The water is wide

Drowning With Land In Sight - The 77's (1994)

It is no original thought that, somehow, from the bitter wreckage of failed relationships have come some epic albums.

It's a dangerous high-wire, of course. If unrestrained, the cauldron of emotion can easily swell with embarassing results. In the precise hands of a capable artist, however, the culminating work can be challenging, refreshing and most beautiful.

Bob Dylan's Blood On The Tracks, (1975), and Fleetwood Mac's Rumours, (1977), are famous examples of the latter. Adam Again's Perfecta, (1995), and the 77's 1994 effort, Drowning With Land In Sight, are more obscure instances where the rawness of emotion, that potent mix of anger and loss, have been skillfully distilled into something altogether more beautiful than a painful send-off or a confused picking up of the pieces.

In Drowning, Michael Roe examines the shambles of whatever had passed through his life with a brutal, yet refreshing honesty, in an album that, while at times is as hard as the 77's have ever sounded, finds an effective balance between impassioned rockers and mournful ballads.

Roe reveals his hand straight up with the opening track, a remarkably faithful cover of Led Zeppelin's arrangement of Blind Willie Johnson's "Nobody's Fault But Mine", (95/100). The guitars grunt and spit over an exasperated vocal lamenting one's own failings. It's a suitably seismic kickoff, featuring outstanding harmonica work on the instrumental bridge from 2:56.

"Snowblind", (85), is not a Black Sabbath cover, rather its own frustrated dirge, an invasive spotlight on an unhinged state of mind. The song rumbles along with appropriately chaotic guitars, casting the listener, willing or not, into the stormy midst of the song's own rattled existence.

The bassline on "Snake", (93), literally slithers. Meanwhile, lyrical venom is delivered alternately (and sometimes simultaneously) with a cold apathy and an inflamed intensity that serves nimbly the purpose of making listeners' skin crawl. It's a slippery, yet expertly executed, diversion from relationship wreckage to a place infinitely darker and that much more frightening. Roe himself introduces a video for the song here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aAxgDX9ZrOA.

Next, "Indian Winter", (75), fashions a decidedly Eastern rhythm into a guitar riff, while wistfully invoking a Native American raindance to chase away the blues. Then the hard licks and virulence are traded for breezy SoCal melodies on "Film At 11", (90), one of Drowning's stand-out tracks. "Mezzo", (90), is a beautiful instrumental; not hard, not soft, just nice.

"Cold Cold Night", (96), (http://www.mediafire.com/?nydsyopwt8f8nnt), is a slow-burning Rolling Stones-tinged lick, as the album returns to the hard side for a last-gasp plea at reconciliation. The guitar solo at the song's end, especially from 5:25, drops my jaw to this day, no matter how many times I hear it.

Also on the list of things that can provoke an angry response is a health scare. David Leonhardt of The Strawmen was playing guitar for the 77's at the time he was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Disease. "Dave's Blues", (85), is a gut-level expression of that, though slightly censored by the record company. "Sounds O' Autumn," (66), signals the cry of war drums for nearly two minutes, while simultaneously signalling an end to Drowning's rockers.

"The Jig Is Up", (77), is the start of a trio of ballads that wind down the album. "Jig", while pushing the borders of self-pity as far as this album dares, still sounds epic thanks to the continued presence of war drums and guitars as majestic as if at the summit of some Himalayan beast. Good that the guitars can be up there, even when the subject matter can't. Roe's trademark playful lyrics highlight both it and "Alone Together", (83), a jaunty pop song with a strong vocal performance and a guitar so precise not a note is wasted.

The album ends strong with "For Crying Out Loud", (95), (http://www.mediafire.com/?3tqu3ow6nud61qo), a song only written and included at the record company's insistence that there be something "positive" on it. Tom Petty once wrote "Some days are diamonds, some days are rocks." Phil Madeira wrote, "Life's a wicked job but someone's got to do it. When it gets rock hard, you've got to chisel through it." This song gropes down that same dusk road trying to figure how to go on when there's no reason to.

The beauty of this album is in the warts-and-all honesty of its presentation. The artists involved cannot be accused of hiding and the naked heart is perhaps the world's rarest resource.

Drowning With Land In Sight (album): 86/100.