Loudon Wainwright III, The BlueShore at Capilano University, Friday, Oct. 24, 8 p.m.
God and Satan, sad clowns, city dogs and dry counties abound in the newest album from singer/songwriter and notable parent Loudon Wainwright III.
Haven't Got the Blues (Yet) features 14 tracks from Wainwright, 68, whose playfulness with the pen belies his more than four decades on the fringe of the spotlight. Now perhaps best known for children Rufus and Martha, Wainwright's career dates back to being one of a few unfortunate talents branded the New Bob Dylan.
Played mainly over spare arrangements, Wainwright's new release touches on ennui, parking spaces, love and Zoloft.
Speaking to the North Shore News from a bed and breakfast in Portland, Oregon, Wainwright, describes the journalistic clarity of his lyrics. It's a craft he inherited from his father, longtime Life magazine columnist Loudon Snowden Wainwright.
"He was a big influence on all levels, as most parents are," he says.
That influence can be seen in his recent concerts, which feature recitations from his father's column, The View From Here. The columns are about life and family and include one story about having to put down the family dog, "which kills people," Wainwright says with a laugh.
"It adds a dimension to the show which is quite unusual and makes it special. It sure makes it special for me," Wainwright says of marrying his father's columns to his melodies. "He died over 25 years ago, but we're connecting now better than we ever have."
While most of Wainwright's new songs featuring twanging guitars that could've been recorded on a Chapel Hill porch, the album opens with the up-tempo frenzy of "Brand New Dance," which bursts with life and tilts at death.
"You've got a brand new dance and it goes like this, you wake up in the morning and look into the abyss," Wainwright sings.
After hearing a demo for the song with voice and guitar, producer David Mansfield opted to "rock it up a little," adding piano and horns, according to Wainwright.
As someone who grew up listening to "so-called novelty songs," like 'Poisoning Pigeons in the Park' and 'Hello Muddah, Hello Fadduh,' Wainwright's tunes are rarely without comedy.
'Brand New Dance' features lyrics like: "I've got a new smell and it's called the old man, a new taste sensation I'd say it was bland. But that senior discount, that's my kind of treat, and when I get on the bus, you've got to give me a seat!" Comedy is a way to lighten a bleak path and unsettle the audience, Wainwright explains.
"I like to goof around a little bit and then get serious and then go back to goofing around."
Goofing begets seething satire on the sleepy tune, "I'll Be Killing You This Christmas," which sounds like something Bing Crosby might've crooned in an psychotic stupor.
"Santa's packing heat this Christmas," Wainwright sings, accompanied by a mellow guitar and a hiss that gives the track a feel like old vinyl. "In your school, your church and your department store. The evidence is hazy, background checks can't kill the crazy. We need firepower that can win a war."
The song features bells jingling while Wainwright informs the listener they can't pry his fingers from the 100-round clip guaranteed by the second amendment and lobbied for by the National Rifle Association.
"I'm careful where I sing it. When I go to Wyoming I don't really sing it that much," Wainwright says about the prospective Christmas standard.
In an album that frequently doses depression with humour, "Depression Blues" is the standout track.
Wainwright seamlessly incorporates a blues great and an Austrian psychoanalyst into a single verse.
"Lightnin' sings the blues, the catholic goes to his confession. Tell me what you plan to do about all of your depression? You tried ol' Sigmund's talking cure, you experienced its power, but that kind of talk ain't cheap at $180 an hour."
What makes the song ring true is that Wainwright seems to be mining his own misery. Depression is universal, but when he asks if you'll, "re-read some old fan letter, or head to the nearest barroom to stay drunk until it gets better," it's difficult to imagine he's singing about anyone but himself.
The album's autobiographical bent takes a surreal turn on "Harlan County," a bluegrass ballad about a thirsty man on dry land.
The song was written five years ago as a potential theme song for the TV show Justified, starring Timothy Olyphant as author Elmore Leonard's lawman.
"The word went out to songwriters they were looking for a theme song for the show," Wainwright explains. "I took a crack at it and came up with 'Harlan County,' which they didn't use."
The song's narrative follows a tired, drunk and crazy protagonist awash in a golf and meth-addled community.
"I saw a bear up on Black Mountain, carrying his six-pack in his claw. I shot that bear and I took his six-pack. Yes, I guess I broke the law," Wainwright sings.
"I made that up, I have to admit," Wainwright says from Portland. "I've never shot a bear with a six-pack in his claw."
