Us pernickety reviewers certainly prefer our Americana heroes on the raw'n'real side, but it seems you'd have to scour the States pretty closely to unearth a performer more authentic than OTIS GIBBS.
Hailing from Wanamaker, Indiana, our Otis has done his hard dues-paying doing everything from flipping burgers and pumping gas to dropping out and riding freight trains across the country in true hobo style. Since a love for Henry Miller and Lawrence Ferlinghetti inspired him to begin writing the hard-hitting (and often wholly heartbreaking) tales of the downtrodden he specialises in, he's played anti-war protests in everywhere from Texas to Austria and the Czech Republic, relentlessly representing those without a voice. He's the real, protest-singin' deal, cut from a durable cloth the original, trailblazing mavericks like Pete Seeger would surely approve of.
If all this wasn't enough (hard)living to last most of us several lifetimes of blood and toil, Gibbs' new album 'Grandpa Walked A Picketline' arrives on the back of several lo-budget, but critically-acclaimed albums like '49th & Melancholy' and 2004's recommended 'One Day Our Whispers' which shares a similar anti-war slant to the work Jefferson Pepper has hit us with so effectively in recently times.
'Grandpa Walked A Picketline', though, is as good an introduction to Gibbs' work as you could hope for. It pulls precious few emotional punches, comes crammed with heart-rending confessionals and allies them with vivid, semi-acoustic backdrops featuring an impressive supporting cast including bassist Don Dixon (REM, Let's Active)and pedal steel maestro Al Perkins (Flying Burrito Brothers), not to mention a production team of The dB's Chris Stamey and Motown engineer Bob Ohlsson.
If this all sounds like a roots-rock team made in heaven, well the end result's not far south of it. Opening song 'Caroline' gives you some idea what to expect: the sound of blue-collar dysfunctionality writ large. The song's protagonist tells of a woman in an abusive relationship trying to break out against the odds (“at 16 she was wedded, he was 24/ the cheques were small and the debts were large”), yet she fears her children will suffer a similar fate. It's achingly sad, yet beautifully observed and delivered to perfection by Gibbs' cracked, grainy vocal.
Thrillingly, it's the start of a string of fantastic, resonant songs. Mostly, Gibbs champions those society has long since written off, such as the homeless (the fiery, acoustic 'Sometimes Angels') and those living a hand-to-mouth existence of all varieties (the fast-paced, faith-testing blues of 'Damn Me'). Often, Gibbs' own experiences of the seamier side of the American dream are recalled with starkness and clarity, not least on the magnificent 'Long Black Thunder', which is a highly authentic box car blues full of images of personal hell (“I sleep with torn-off pieces of burlap stuffed in my ears...rest my head on a wadded-up jacket as morning draws near”) most of us are fortunate enough never to have to even contemplate.
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Even if the characters peopling Gibbs songs ARE actually working and attempting to function in something akin to normal society, they're usually carrying a heavy load and love comes to them at a price. The tearjerkin' 'Beto Junction”s observations of a long-distance trucker going nowhere professionally and personally can't fail to move even the hardest heart. 'Honey Please' finds Gibbs resigned to the fact his girl “treats me like a disease” and marries it to blasted country soul lifted by Perkins' stunning steel playing and the swaggering railroad rockabilly of 'Preacher Steve' is dark, hilarious (“he's got one hand openin' the Bible and the other's reachin' in your purse”) and tragic in roughly equal proportions.
If pushed, this reviewer would probably choose 'To Anyone' as his favourite track. Coming armed with a world-weary chorus of “calling out tonight to anyone who's tired of being down”, its' universal theme of men and women struggling to overcome their difficulties never goes out of fashion and the fact the band work up a backdrop with trace elements of the early Burritos gritty country-soul does no harm at all.
Ultimately, though, 'Grandpa Walked A Picktline' displays precious few weak links. Its' author pens courageus and beautifully poised songs tackling the plight of society's most marginalised and vulnerable and they're songs that really need to be heard. The album closes with an Appalachian-style funeral blues called 'Bury Me On A Rainy Day' and one of its' lines (“there lies a good man, in a world that has few”) supplies a suitable conclusion. Otis Gibbs is clearly one of the good guys, so it's safe to put your trust in him.
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