Down country

Jason Hatfield's somber roots

Cellars by Starlight by Brett Milano

Sometimes it seems that there are no happy people in country music anymore. There's been such a fashion for somber, depressive country-inspired albums (locally from the Pernice Brothers, Cheri Knight, and most of the Slow River roster), it's easy to forget that cheap thrills are also part of the country tradition. Even no-depressive icons like George Jones, Merle Haggard, and Gram Parsons had a few shitkickers in their repertoire, though the miserable songs are usually the ones that get covered. That's why it's a shock, for instance, to hear something like "Walt Whitman's Niece," the Woody Guthrie ode to boozin', cat-housin', and carousin' that opens the new Billy Bragg/Wilco album Mermaid Avenue (Elektra): the image of alternative country has gotten so earnest (not least due to the efforts of Bragg and Wilco), one forgets that country singers have always enjoyed those sort of pursuits.

Starhustler's third album, Transamber (Dirt), does nothing to reverse the depressive country trend -- in fact, it's at least as whiny as anything named above -- but it's the kind of album that makes the whole thing worthwhile. Leader Jason Hatfield, whose sister Juliana is famous and whose first band was the Helium prototype Chupa, has long been a promising singer/songwriter, but the new album finds him hitting his stride. Not strictly a country record, Transamber is more a set of bright pop melodies dressed down in somber, rural garb -- comparisons to Dumptruck and the Blood Oranges would be apt, especially since alumni of both bands play on the album. Blood Oranges/Wooden Leg mandolin ace Jimmy Ryan and ex-Dumptruckers bassist Brian Dunton and guitarist Michael Leahy are the core band, with Letters to Cleo/Veruca Salt member Stacy Jones providing uncharacteristically subtle drums. Hatfield never quite breaks into loud electric mode, but he never downshifts into drones, either.

The album includes a trio of well-handled covers -- the bluegrass standard "Shady Grove" and a semi-twang arrangement of Bob Dylan's somber "Seven Curses" should hook anyone who's ever loved the Byrds -- plus a bunch of Hatfield songs that walk the line between melodic uplift and lyrical dread. There's always something joyful in a good pop harmony, and Hatfield's found his vocal match in Blake Hazard, whose bright tones balance his somber ones. She also does a strong, torchy turn on the disc's "Mission Hill Blues."

"I'm constitutionally incapable of writing upbeat, happy songs, and I wish I could, because nobody really wants to hear this whiny, pitiful shit," Hatfield says over the phone from his current home in Brattleboro, Vermont. "I mean, I want to hear it myself. I go out and listen to people like Elliot Smith and play Nick Drake records. But I can't imagine anyone else wanting to. But I can't write happy songs or fast songs. I've tried and it comes out sounding like run-of-the-mill punk pop. Not that anybody wants to listen to my songs, anyway. I've kind of given up on writing songs that I hope people will hear, because I don't think that's ever going to happen. Now I just write for the hell of it."

All right, so Hatfield's self-depreciating streak is wider than most. He even gave the last Starhustler album the buzz-killing title Vapid Drivel (Dirt). That album was where he found his country direction, after a moody pop debut made up partly of Chupa demos (1995's Mendicant).

"That may have something to do with my redneck roots," he jokes. "My dad always claimed that we're related to the Hatfields, as in the Hatfields and the McCoys. Maybe he's on to something there. The other reason is that I was living in Oregon, and there's a lot of great bluegrass musicians out there. That got me listening to Hazel Dickens and Flatt & Scruggs, and that found its way into songs I wrote. The other reason is that I picked up a banjo and started playing in this fun, amateurish bluegrass band out there. A lot of bluegrass songs are pretty upbeat-sounding, but they tell really bleak tales of hard living. Not that I want to claim any bluegrass credibility."

Transamber was recorded 18 months ago, and Hatfield has already completed a follow-up, which he describes as more "folkish." But he's not sure whether that will be the next Starhustler release. He spent the past year at the School for International Training in Brattleboro, where he's involved with a community development project in Nepal. He plans to spend the next few months in Boston relaunching the band, then head abroad to resume the work. "I want to do the band full time, but there's another part of me that wants to study foreign languages and work abroad. I've always had a split-personality thing going on."

The other reason for Hatfield's career swings is one he's gone public with just lately: he has a long history with manic depression. In the past year he's been taking medication to keep it under control, but all three Starhustler albums were made before that.

"It does seem there's a connection between having bipolar disorder and feeling these emotions and needing to get them out in the songs," he admits. "I had really drastic mood swings -- actually both extremes lent themselves really well to songwriting, as long as I didn't let myself get completely out of control and incapacitated. Then I couldn't do anything but sleep and sit in my room. The other part of the illness is always needing to make a new start, the way I periodically need to change myself and my surroundings."

Which lends credence to the age-old theory that people with messed-up lives write better songs. "That's true, and it's tempting sometimes to want to be close to the edge," says Hatfield. "But I'd rather not push my luck at this point."

BOSTON UNDERBELLY

The first couple of times I played my advance copy of Sublingual Records' compilation Boston Underbelly, it crashed my computer -- and given the amount of musical disturbance on this disc, I wonder whether that wasn't the point. Founded this year by Saturnalia member Jonathan LaMaster, the label intends to spotlight the "none of the above" side of local music. As such, the bands on Boston Underbelly fit with one another by virtue of not fitting anywhere else. The one big-name guest -- Sonic Youth's Thurston Moore -- makes the shortest appearance: his "Sensational Fix" is simply two minutes of extreme feedback. More welcome is a lengthy improv from Binary System, the piano/drums duo of Roger Miller and Larry Dersh, who find room for both their rock and their avant tendencies. Perhaps the most surprising thing here, Saturnalia's "Agropolitan," starts out sounding like a long-lost jam between Yoko Ono and the Residents but resolves in a most unlikely banjo workout. In a more wholesome vein, the instrumental band Mile Wide do a nice mix of soundtrack kitsch and left-field chord changes: their "Emerson's Lake" isn't the ELP tribute that the title leads you to expect but a fractured surf instrumental. And keyboardist Andrew Neumann has a sound you might call retro-futurist. His electronic music recalls the early work of Kraftwerk and Tangerine Dream, when the synths were more primitive and the future shock was more severe. Also notable is the CD cover, which shows two of Boston's most ubiquitous sights: the subway system and Billy Ruane dancing.

KOOPER SESSION

You can't say that rock veteran Al Kooper, who hit Boston this year to begin teaching at Berklee, isn't making a local impression. In the past week alone I've seen him thanked on stage at the Marcia Ball/Irma Thomas/Tracy Nelson show at Berklee (they did a song he'd recommended to them) and saw him sit in with Memphis songwriters Dan Penn and Spooner Oldham at the Paradise. Opening for Nick Lowe, the Penn/Oldham duo played stripped-down versions of hits they'd written for other artists in the '60s. Penn may not be as good a singer as he is a writer, but his voice has the mix of dignity and vulnerability that his lyrics call for. The heroes in his "I'm Your Puppet" and "Cry like a Baby" (respective hits for James & Bobby Pourify and the Box Tops) are about as vulnerable as you can get. The duo's best-known numbers -- "A Woman Left Lonely" (recorded by Janis Joplin) and "Do Right Woman, Do Right Man" (recorded by lots of people) -- are pleas for lovers to treat each other right. Playing guitar instead of his usual keyboards, Kooper came on stage in time to add graceful accompaniment to "Dark End of the Street," a vintage cheating song that probably gets played more often now than it did in the '60s. He also contributed to their one novelty song, "Memphis Women & Fried Chicken," on which he provided the requisite chicken-cluck licks. And he sang the grown-up rocker's blues on "Going, Going, Gone," a new song he wrote with Penn.

Lowe's headline set rocked more than you might have expected from his recent albums. He did the moody ballads he's recorded lately, but he also went back to rowdier days for "Crackin' Up" (which sounds less humorous than it used to) and "Half a Boy & Half a Man." And if you hung out until the encore, you got to see Penn and Oldham join him for "You Better Move On," a great song of girlfriend envy that the Rolling Stones covered in the '60s.

COMING UP

Absolutely killer four months ago, ? and the Mysterians are back for another go-round at the Middle East tonight (Thursday) with openers the Prissteens, Fathoms, and the Brood. Also tonight, A.C. (so called because we can't say Anal Cunt) are upstairs at the Middle East, and Robert Fripp protégés the California Guitar Trio are at Johnny D's . . . Tomorrow (Friday) it's the Figgs at T.T. the Bear's Place, Hank headlining Mama Kin, El Camino at Bill's Bar, and Down Low Connection at the Middle East . . . On Saturday the Strangemen host a Fourth of July bash at the Lizard Lounge, Shadow Falls are at the Middle East, and Krebstar are at Mama Kin . . . Honkyball play the Middle East on Sunday . . . The Average White Band hit the House of Blues Tuesday . . . And on Wednesday, Austin guitar great Jimmie Vaughan plays the Roxy with jazz-blues guy Olu Dara opening, and Trona and Drugstore are at T.T.'s.