Call It a Laid-Back Comeback

JJ Cale couldn’t do an interview with The Stranger due to
rehearsal commitments. Wait, JJ Cale needs to rehearse?
Absurd.

You see, Cale, 70, has been recording for nearly 50 years. Besides
that, the Oklahoma native’s music seems to ooze out of him so easily,
it might as well be an involuntary bodily function. Still, I suppose he
does have a band to put through its paces.

While an interview rejection is disappointing, it allows this Cale
fan more space to lavish love on the man’s music.

Like very few musicians in history, Cale has become a genre unto
himself. Some artists strive to reinvent themselves with every new
work. Cale is totally comfortable doing his own thing, with minor
variations, year after year. Like the character in one of his
best-known and oft-covered compositions, “Call Me the Breeze,” Cale
“keep[s] blowing down the road… Ain’t no change in the weather/Ain’t
no change in me.”

Those lyrics encapsulate the core paradox of Cale’s art: He keeps
rollin’ along, but he remains relatively static as he progresses.
Ordinarily, critics disparage such a stagnant MO. However, Cale thrives
within limited parameters. There’s something to be said for finding a
signature sound and honing it till it becomes an artful science, while
spinning minute variations on that approach.

As a proponent of the so-called Tulsa Sound, Cale has commingled
rockabilly, country, bluegrass, jazz, and blues in multiple
combinations, while often laying down a deceptively funky undercarriage
(see “Soulin’,” “I’ll Kiss the World Goodbye,” and “Right Down Here”
off 1972’s Really, “Crying” off 1974’s Okie, and “Ride Me
High” and “Let Me Do It to You” off 1976’s Troubadour, all of
which are ripe for sampling by enterprising producers).

Another Cale paradox is his ability to write songs that chug at a
swift pace while not seeming to break a sweat (unusual for a
country-blues artist, he was also one of the first musicians to employ
drum machines on record). Songs like “Call Me the Breeze,” “Anyway the
Wind Blows,” and the bluegrass barn-burners “If You’re Ever in
Oklahoma” and “Playing in the Street” propel you pell-mell down the
freeway or off the beaten track with utmost haste while still retaining
an essential laid-backness, a “hurry up and relax” feeling—hick
motorik, if you will. You’d think a song titled “Crazy Mama” would reek
of rock-and-roll freak-out, but Cale renders it as a near-comatose
blues tune, with a beautifully articulate bottleneck solo to capture
the hormonal uprising the title character likely caused. For such
sublime illusions and perversity, Cale deserves to be inducted to the
coolness hall of fame.

Perhaps the biggest paradox of Cale’s canon is “Cocaine,” which Eric
Clapton blew up into a hit and classic-rock staple. The song expresses
ambiguous feelings about said white powder (it’s a masterpiece of
lyrical evasiveness), but it’s bolstered by a huge, slack-elastic riff
and played at a tempo more akin to a heroin nod than a coke fidget.
From such paradoxes—and ever-accruing royalties from this as well
as Clapton’s equally ubiquitous take on “After Midnight” and loads of
JJ songs covered by popular artists—Cale has lived a comfortable
life. (Artists who have recorded Cale songs include Bob Dylan,
Spiritualized, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Sergio Mendes, Captain Beefheart, Bryan
Ferry, Freddie King, Waylon Jennings, Beck, Santana, Daddy’s Favourite,
and Wire; French producer Joakim recently reedited “Ride Me High” into
a killer cosmic-disco shuffle.)

While heavies like Neil Young and Mark Knopfler rate Cale as a
stellar guitarist, JJ’s voice is an underrated asset. His singing
possesses a grainy warmth similar to fellow Caucasian soul men like
Mose Allison and Dr. John; it’s the opposite of the straining
blowhardiness a lot of overcompensating ofays use (I’m looking at you,
Joe Cocker and Bono). Cale’s husky whisper is one of earth’s most
comforting sounds, and its understated sensual tone perfectly
complements his guitar playing, which is supernaturally delicate even
at its most urgent.

Of course, time diminishes most everyone’s vocal cords, and Cale’s
pipes have lost some of their low-key, lusty luster on his new album,
Roll On. That said, Cale’s singing range was never expansive
(nor did it need to be), and he’s weathered the years better than most
musicians in his age bracket. Roll On reveals a heavier jazz
influence than previous Cale opuses, but the man’s laid-back essence
endures. Cuts like “Down to Memphis,” “Fonda-Lina” (which recalls “Ride
Me High”), “Cherry Street” (which contains a sweet pedal-steel solo),
and “Roll On” continue Cale’s knack for tracks that evoke boxcars
rushing over the countryside. His music still makes you feel as if
you’re travelin’ light, free as the breeze.

No need to call the doctor. Just let JJ do it to you.