Uncle Tupelo, 89/93: An Anthology (Sony/Legacy Recordings)
Reviewed by Michial Farmer

It's ridiculous at this point to say that Uncle Tupelo was important in the formation and renovation of the lagging late '80s/early '90s country scene; you may as well say that the Pope is Catholic or that cigarettes cause cancer. And while Tupelo are by no means the grandfathers or even the fathers of the alternative country movement-these honors belong to Gram Parsons and Jason and the Scorchers, respectively-they impacted said movement in ways too drastic and numerous to be avoided. The obvious observation is that, in addition to the scene's greatest magazine being named in honor of the group's 1990 debut, No Depression, the scene itself was rechristened likewise. Uncle Tupelo is, indeed, indispensable-no music collector, writer, or historian could possibly be taken seriously without owning gems like March 16-20, 1992 or the aforementioned No Depression.

Of course, Rod Stewart is "indispensable" as well-a label slapped on almost any artist who makes it past his third record-and I sure as hell listen to Anodyne more than Every Picture Tells a Story. It's easy to point out that Tupelo never did a song like "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?" but somewhat harder to put into the fickle English language exactly what makes, say, "Gun" better than an admitted classic like "Maggie May." Western, individualistic American that I am, I'm opting for personal experience.

My path to Tupelo is certainly not unique, not among my age group and social bracket anyway (we're either too young or too rich to have seen them in some smoky, alcohol-soaked club in 1991, and far too ignorant of music history to own the records they were listening to). No, I somehow stumbled upon Wilco's Summerteeth upon its release-if you've made it this far, you doubtless know the Tupelo/Wilco/Son Volt connection-and was enamored. "I'm Always in Love," of course, became my theme song, and I even began to buy those ridiculously overpriced, three-song "import singles" for "A Shot in the Arm" (parts one and two!) and "Can't Stand It" (only part two, I'm afraid. I picked it up on a vacation to Disneyworld along with R.E.M.'s "Suspicion." Then I promptly got on the wrong bus and took two hours to get back to my hotel).

Summerteeth's lush, layered chamber pop is, of course, remarkably different than Tupelo's basically-and occasionally literally-live-in-the-studio records, and, indeed, I recall being less than thrilled with No Depression upon my first listen. And Jeff Tweedy appeared to be taking a backseat (!!!) to this "Farrar" guy (I incorrectly pronounced it "FAR-rer" for years)-a songwriter like Jeff Tweedy, taking a backseat to anyone! In retrospect it's quite evident why: Tweedy's songs on No Depression-aside from the blistering, raging "Train"-are far below the heights he would reach with Wilco and even later Tupelo albums. Farrar though…he sounds like he means it, filtering every bitter/desperate/hopeless/hopeful word through that mangled, off-key, start-and-stop voice of his!

What eventually won me over was "Graveyard Shift," the album opener; it was a combination of that hi-hat Mike Heidorn has to be on the verge of breaking from riding it so hard, and the way Farrar's and Tweedy's voices blend on the second verse-"A man in a tie'll bum your dime 'fore he'll break his twenty dollar bill," they sing-shout in union, and I was hooked.

From there it was March 16-20, 1992-as different from No Depression as one could get and still recognize the band. Most of the songs weren't even theirs (at least not by name; it'd be fairly easy to argue that Tupelo's delivery of old standards like "Coalminers" and "Lilli Schull" earned them at least temporary ownership), and those raging Sid Vicious guitars that had so defined/pigeonholed the "Uncle Tupelo sound" were gone without a trace, replaced by what sounds at times like about a million acoustic strings, be they guitar, banjo, or that freaked-out bouzouki that steals the show in Tweedy's bizarre rendition of "Satan, Your Kingdom Must Come Down." And this time it was the record's last line that made me a believer, Farrar groaning "Ain't it hard when the Spirit doesn't catch you? / Gravity's the winner and it weighs you down" before letting it all fade to black in a cadence I've never really gotten over.

I can't really remember which came next-Anodyne or Still Feel Gone-though I recall that I received the former for my eighteenth birthday. These two mean admittedly less to me than does the other half of Tupelo's catalogue, but both of the albums have their share of classics. Anodyne's got some of Tweedy's best pre-Being There songwriting, including "We've Been Had"-maybe rock and roll's not all it's cracked up to be, and that's a bold, bold statement from someone who believes in it as much as Jeffrey Scott Tweedy-and "New Madrid," certainly the bounciest pop song ever written about earthquakes. Still Feel Gone, on the other hand, clocks in with two of Farrar's finest ballads: "Still Be Around" and the Springsteen tribute "True to Life."

That brings us up to the present, I think, since I never bought the singles for "I Got Drunk," "Sin City," or "Sauget Wind." The first three Uncle Tupelo albums, originally released on Rockville Records, are tragically out-of-print (at Amazon.com, I found March 16-20, 1992 going for well over $30). In addition, both Farrar and Tweedy claim to have never received a penny of the royalties from the albums. The good news is that the records are being re-released with bonus tracks and the usual rigamarole. The cynic in me says that the record I'm allegedly reviewing here has been produced solely to garner publicity for these re-releases, but the honest-to-God music fan in me prefers to believe that Sony/Legacy wants to make more honest-to-God music fans, regardless of how many records they push in the deal.

Yes, Anthology is packaged like a greatest-hits album (I'll let someone else expound upon the ironies of that particular label when applied to a band like Uncle Tupelo), though there are a few outtakes a rarities here to attract collectors and longtime fans: a demo version of "Outdone," a surreal, country cover of the Stooges classic "I Wanna Be Your Dog," a nice Nebraska-influenced acoustic-guitar-and-harmonica take of "Looking For a Way Out," etc. Most of the greatest hits omissions can be chalked up to personal preferences, and unsurprisingly, most of them revolve around March 16-20, 1992, a record with too many perfect songs to be chopped up and anthologized-"Fatal Wound" over "Wait Up"? "Moonshiner" over "Criminals" or "Shaky Ground"? And where the hell is "Wipe the Clock," unquestionably Jay Farrar's best song and quite possibly alt. country's? Such qualms are inevitable when dealing with a band like this, though, and I forgive Sony's faults because their intentions were good, and because the final product is likely perfect to everyone but me.

And God bless Sony, for making this music available to the masses. And God bless Tupelo, for making it available in the first place. And God hopefully bless me, for sitting up past 2 a.m. for three consecutive nights writing this "review" on dingy, yellowed hotel stationary. I did it for love, which is all I know for sure Uncle Tupelo can claim.

TRACK LISTING:

1) No Depression (No Depression)
2) Screen Door (ND)
3) Graveyard Shift (ND)
4) Whiskey Bottle (ND)
5) Outdone (1989 Demo) (Not Forever, Just For Now)
6) I Got Drunk (I Got Drunk)
7) I Wanna Be Your Dog (previously unreleased)
8) Gun (Still Feel Gone)
9) Still Be Around (SFG)
10) Looking For a Way Out (Acoustic Version) (Sauget Wind)
11) Watch Me Fall (SFG)
12) Sauget Wind (SW)
13) Black Eye (March 16-20, 1992)
14) Moonshiner (March 16)
15) Fatal Wound (March 16)
16) Grindstone (March 16)
17) Effigy (No Alternative)
18) The Long Cut (Anodyne)
19) Chickamauga (Anodyne)
20) New Madrid (Anodyne)
21) We've Been Had (Anodyne)