With "Bulldozers and Dirt," the Drive-by Truckers kick off the party that is their second album, Pizza Deliverance (1999). "Bulldozers" is a monologue, sung by the quintessential Redneck as he address his girlfriend's 13-year-old daughter, with every stereotype in the book: Him breaking into his future-girlfriend's trailer to steal her television; her holding a double-barrel shotgun on him while waiting for the police and then putting up the trailer for his bail before promising to "learn [him] not to roam"; him describing the pick-up on blocks, debt, and alcoholism that comprise his life and have always been associated with redneck culture. And, as he says repeatedly, "[M]ost of all, I like bulldozers and dirt." To complete the picture, the speaker offers the girl a beer in a clear act of seduction. Complimenting these low-brow lyrics is the song's music, a formal waltz with mandolin, upright bass, and the Truckers' perfect--indeed, gospel-like--four-part harmony. This seeming contradiction embodies the artistic and rhetorical strategies of the Truckers, for what becomes clear is that the band isn't exploiting the stereotype; instead, they're calling attention to it and to the socioeconomic issues it often obscures. Simply put, the Drive-by Truckers deliver.
The Drive-by Truckers, an Athens, Georgia, alternative-country band steeped in twang, rock, punk and Southern Gothic, are one of the most promising second-generation bands of the "Redneck Underground." Pizza Deliverance builds on that tradition.
Making up the band are Patterson Hood (vocals, guitar, mandolin), Mike Cooley (vocals, banjo, guitar), Matt Lane (drums), and Rob Malone (bass, vocals), while John Neff sits in on pedal steel. Hood does most of the writing and singing, his gravely voice is redneck through and through, and suffused with humor, hinting that the best way to handle the mess that is the world is to laugh about it, but never losing sight of the tragedy.
A dry humor pervades most of the Truckers' songs. The rocking "Nine Bullets" tells of a broken-hearted man who determines to use the 9 bullets in his roommate's gun to solve all problems by shooting his ex, her new lover, a woman at the laundrymat ("who goes through my dryer taking one sock out"), and a slew of others, including himself, his family, and his roommate--it is his gun, after all. With "Too Much Sex (Too Little Jesus)," Hood assumes the voice of a radio evangelist, a raucous mandolin and upright bass bringing the fire and brimstone to his words. The preacher preys on insecure teens, telling them to "stop that dope smoking, stop that fornication / Take the Lord into your heart, and stop that masturbation." Instead, he says they need to send him money-a point he makes before a commercial break and promise of more drama from "another troubled teen."
Then, there's the Keystone Cops-esque "The President's Penis Is Missing," with everyone obsessively looking for "Buffalo Bill." After listing other presidents and their indiscretions, Hood gets to the point: "Meanwhile the whole world suffers from hunger and meanness / But we're more concerned with the president's penis." And a Hood-on-helium vocal brings home the point in the manic "Zoloft": The whole family-even the pit bull-is taking the anti-depressant, and now everyone's problems are miraculously gone. As the speaker sums it up, "I'm so damned happy."
Some of Pizza Deliverance is more overtly political. For example, Cooley's "One of These Days" and "Uncle Frank" are angry rockers that call attention to the reality of lower-class powerlessness. "One of These Days" are the words of a son who finds himself caught in the same cycle that trapped his father: "Dropped out of school when he was just sixteen, fell right into the tire plant, / Building the very thing that makes the asphalt sing / And put Alabama far behind you." Ironically, neither can escape. Similarly, in "Uncle Frank," Cooley personifies the displacement of a culture as he describes one man affected by the TVA's damming of the Tennessee River. Frank cannot find a place in this new world that has little resemblance to the promised Eden; instead, Uncle Frank hangs himself, unable even to leave a note because of illiteracy.
And there is the Southern Gothic. In the dark "Box of Spiders," Hood describes "Gran Gran," a woman who scared her grandson with tales of a box of spiders and is obsessed with death; Malone does the lead vocal on the bluesy "Mrs. Dubose," which describes a woman with her own gothic quirks.
But perhaps most unsettling is "Margo and Harold," the tale of a couple with unusual sexual and substance proclivities. The song is the monologue of a speaker explaining to his lover how terrified he is of the couple. However, that he's given in before is revealed as he confesses, "That night with Margo was a long time ago," thus calling into question whether the speaker fears Harold and Margo or himself. The slow, ominous bassline accompanied by a wicked mandolin, is almost hypnotizing, echoing the singer's conflicting fear and fascination.
Patterson Hood noted in an interview with Matt Thompson, "There's a lot of dark stuff in the world, but the best defense to live through it is honestly with a sense of humor." But be warned: The Truckers like their whiskey straight. Songs like "The Company I Keep," "Tales Facing Up," "Love Like This," and "The Night G.G. Allin Came to Town" take on a side of life that may make some listeners uncomfortable. Perhaps that's the point: We should be uncomfortable because the issues the Truckers call attention to, underneath the redneck trappings that some may find offensive, are important but too often ignored--and the music is never less than first-rate.
The Truckers know how to throw a party; don't miss this one.
For more information, contact Audio Reviews Editor George Lewis.