In 2005, Cast King released his debut album. He was 79 years old and played a style of country music that had been largely eclipsed by modernity, but King still managed to receive some positive notices for his worthwhile effort. Another album was in the works, but sadly he died of cancer before that came to pass. In a pleasant turn of events, the inspirational Portland, OR store/label Mississippi Records has returned King’s autumnal effort to print in a limited edition, so interested parties who missed Saw Mill Man the first time around shouldn’t dally in snatching it up.
In an earlier era, the rediscovery of Cast King might’ve transformed him into a legendary figure, but in the middle of the first decade of the 21st century, he had to settle for critical acclaim and cult status. This sort of missed opportunity can drive some people to bitterness, but based on the no-nonsense delivery of Saw Mill Man’s dozen songs, I doubt the circumstance bothered him all that much.
Joseph D. “Cast” King was born on February 16, 1926 and as the cover of his sole LP plainly stated, hailed from Old Sand Mountain, Alabama. He was rediscovered by one Matt Downer, a musician and field recorder who while making his rounds kept getting pointed in the same direction. Upon tracking him down, a roughly two-year relationship unwound before the Chicago label Locust Music issued the four-track and MiniDisc recordings Downer made at King’s home.
Using the term rediscovery in relation to King comes with a bit of conjecture. In the mid-‘50s, he led a band called the Country Drifters that toured and even recorded at Sun Records, but the seven songs the group cut there remained unissued for decades. They eventually turned up in the ‘80s, tucked deep in the midst of the massive 11LP Bear Family box set The Sun Country Years 1950-1959 and on the Charly Records’ compiled single volume Good Ole Memphis Country.
So it suffices to say that all but the most dedicated followers of Mr. Phillips’ pursuits had no inkling of Cast King’s brush with fame, though it was certainly an aspect of his local reputation. And in an interview given in 2005 for Troy University Public Radio, King expressed his disappointment upon finally getting to hear the songs from the Country Drifters session; according to his recollection, they weren’t the master tapes but instead were the rehearsals that led up to them.
Those desirous of hearing King’s Sun stuff but unwilling to invest the bones necessary to procure Bear Family’s currently available 6CD version of The Sun Country Years (two pricy used copies of the LP set are also available on Amazon) can at least hear most of those songs by digging around YouTube. And doing so flouts expectations, at least a little bit.
While the majority of Sun Records’ most celebrated Caucasians are aptly described as rockabilly in orientation, the Country Drifters were considerably more trad in focus, though that’s not to say that fans of vintage ‘billy won’t scarf up the Drifters junk like a plate of ham and homemade cornbread. Initially the Country Drifters played bluegrass, but King made the switch in styles after the rest of the group nearly quit in unison, collectively tiring of the complex ensemble music.
But if generally eschewing rockabilly as a band (based on the Sun material I’ve heard, there’s no more than a hint of wild ‘50s hick abandon), that didn’t mean he wasn’t cognizant of the form. In that same Troy University interview, King related how he penned a batch of ‘billy tunes for none other than Sun’s biggest boy and sadly missed meeting Presley by a day. Frankly, this sort of info helps to extend King’s posthumous rep a bit.
For while a very admirable endeavor, if only given a glance Saw Mill Man can appear like the product of a man uncovered in some rural shack waiting patiently for his moment to expire. But actually listening to the record finds an artist in some ways comparable to Johnny Cash, and indeed one of the recurring references made upon the album’s release was to Cash’s American Recordings.
However, that’s not the sound the Country Drifters offered, so it obviously developed over time. And in some ways the linking to Cash is overstated in a blanket way, for Saw Mill Man’s opening title-track is closely related to Tennessee Ernie Ford’s “Sixteen Tons.” It’s a fine little tune that easily transcends the similarity, King’s voice rugged but warm, the rhythm accompaniment strikingly simple, and the guitars chiming through a low-tech but highly-successful recording strategy.
Yes, that’s guitars in the plural. Matt Downer joins King across this LP, and while just this sort of situation has sunk numerous well-intentioned rediscovery projects, happily that’s not the case here. Downer’s contribution is completely in synch with the considerable ability of his mentor (a major part of their relationship was guitar apprenticeship for the younger man), and throughout the album, King takes the lead with assurance.
“Long Time Now” increases the resemblance to Cash, but unlike American Recordings (the first volume of which I consider a classic), the nude beauty registers as being captured in a very casual way rather than intensely worked out in a major studio as a long overdue return to form. And the brevity of “Long Time Now” only enhances this atmosphere. In a hypothetically far more fussed-over scenario, King would’ve likely been nudged toward lengthening the tune, and that would’ve been for naught. As rendered here, the song needs nothing more.
Also comparing favorably to Cash is “Wino,” but there’s also a classic non-sophisto folky quality to the cut. And as King vocalizes, it’s clear that Cash was very much a conscious influence, though as with the Ernie Ford likeness mentioned above, his singing is rich enough to far surpass the limitations of a mere stylistic mimic. The reality is that Cash simply had a massive effect on a legion of musicians in a variety of styles, and King’s repertoire is a highly worthy example of this association.
But as the record progresses King’s distinctiveness grows a bit. “Faded Rose” is drenched in classic country ache, a drinking song that could’ve been cut by prime-era George Jones, but in this version the spare approach, finding just King’s big sturdy voice and minimal string support, greatly increases its communicative power. Likewise with “Numb,” though the twin guitars are more assertive and issuing moments that are downright pretty in their robust simplicity.
A distinct change in sensibility is revealed in “Peggy,” the song informed by a bluesy nature that can be traced back to the urban belters of the ‘20s, and it illuminates the diversity of King’s background. And he pulls it all off with considerable panache; it’s hard to imagine the tune not going down a storm in a ‘60s coffeehouse setting.
“Cheap Motel” tackles the topics of financial and emotional destitution that served as the cornerstones of pre-pop country songwriting, and as the song unwinds combines them with humor. In so doing, King emerges as a likeable wit and not a corndog, his tale rousing a small audience of local partisans. And on “Low Low Blues,” he combines Cash with Jimmie Rodgers (a superb yodel is unveiled) and by the end he comes off very much like his own self.
King estimated that he wrote up to 500 songs in his lifetime, and if a third of them were on the level of “Wrong Time to Be Right” the world missed out on a major talent. While accurately assessed as a rural musician with a style that by 2005 was fairly appraised as being out-of-time, he was again no rustic oddity. Underneath the rediscovery trappings is just a guy with music in his blood.
With “Memphis, TN” King slides into the mode of the boastful rambler, and while a nice little ditty, the versatility in this case does lack the emotional vigor of Saw Mill Man’s best tracks. Contrasting with this is “Under the Snow,” where King relates a tale of a murder from the killer’s point of view and ruminates at the close on the electric chair, and it isn’t far from the best of ‘60s country morbidity. Think Porter Wagoner’s “Rubber Room,” but instead with a musical thrust that’s (troublingly) gentle.
Closer “Outlaw” is a story-song, and it’s gotten a little guff for not being as gracefully dynamic as some of the old pros that obviously impacted the composition (Cash again, but also Willie Nelson.) And yes, when King begins his direct narrative partway through the tune he’s not especially polished, but he lacks nothing in terms of confidence, coherence or imagery.
To these ears, “Outlaw” ends the LP on a solid note, and it’s a shame Cast King didn’t get a chance to record more. His only full album falls short of the classic by a very slim margin, and with further chances he likely would’ve knocked one out of the park. But considering how easy it is to miss an opportunity, I guess we should be thankful Saw Mill Man even came out at all. That it’s available again, if only for a little while, is definitely a positive turn of events.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
B+
