STREET SOUNDS: Grass grows

The Jayhawks: Tomorrow the Green Grass

From the ‘80s rock hotbed of Minneapolis (Replacements, Husker Du, Prince) came The Jayhawks who took their name (partially) from some earlier northern roots rockers called The Hawks (The Band).  

The Jayhawks were latter-day pioneers of Americana; or the roots music revival spawned in that musically brittle decade.

Americana, a schmaltzy label that pissed off the Jayhawks, wasn’t commercially viable then with its wide embrace of rock, folk and country. Those sounds, acoustically based with harmony vocal elements, have since become visible and popular and the formerly moribund Jayhawks have revived to fly again with their classic lineup of Gary Louris, Mark Olson, Marc Perlman, and Karen Grotberg.

So has an old album, Tomorrow the Green Grass, been resurrected with a LOT of extras: five bonus tracks and 18 “mystery demos.” Now unless you’re a huge fan of the Jayhawks, the extra CD seems unnecessary. It actually takes away from the impact of the main disc, despite its pleasant charm. The word “filler” comes to mind…

On the main album, the songs written by Olson and Louris endure over the years and have that unidentifiable timeless factor about them. They’re refreshing and sincere. Having the stamp of a band you can trust, you don’t feel that these people will pull a fast one and go for the brass ring.  

Some of their most endearing songs have both keening and raunch within their confines: Real Light, Miss William’s Guitar, and Over My Shoulder. All these shine with Louris’ wailing axe offsetting the group’s heart-hooking harmonies.  

The early Beatles are evoked, spooky chord progressions and all, in much of the material; most notably Bad Time and See Him on the Street. The stars among all these satellites are the lovelorn but happy Blue and the psychedelic country-Byrds anthem Tomorrow the Green Grass (strangely not included on the “regular” album).

It’s not that long in the past, but this album feels like a free-floating classic that’s been hovering around forever, too comforting for a comfort zone.

 

Vernon Morning Star