Some may know The Brokeoffs as the backing “band” co-credited on the recent records of veteran Brit singer-songwriter Holly Golightly. The quotation marks above relate to The Brokeoffs’ existence as one gent, namely Lawyer Dave, and he’s just getting around to releasing his first single. It sports two covers; one surprising and triumphant and the other an attempt to conquer a seeming ubiquity. A 10-inch picture disc, it’s out September 25 in an edition of 250 via the UK label Damaged Goods.
Up to this point The Brokeoffs’ name has been noted almost exclusively in connection with a geographical/stylistic turn in the career of Holly Golightly. In the midst of last decade the ex-member of The Headcoatees and prime solo exponent of the ‘90s garage scene moved to the States, cultivating a partnership with the Texas-bred multi-instrumentalist known as Lawyer Dave while taking a detour into the Americana field.
The duo’s eighth album Coulda Shoulda Woulda is out next month, denoting the relationship with Lawyer Dave as a fruitful one. It should be no shock to folks familiar with Golightly’s beginnings that her immersion in the rural musical richness of the USA preserved her grit and sass, but Lawyer Dave’s input more than backup; blending honky-tonk and back-porch blues, they could sometimes come off like Wanda Jackson hooking up with C&W-era Hasil Adkins in a wood-paneled dive bar in the hills of West Virginia, the duo intermittently possessed by the disembodied spirit of Joe Hill Louis.
Golightly recently visited the UK and the byproduct was Slowtown Now!, her first full-band album since 2004, so it only makes sense that Dave gets to do a little branching out as well. Serving as The Brokeoffs’ solo debut, the picture disc sports a photo substantially intensifying the aura of one-man band-ism as its grooves present a wrinkle; specifically, while Golightly and Dave were not averse to adapting tunes, they did generally focus on their own material.
One-man bands are occasionally derided as merely a stunt or a shtick of lameness, appraisals at times accurate but just as often unfair. At its best the method can produce a wickedly primal verve; this was the case with Louis and especially the unhinged mania of Adkins as Louis’ fellow Memphisian Doctor Ross lends a further example. Contrasting somewhat, Oakland’s Jesse Fuller exudes a folky picnic in the park air. Contemporarily, there is Mark Sultan aka BBQ and he’s not alone.
But when paired with the unusual choice for a-side, one could understandably assess this outing by The Brokeoffs as a plunge into gimmickry. To be clear, Lawyer Dave does play around with the gimmick motif a bit on the a-side here, momentarily (but purposefully) digressing into another song (I shan’t be a spoiler) and integrating a solo on kazoo (notably, an instrument in Fuller’s arsenal) into the equation.
Additionally, there’s the novelty vibe produced by a musician of roots temperament tackling a cornerstone of ‘70s pop-prog, and this is really the doorway to success; “Brain Damage/Eclipse” ultimately radiates like a one-man/home-studio nugget created by an early ‘80s cat stuck in a dumpy backwater, his personality significantly impacted by FM rock radio and Monty Python reruns on PBS.
Having come of age largely without the luxury of cable TV and with a portable stereo constantly nearby, the above description holds fragments of this writer’s personal remembrance. “Brain Damage/ Eclipse” was in daily rotation on any rock airwaves reaching said stereo’s antenna, and by late teens fatigue with The Dark Side of the Moon had set in. As an adult, the audiophile staple mainly served as a marker detailing a rise in disinterest in Pink Floyd’s discography.
The Brokeoffs give “Brain Damage/Eclipse” a truly appealing kick in the pants, though this scenario shouldn’t be misinterpreted as a piss take; in fact, minus the aid of any lab studies, it would seem this version is likely to garner equal appreciation from both Floyd fans and non. Retaining the source’s structure, the guitar emits a crisply bluesy tone, and even before Dave’s vocal emerges there’s no doubt what’s being played.
His singing impressively recalls Waters’ emotional tenor, but the strongest aspect is the drumming, a basic hi-hat tambourine setup giving way to a dexterous thump effectively navigating the dynamic shifts of the original. That signature interjection of madcap laughter does come to pass as slight diversions help to lend an individual touch; altogether, it’s a rousing success.
The flip’s reading of “House of the Rising Sun” is more than a tad nearer to what one would expect from a single by The Brokeoffs, and the main issue at hand is overcoming the song’s status as a universal chestnut through multiple prior recordings, the most well-known being The Animals’ smash of 1964. This familiarity can’t help but get things off to a rather slow start, yet by roughly halfway in considerable roots-punk headway has been made.
The guitar is raw, the drums thud, and what sounds like a cheap keyboard enters for the instrumental break. But the key element is the avoidance of unnecessary histrionics or overboard gravel-laden hard-living earthiness as the throat belts out the lines. Simply by not trying too hard, “House of the Rising Sun” becomes a serviceable b-side.
It’s a matter of speculation how far Dave can productively extend The Brokeoffs as a vessel of one-man band cover tunes and even if he wishes to do so, but based on the results presented here a full LP featuring the approach could prove a treat. Picture discs are frequently a morning-after sorta deal, offering fleeting fun but with a growing sense of regret attached, but it’s safe to say this one is worth the trouble. As mentioned up top, Damaged Goods hasn’t pressed many copies of this slab, so interested parties shouldn’t dally.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A-
