When it comes to Southern Rock, The Marshall Tucker Band can be beat. To my way of looking at things they occupy the No. 3 spot in the Southern Rock pantheon, far below Lynyrd Skynyrd and the Allman Brothers Band. That said, Toy Caldwell and Company bequeathed us some mighty fine music, and they did it with a flute player no less.
Caldwell was a boogie man at heart and a country boy right down to his shitkickers, and he reconciled heart and feet with a magic touch for producing snazzy down home hoedowns that swing. He may have lacked Ronnie Van Zant’s ornery rock’n’roll edge, and the Allman Brothers’ dedication to the blues, but he added an essential ingredient to the pot–call it sweetening in the form of a melodic sensibility that brings to mind Dickey Betts more than anybody else. And Caldwell not only played ‘em prettier than the competition, he made ‘em jump like trout at the end of a fishing line. And at his best he could break your heart while he was at it.
Which is by no means to say that the Marshall Tucker Band couldn’t kick out the jams; the two live sides of 1974’s Where We All Belong stand as proof positive that they had no trouble settin’ the woods on fire, and the barn too while they were at it. Their three-guitar army may not have blitzkrieged with the same ferocity as Skynyrd’s, but one listen to their live take of “24 Hours at a Time” should be enough to convince anybody that they sure knew how to ramble on down the road.
The MTB was always an erratic proposition when it came to producing keepers, hence my love for 1978’s Greatest Hits. It lassoes the prime heifers and rounds ‘em up, and in short makes for one swell corral for the ears. At their best the Marshall Tucker Band were perhaps the greatest country boogie band in the land; from the jaunty and flute-laced “Take the Highway” (which, with its jazz breakdown, is as close as an American band has ever come to Traffic) to the plaintive and piano-laden “In My Own Way” (inspirational lyric: “I can’t act like we just met all the time”) to the immortal “Can’t You See” (which sets some truly inspired guitar playing against a set of lyrics that limn the limits of train-bound heartbreak) they split the difference between home-spun country homily and your more sophisticated jazz, swing and blues forms.
“This Ol’ Cowboy” is pure Western Swing right down to fellow traveler Charlie Daniels’ fiddle; on the other side of the corral stands “Long Hard Ride,” a much tougher proposition in the form of an almost instrumental that is guaranteed to rattle the rafters at your next barn party. That George McCorkle sure knows how to play the banjo! As for the studio take of “24 Hours of a Time,” it rocks just as hard as the live version, with a tip of the old ten-gallon once again going to C. Daniels, whose playing is as dead right as his politics are dead wrong.
“Heard It in a Love Song” may be a over-polished example of S. Rock easy listening–Jerry Eubanks’ flute and Paul Hornsby’s piano sweeten it half to death–but I believe every saccharine word that comes out of Doug Gray’s mouth, and I always love to hear this one on the radio. It was a big hit, of course, as was “Fire on the Mountain,” a McMorkle composition which Caldwell’s big steel guitar saves from sounding too city slick. And yes, it dares to throw a flute solo at you and gets away with it. As for “Ramblin’,” it comes at you like a great Dickey Betts boogie complete with frenetic horns before going all low-key on your ass, only to build to a frenzied shuffle complete with some groovy organ and Gray screaming, “RAMBLIN’ on my MIND!”
“Searchin’ for a Rainbow” is a work of humble country genius; lovely to a fault, it’s “The Seeker” for good ole boys everywhere looking for the wind to push them to their pot of gold. Meanwhile, “Blue Ridge Mountain Sky” is a full-tilt boogie about the only place to put down your hat; namely, under those Blue Ridge Mountain skies. It oughta be the state song of South Carolina if it isn’t already, and comes complete with some wonderful banjo picking by McCorkle and lots of great fiddle playing by Daniels, who should probably be made an honorary citizen of the state.
I’ve used the word “sophisticated” before, but that’s the remarkable thing about the Marshall Tucker Band; they dared to be sophisticated, and did it without losing that aw shucks country boy aura. “This Ol’ Cowboy” may be the most rarified song ever to appeal to real cowpokes, just as “Take the Highway” may be the most musically complex road song ever written. I tend to favor Hank Williams’ deceitful simplicity when it comes to country music, but I make an exception for the Marshall Tucker Band, and I encourage you to do the same.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
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