Rod Stewart - Every Picture Tells A Story
Rod the Mod finds his solo footing, headed for stardom, with the Faces in his wake.
6:00 AM GMT 22/06/2011
(Sony, 2007)
Well, actually, just the Jim James & Calexico cover of Goin' To Acapulco.
The other day, walking to work in the cold morning mist, I found myself coming over all emotional while listening to this cover of Dylan and The Band's Basement Tapes hymn to a Guerrero whorehouse. I do love Bob's version, with its laid-back Robbie Robertson guitar and Garth Hudson's eerie heat-haze organ, but there's something about the sticky, high-summer feel of the track, coupled with the way Dylan and co. boozily deliver the lyrics that lends the song a sweat-backed, mean-hombre edge, as exuded by such border-country sleaze lords as early '70s Warren Oates.
But this... well, before I launch into its many wonders it should be pointed out that I have little love left for either Calexico or Jim James' house band, My Morning Jacket. Calexico have always sounded to these ears like Ivy League Ry Cooders transforming world music into elevator Americana, whereas My Morning Jacket, I now realise, are simply a great American voice trapped in a permanently confused jam band. But, whether simply a one-off or a blueprint for the future, this is something else.
While less spectral than Bob and the Band's version, it's equally unearthly. James' voice is heart-breakingly beautiful: sweet, mournful and oddly valedictory, as if promising a final farewell to the American life. But, like Jimmy Webb's Phoenix or the unnamed destination in Fred Neil's Everybody's Talkin', you wonder, with this version, whether Acapulco mightn't be one of those places the narrator will never reach. South America has always held a mythic power in tales of the fading west, representing a more primal state, once big train money and 'civilization' crowded the outlaw out of the US. With Joey Burns and John Covertino's town square cantina horns echoing Robbie Robertson's forlorn arrangements on The Band, and James' angelic voice possessing a beautiful weariness that's reminiscent of (yet very different from) that band's tragic Richard Manuel, this 'Acapulco' takes on the dreamlike contours of The Band's arcadian wonderlands - the final, romantic destination of that album's lost confederate souls.
Listening to it that day I suddenly had a massive panic about Bob Dylan, erm, going off to his own arcadian wonderland, forever. That's perhaps understandable, on a magazine like MOJO, but the wave of sadness this track triggered was profound. Don't go to meet the sun in Acapulco, Bob. Not just yet.
Andrew Male
Posted by Ross_Bennett at 6:00 AM GMT 06/01/2010
Bob Dylan - The Basement Tapes (Columbia, 1975)
The Band - The Band (Capitol, 1970)
Coulson, Dean, McGuinness, Flint - Lo And Behold (Sire, 1972)
Rod the Mod finds his solo footing, headed for stardom, with the Faces in his wake.
6:00 AM GMT 22/06/2011
Last salvo of Ginsters Pasty-Warholism from Britpop ramraiders.
12:04 PM GMT 08/06/2011
An overlooked small wonder from an unpredictable career.
6:00 AM GMT 03/06/2011
Dry computer club Futurists, upon hitting implausible chart paydirt.
6:00 AM GMT 17/05/2011
Epic Danish jams, for when the neighbours get you down.
6:00 AM GMT 12/05/2011
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In the movie -- James appears out of nowhere in the middle of the strange Basement Tapes world where Richard Gere lives, singing Acapulco in whiteface make-up -- this track is a real stand out too. It's every interesting movie, but everything stops when you hear that voice. It made me explore MMJ, about whom we disagree. I thought their last album made real progress toward breaking down the genre walls they were trapped in, and I'm hoping their new album follows through.
Posted by BigSteve at 8:52 PM GMT 06/01/2010 Report Abuse
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I have to agree- in fact, I thought this song was the only part of the movie that I could tolerate.
Posted by John Weddell at 3:07 PM GMT 10/01/2010 Report Abuse
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