Newman's wit is as caustic as ever on this examination of the American south. His sardonic attack on his subjects leaves the gate at a full gallop on "Rednecks," as oilmen from Texas, hustlers in Atlanta and even college students (at LSU, "they went in dumb, come out dumb, too") get pilloried for "keepin' the niggers down." "Birmingham," on its face, is a tribute to the common man, but while Newman may be withholding his punches somewhat, the subtext of even urban Alabamans' provinciality can hardly be ignored in light of the opening track. The only overtly topical number on the record, "Mr. President," is a curious inclusion, unless one considers Yorba Linda to be part of the South (which one could be forgiven for; Newman similarly sends up Huey P. Long, incidentally, a bit later). "Guilty" works better as a drunken self pity party than "Marie" or "Rollin," while the trilogy of "Naked Man," "A Wedding in Cherokee County" and "Back On My Feet Again" paint portraits, at one turn generous, at the next scathing, of the dispossessed and the insane.
The stand-out on Good Old Boys, though, is "Louisiana 1927." Here Newman lays off the hayseeds, the drunks and the mental patients and redirects his ire toward the powers that be. The song gained new relevance, of course, in the wake of Hurricane Katrina (The line "President Coolidge came down in a railroad train" could easily be replaced with "President Bush flew over in his airplane" without so much as losing the rhyme), but "Lousiana 1927" serves not so much as an indictment of the mis-handling of any given disaster, but rather of the neglect visited on the South more generally, going all the way back to Reconstruction.
While Good Old Boys displays a mean-spirited, and at times vicious, edge, what ultimately redeems Newman's satire is that he renders his subjects and their circumstances with just enough depth and context to remind us that they are in fact human; that he sugar coats his vitriol so effectively doesn't hurt matters, either. Newman's bluesy structures, rhythmic piano lines, and flawless string and horn arrangements make his pills, however bitter, quite easy to swallow.
Some other thoughts:
#394, Roxy Music's For Your Pleasure: Brian Eno's presence can be felt on Roxy Music's sophomore effort, certainly in his sonic contributions, but more so in the tension between his experimental approach and Bryan Ferry's sophisticated art-pop vision. The two were always a peculiar match; their contentions are applied to good effect on tracks like "Beauty Queen," "In Every Dream Home a Heartache" and "The Bogus Man," but ultimately led to Eno's departure.
#392, Creedence Clearwater Revival's Willy and the Poor Boys: CCR are one of those bands that just never get old. While they don't continue to loom large in the culture ála the Beatles or the Stones, they've never faded into irrelevance, either. "Down On the Corner" and "Midnight Special" sound as fresh today as they did when released, and "Fortunate Son" holds up considerably better than most protest songs of its day.
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