(****) A decade ago, it looked like Chuck Prophet was finished. The former golden boy of seminal American alt-country, retro-rock stars Green On Red was hooked on crack and unravelling fast. Now, fully detoxed, Prophet has just made his acting debut in the cult movie Revolution Summer, and with his eighth solo album turned in the best work of his career. The rockier songs are reminiscent of late-'80s Rolling Stones and new wave-era Tom Petty. But best of all is Would You Love Me?, the most elegiac country-rock ballad since Ryan Adams's Gold.

(****) Plucked from Berkeley obsurity in the mid-'80s by psychedelic cowboys Green On Red, Chuck Prophet was always a gifted rapier to lead singer Dan Stuart's yeoman bludgeon. His Richard Thompson-indebted Telecaster squalls have subsequently decorated a litany of creditable solo albums of which this latest may well be the finest. Recorded in Nashville with innumerable guests, Soap And Water runs the gamut of Prophet's influences, from Bob Dylan (Naked Ray) to Alex Chilton (Let's Do Something Wrong) and the Stones (Soap And Water), all of it delievered with a quixotic swagger and Prophet's declamatory sneer of a voice. His quicksilver fretwork still impresses - especially on the Television-like stomper Freckle Song, though the stand-out track is the burnished, redemptive ballad Would You Love Me, replete with a Methodist children's choir and a counterpoint melody that could melt the stoniest heart.

(****) The eighth solo studio album from Californian singer, songwriter and guitarist Chuck Prophet oozes character and confidence. Prophet's delectable guitar work and world-weary but sharply expressive vocals, along with backing from his own outfit the Mission Express and guests the Spinto Band, ensure that these tracks are packed with rich, flavoursome detail. Brad Jone's intelligent production has brought a dustily textured finish to the album; this brooding, sun baked sound is the perfect compliment to Prophet's casually memorable way with words. But despite an overriding sense of direction and coherence, SOAP AND WATER never once threatens to fall back on basic sylistic similarity to keep its twelve tracks knitted together. Each song brings with it a genuine feeling of discovery, from the witty, infectious country-rock opener Freckle Song with it's irresistible twang and punchy rhythm section, to Happy Ending, a subtly shaded and atmospheric rootsy number that provides a gently philosophical conclusion.

The most innovative moment of all comes with All Over You, a sublime blend of heady dance beats and earthy guitar-based Americana. Led by Prophet's captivating vocals - nonchalant one minute, exhilarating the next - it layers into the mix a bewildering number of additional ingredients, from ominous strings and twinkly percussive effects to the improbably successful use of a children's church choir. There is simplicity too; in the form of the dreamy, sinuous ballad Would You Love Me, and its delicate arrangement featuring distant, angelic backing voices and haunting, understated farmonica. A dryly effective female guest vocalist joins Prophet to exchange the clever lyrics of Soap an Water, an angular blues-rock foot-tapper, while taut blues rhythms also form the basis of the intricate but exuberant Down Time, a hugely enjoyable paean to getting away from it all. 'A woman's voice can drug you like an AM radio/Like a motorcycle preacher/Like a Sunday far from home', these vocals warn Prophet on A Woman's Voice, at times tapping into a near Dylan-esque drawl, The song's effect is hypnotic, driven by a smouldering slide guitar groove, and its strolling pace builds to a euphoric, bluesy sing-along chorus.

Chuck Prophet's last solo album may have appeared three years ago - he has since toured Europe with a revived incarnation of his former band Green On Red, collaborated with Kelly Willis and made his cinematic acting debut - but the wait has proved worthwhile. Charming, fiercely imaginative and brilliantly executed, this is contemporary roots-rock of the highest quality. A European tour is planned in support of SOAP AND WATER during September and October, which will surely demonstrate the vitality of these songs in a live setting.

JUNGLE JIM AND THE VOODOO TIGER
Jim Dickinson

Nostalgia ain't what it used to be. Dwelling on the glories of the past, whatever the decade currently in fashion, pales before the glories of the present with its paradigm shifts and all-access Internet. One thing I do miss in the recent and current decade is "characters": that is, people who don't fall into types; folks who by dint of intelligence, mixed with experience and a unique vision of the world, carve out a personal place in it--men like Jim Dickinson.

It would be easy to write him off as a mere roots-rock legend. The legend would start at the Sound of Memphis Studio in the late Sixties, where, with Charley Freeman, Tommy McClure, and Sammy Creason, he formed the rhythm section known as the "Dixie Flyers." The Flyers moved to Miami, Florida, as the Atlantic Records house band backing such artists as Aretha Franklin, Sam & Dave, and Jerry Jeff Walker. After leaving the Flyers, Dickinson returned to Memphis, and began a producing career, working with Ry Cooder and Big Star. His work with the latter no doubt appealed to later clients like Green On Red, and The Replacements. And, oh yeah, Dickinson recorded "Wild Horses" with the Rolling Stones.

In true "character" fashion, these facts don't begin to sum up the man. You might be surprised that he studied drama at Baylor University--unless you thought about it for a minute. He has released two solo records before this as James Luther Dickinson, thirty years apart (take that, T Bone). The more recent, 2002's Free Beer Tomorrow, contains a song, "Ballad of Billy and Oscar," about an imagined meeting between Billy the Kid and Oscar Wilde, written by the art critic Dave Hickey. Starting to get the picture? Pigeonholing just don't work here.

Jungle Jim and the Voodoo Tiger continues in the spirit of both the legend and the character. Having raised his own band (sons Luther and Cody Dickinson of the North Mississippi Allstars) he employs them here on a romp through tunes that suit his style. One of the signs of a true character is that they can take a song that has been done to death, like Terry Fell's "Truck Drivin' Man," and inject new life into it--and not just by adding a hardly heard verse. Rarely writing his own songs, Dickinson always includes a Bob Frank tune, here opening with a rendition of "Redneck, Blue Collar," a vision of the workingman as hard to pin down as James Luther himself. The late Eddie Hinton helps Dickinson and company define Southern soul with his "Can't Beat the Kid." Chuck Prophet, one of the few new characters to emerge in the last twenty years, contributes a tender ballad, "Somewhere Down the Road."

With a voice that is more gruff attitude than mellifluous melisma, Jim Dickinson demonstrates that attitude is enough if you have the goods to back it up. Ask fellow characters like Bob Dylan, Ry Cooder, and Keith Richard--they will testify that the man has the goods in spades.

The back cover of his new album, "Soap and Water", pictures Chuck Prophet in hipster-bohemian uniform (bedhead hairdo, canvas sneakers) haunting an empty laundromat. It’s a fitting image for his songs of poisoned love, in which every rake inevitably gets his lonely comeuppance - even Elvis Presley, who watches his female fans toss him their undergarments only to tell himself, "They’ll forget me when I’m gone."

Singer and songwriter Chuck Prophet has been ahead of the curve since his days with the devilishly cagey Green On Red. His latest solo album, the delightful Soap and Water, is another dance away from anything obvious, done so casually that he makes originality seem simple.

Prophet is the ultimate alternative hybridist. He uses rock 'n' roll as a foundation, tossing in tricks and treats snipped from all manner of musical genres. Smart arrangements play with cliches - orchestras, children's choirs - yet somehow remain original, big and sweeping, embellishing the songs instead of overpowering them.

The heart of Soap and Water is Prophet's skill as lyricist. He is a manipulator of metaphor and novelistic detail, a master at the art of making unease seem soothing through his congenial singing and wry, subtle sense of humor. Understatement has rarely been overstated so well.

Chuck Prophet's seventh album arrives after 12 years as a solo artist, peaking with his 2002 "adult alternative" single, "Summertime Thing." This go 'round promises to raise the San Franciscan's profile even higher, as he raises the bar with a mix of blues ("Automatic Blues"), funk, psychedelic pop ("Age of Miracles") and country rock.

Prophet's signature drone tumbles out Lou Reed - ish poetic ramblings on "You Did (Bomp Shooby Dooby Bomp)," while wife Stephanie Finch lays down retro vintage keyboard parts. The combination is wistful, like someone mulling over the events of a long night in the city's dark watering holes while riding a near-empty late-night bus home. Players hail from Nashville, San Francisco and points between, creating an album that's crafted, modern and full of fine writing and melody, but not without its roots.

Valley Fever - Green On Red Live at the Rialto

"Downwardly mobile ambitions" - that’s how writer Fred Mills described the music of Green On Red, the Southwestern band that became an underground sensation in Europe during the eighties. The band was among a handful of progenitors of the eclipsed "desert rock" sound, which blended elements of country with a frenetic, edgy guitar sound a la Neil Young.

Starting in 1980, the band released 11 albums, toured relentlessly, and experienced immense burnout throughout a 12-year career that included its share of lineup changes, business squabbles and drug/alcohol addiction. Singer, guitarist, songwriter Dan Stuart could be the poster child for musicians stuck between cult status and overblown celebrity.

Valley Fever is a serendipitous document of a one-off reunion of the group paying tribute to drummer Alex MacNicol, who died in 2004. Stuart and his mates Chris Cacavas (keyboards), Chuck Prophet (guitar), and Jack Waterson (bass) enlisted the help of some Brazilian tourists with video cameras to film the show. Surprisingly, the film work is first-rate. Instead of the standard shaky-cam shots that more often show the stage lights than the band, the turistas.com cameras capture extraordinary frames of the members that show grudging appreciation of each other and at other times facial expressions that indicate the opening of old wounds from being on stage again.

The focus is on Stuart, Prophet and Waterson as they jam with casual abandon while Cacavas and hired gun Daren Hess on drums are the subjects of two shots while they pound out some spiritually energizing rhythms throughout. As with any film, it’s the small details that really make the characters stand out, and Valley Fever has a number of moments that illuminate us into the group’s dynamic. Among the best are Stuart grabbing and mangling his lyric cheat sheets after each song, and foisting them gently into the audience, as if they were dry tumbleweeds being carried off by a dusty wind.

Musically, the band is brilliant. Green On Red was never known for theatrics or technical precision, instead plying a sloppy, self-deprecating style that heightened the bands’ status as rock anti-heroes. Anyone familiar with the band knows Stuart hates live performances, especially in theatres. Yet, his hatred of performance enhances the lazy attack of guitar chords that solidified his reputation in the first place. Prophet plays against Stuart’s minimalist approach with some shrapnel-spewing lead work accompanied by Waterson’s lively bass. This mélange supporting Stuart’s lachrymose words leads to an exalted concert experience.

While Mills was spot-on about Green On Red’s "downwardly mobile ambitions", Valley Fever proves why the group surpassed its own expectations on a path littered with eighties bands that never found their potential. While the Rialto concert is a fitting tribute to a fallen comrade, Valley Fever is homage to what Green On Red might have been.

Chuck Prophet has come a long way from his "paisley underground" years as a lead guitarist for Green On Red with whom he recorded eight albums. Age of Miracles is his seventh solo effort and the musical territory Prophet explores here has, again, widened from the country/rock area he hailed from since his musical beginnings to soul, funk, hip-hop and industrial noise. Prophet as the producer of the album, the main guitar player and the singer and songwriter could not have put his signature down more clearly, but co-producer Eric Drew Feldman (Captain Beefheart, Frank Black, PJ Harvey) has certainly not just been another fiddler on the knobs. He helped to drag Prophet out of a creational and inspirational impasse and added some crucial sounds on his Moog synthesizer on a couple of tracks.

The general mood on Age of Miracles shows a certain gloomy likeness to Static Transmission, the 2003 album of another ex-paisley undergrounder, Steve Wynn (The Dream Syndicate). Both musicians have matured into independent, individualist musicians who almost never do what you expect them to do. With this release, Chuck Prophet continues the path he has chosen with The Hurting Business (2000) and No Other Love (2002), at the same time carefully trying to avoid repeating himself. The outcome is an album that is hard to fall in love with immediately, but that if you continue to play it nevertheless, suddenly seems to creep up behind you and hit you over the head with all its might and nastiness. This effect has a lot to do with the arrangement and the production that are "subliminally mean" rather than straightforward: something evil is hiding under the surface and you can't smell it right away.

The same is true for the lyrics.

Sometimes I feel so alive/ I wish I was dead, Prophet growls in the opener "Automatic Blues" against a backdrop of blazing horns. There is something terrifying in the air, something that you feel listening to Iggy Pop's The Idiot or Lou Reed's Berlin.

Lou Reed's presence is hovering throughout whole album including the title track, a sluggishly moving song with heavy string arrangement (Jason Borger) and female backing vocals (provided by Prophet's wife Stephanie Finch):

The night is gonna crush the day
Once it was the other way
We hope that you enjoy your stay
In the age of miracles.

Prophet is accompanied on pedal steel in "The Smallest Man in the World" and it sounds good, but it's a song with a weird lyrical twist underlined by Feldman's piano playing that seems to quote from Newman's "Little People" ­ know what I mean? "Whatever he does, he's the smallest man in the world" and that is not good news.

"Just to See You Smile" continues in the Lou Reed groove, but this time with an almost Phil Spector-like orchestration complete with booming bass, glockenspiel and a whole girl choir. Prophet immediately wipes the smile off any listener's face with "West Memphis Moon," the tragic story of the West Memphis Three, three young men who were convicted for murder of three boys in 1994, one of them sentenced to death, even though the evidence was, to say the least, questionable.

There's a melancholy country feel about "You've Got Me Where you Want Me," a duet with Stephanie Finch co-written by Kim Richey. Richey also contributed to "Baby Pin a Rose on Me," which turns out to be about an abusive relationship:

You saw a light
I saw a freight train coming
I tried to tell you he was no damn good
You heard bells, I heard the hammer falling.
He ran you down like I said he would.

"A man's strength is on the insidebut you better be careful with this stuff," Prophet warns in "Heavy Duty," a weird and frightening song (co-written with D. (Dan?) Penn), that sounds like Depeche Mode in their darkest period battling it out with Doug Sahm.

The closer "Solid Gold" (again featuring Stephanie Finch on vocals) is another song reminiscent of Lou Reed's Berlin-period, with a very soulful, delicate string arrangement.

I wanna raise a toast to everyone
to my friends near and far
I wanna raise a toast to stand up men
Wherever you are
I wanna raise a toast to you my love
For putting up a fight
Then I'm gonna raise my glass again, for you and you alone
on this star- crossed night.

I drink to that. Not every song on Age of Miracles is equally convincing, but it is an album that will make you feel as if you have just been crushed by a truck. That's not a feeling you want to have every day, but sometimes it helps to make you enjoy every day life a little bit more.

He made his first blip on the roots-rock radar as the guitarist with Green on Red, an early '90s alt-country band that fell apart just as the genre was gaining traction. Seven solo albums later, the California-bred singer-songwriter has become a bit of a critic's darling; scoring the opening slot on Lucinda Williams' tour last year certainly helped his cause. Like John Hiatt and Ron Sexsmith, Prophet's one of those not-easy-to-categorize talents whose passion for sonic experimentation has him throwing all kinds of styles into the mix. His latest CD, Age of Miracles (New West), is grounded in the same country/folk soil as his other records, but with a distinctly quasi-psychedelic vibe. Here, Prophet melds literate pop-rock with country-roots realism, wah-wah guitars, blues riffs and sometimes sandpapery vocals. Wildly divergent, yes, but wonderfully so.