The
Capitol Records biography from October 1995 said it perfectly: “John Hiatt
has long occupied a singular place among American singer-songwriters. He’s
an artist who twists rock and soul and blues and R&B into rhythmic shapes
that echo the deep and surprising way he sees things.”
As Hiatt himself says: “I’m a songwriter but I’m also a guy who has to
perform his won material. I write my own stuff, but it’s ultimately all
about music, melody, my technique. I’m always interested in sound. You’ve
got to inhabit the right sonic space for the song to resonate with any
meaning.”
Hiatt’s songs have resonated with meaning for more than two decades and
whilst it’s fair to say that it was late ‘80’s albums like Bring The
Family (1987), Slow Turning (1988) and Stolen Moments (1989) that really
bought him to a substantial world-wide audience those and subsequent
albums only tell part of the story. Living A Little, Laughing A Little
collects much lesser known material from 1974 to 1985 that are a sublime
example of the evolution, development and increasing maturity of a truly
inspired writer and performer.
Born and raised in Indiana, Hiatt started writing songs at the age of 11.
He estimates his total output over the years at well of 600 songs. Intent
on making a career of it, Hiatt left high school to work as an in-house
writer for Tree Publishing in Nashville.
Aside from a 1972 recording, In Season by White Duck – about which Hiatt
train-spotters will doubtless know more than I – Hiatt’s first recording
under his own name was Hangin’ Around The Conservatory which was released
by Epic Records in 1974.
As Hiatt commented at the time: “One night, we went up to this observatory
where once a month people are allowed to come in and view the stars. It
was way up on top of a hill out in the country. On the way up, I got the
feeling I was going to visit a mad scientist’s house…I feel like I’m an
observer. I’m not really here; I’m watching.”
On the sleeve notes for Observatory Bruce Harris observed: “Without ever
losing its central distinctiveness, John Hiatt’s music can be heavy or it
can be lyrical. It can be metal or it can be magical. Always, it is music
filled with spirit, energy, humour, and excitement. And of course, John’s
strangely compelling voice is the perfect match for the curious music and
more curious lyrics. Hiatt’s not just strange – these days, it’s easy to
be weird. Hiatt takes it one step beyond; like the truth, he is stranger
than fiction.”
In the Village Voice Robert Christgau decided the album was worth a ‘B’
which given his legendary toughness and bizarre idea of rating every album
with a letter, wasn’t too bad. And certainly Christgau was one of the
earliest critics to recognize that Hiatt had a lot to offer: “Hiatt is a
Mid-western boy who wrings off center rock’n’roll out of a voice with lots
of range, none of it homey. Reassuring to hear the heartland Americana of
the Band actually inspire a heartlander. Reassuring too that one of the
resulting songs can be released as a single by Three Dog Night.”
Observatory didn’t, however, make too much of an impression and it was
followed a year later by Overcoats an altogether more impressive outing –
although not everyone agreed. These days it’s easy to think of Hiatt as a
critic’s favorite as his albums are consistently lauded but that’s
certainly not always been the case. None other than Dave Marsh has written
(in the first Rolling Stone Record Guide, 1979) of Overcoats: “Hiatt is
about as ill at ease and forced as an R&B-based white singer/songwriter
can get, which is awfully ill at ease and horribly forced. One suspects
that Overcoats, released in 1975, will soon go the way of Hiatt’s
out-of-print debut LP.”
Again Robert Christgau was far more complimentary – but still rated the
album a ‘B’: “I admit to a weakness for loony lyrical surrealist protest
rockers. And I admit that this one tends to go soft when he tries to go
poetic. I even admit that he has a voice many would consider worse than no
voice at all (although that’s one of the charms of the type). But I insist
that an7yone who can declaim about killing an ant with his guitar
‘underneath romantic Indiana stars’ deserves a shot at leading-man status
in Fort Wayne.”
During this period Hiatt hit the road, touring fold venues and festivals
across North America, and building a loyal club following in the process.
By 1979 he had moved to Los Angeles and was signed to MCA after becoming a
notable part of the New Wave scene.
By the time Hiatt had released three more albums – Slug Line (1979),
Two-Bit Monsters (1980) and All Of A Sudden (1982) Marsh was coming around
to realizing that maybe there was something going on here – but he sure as
hell wasn’t certain what it was: “Hiatt’s strained soulfullness always
overcomes his wise-guy charm, at least in these quarters. Indeed, if one
weren’t so certain of Ry Cooder’s taste (and if Hiatt weren’t a member of
Cooder’s recent bands), the temptation would be to dismiss this pompous
posturing as a fairly vile example of post-Springsteen bombast. However,
faith assures us something must be there. Possibly by the next edition it
will be located in more than association.”
With Slug Line Christgau decided that Hiatt was actually worth a ‘B+’.
Things were definitely looking up: “This hard-working young pro may yet
turn into an all-American Elvis C. He’s focused his changeable voice up
around the hegh end and straightened out his always impressive melodies,
but he has a weakness ofr the shallow (if sincere) putdown, e.g.: ‘You’re
too dumb to have a choice.’ Or else he;d get chosen, do you think he
means?”
A far more supportive early champion of Hiatt’s was Trouser Press editor
Ira A. Robbins but even he described the first two Epic albums as
“unextraordinary, mild singer/songwriter records.” For Robbins Slug Line
was the album where Hiatt first displayed what he was potentially capable
of. He considered that Hiatt was “a fiercely original, soul-inflected rock
character, likened to Elvis Costello and Joe Jackson, but wholly his own
man.”
In between making his own albums Hiatt had always found time for other
projects. In 1976 ther was Don’t It Make You Want To Dance? with Rusty
Weir, and in 1980 the acclaimed Borderline soundtrack with Ry Cooder. The
same year saw the release of a promotion only live album, unimaginatively
titled Border Live. During 1980 Hiatt also contributed the song Spy Boy to
the soundtrack of the film Cruising.
The year 1982 was a new album in the Tony Visconti-produced All Of A
Sudden, a performance with Ry Cooder on Slide Area (Geffen), and a
substantial contribution to The Border soundtrack.
Riding With The King, produced a side each by the Durocs team of Ron Nagle
and Scott Matthews, and by Nick Lowe, was released in 1983, the same year
that saw him singing backing vocals on Richard Thompson’s Hand Of Kindness
album.
It wasn’t until 1985 that Hiatt released any new material – first a
powerful and well-realized new album Warming Up To The Ice Age, which
would be his last for Geffen before signing with A&M and releasing Bring
The Family. During 1985 Hiatt also released a single, Living A Little,
Laughing A Little, backed with two rare live tracks – When We Ran and
Everybody’s Girl. There was also a promotional-only live album, Riot With
Hiatt, backing vocals with Los Lobos on Will The Wolf Survive and more
contributions to film soundtracks.
Since the mid ‘80’s Hiatt has appeared on record with Peter Case, Rodney
Crowell, Loudon Wainwright III, Nick Lowe and the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band.
And it hasn’t stopped – Hiatt makes his own superb albums but is no slouch
when it comes to keeping busy in between and lending a hand to recordings
by the most disparate of artists. In 1990 he sang and played whistle on a
track from Ben Vaughan’s Dressed In Black album, and provided backing
vocals on Something Wild from Iggy Pop’s Brick By Brick album.
Then there’s Hiatt’s other career as a songwriter. There is an
extraordinarily diverse array of artists who have recorded his songs, with
no more than 60 different individuals considering their records would be
just that little better with the inclusion of at least one Hiatt song.
Among those acts are Bob Dylan, the Neville Brothers, David Crosby, Joe
Cocker, the Jeff Healey Band, Steve Earle, Dave Edmunds and Paula Abdul.
More than two decades after he started his songwriting and recording
career John Hiatt stands as one of the most distinctive and passionate
reformers in contemporary music. He’s undergone a transformation from
angry ‘70’s new waver to tasteful, spirited roots rocker with class and a
whole lot of heart’n’style. On a recent American TV show, The Hot List,
Hiatt talked of and listed his personal ‘desert island’ favorite albums,
which gives a fine insight into the music that has shaped his own. In
descending order from one to five Hiatt’s selections were Marvin Gaye &
Tammi Terrell’s Greatest Hits (Hiatt mentioned how much he loves the
Ashford & Simpson songwriting team), Bob Dylan’s Blonde On Blonde, Sly &
The Family Stone’s Fresh, The Band’s self-titled album, and Jimi Hendrix’s
Axis: Bold As Love.
Contained on this album are classic recordings from Hiatt’s formative
periods. Rarely less than enthralling they are a vital part of Hiatt’s
story – one of great songs, distinctive vocals and a real rock’n’roll
heart that’s worn proudly on the sleeve.
Moreover this sleeve notes suggest that at least one companion volume
colleting many of Hiatt’s other sideline projects, collaborations and
soundtrack work would be, well, a damn fine idea. Coming soon to a record
store that cares.
Stuart Cope, 1995 |