, weaving tales of doom, resignation, and the practical conflicts of American life. “I’m Sick But I’m Working Anyhow” is crushingly real, plaintively expressing the workers’ plight with a lovely accompaniment. The album is called “Serf Punk” after all. Each tune shimmers with its own energy and wit but, taken as a whole, the album is a ride into a dark hollow of America that is inescapable even while everyone pretends not to notice. Most of us plain folk have a wheel or two in one of these ruts. With a little effort and some good tunes like these to fuel our hearts, we just might make it over the next ridge.

-JM hart