Rebel yell

Drive-By Truckers skid on Southern culture

by John O'Neill

Patterson Hood, vocalist, chief songwriter, and frontal lobe of the Athens-based Drive-By Truckers has resigned himself to the fact that, just as much as the music, people want to talk about the

album cover of their debut CD, Gangstabilly (Soul Dump). It's created quite a bit of controversy, this little drawing, a cartoon portrait of self-deprecating truth. Tara has relocated to a trailer park somewhere down on I-75; and Rhett Butler, tattooed, unshaven, and half-gassed on Pabst, is far more interested in working his grimy hand up the pudgy thigh of Scarlet's Daisy Dukes than completing any job application or GED course. Gun racks, NASCAR, rebel flags, Hardee's, slant-sixes hanging from trees, and shit-kickin' down at the roadhouse -- it encompasses everything the "new" South would like to forget or at least sweep under the all-weather carpeting in the double wide.

"We've caught flack about it like, `Oh, they must be a joke band,' and it has upset people. So I got [offending cartoonist] Jim [Stacy] to do the next album. I figure if it gets that reaction, something must be right," says Hood with a chuckle. "I had this message from a record-store owner. He'd been drinkin' in his store with a buddy after-hours; and you can hear the album cranked in the background, and he's yellin' how he loves it. I called him back the next day, and he said he almost didn't listen to it cuz of the cover!"

A look at the back of the album, what with song titles like "Wife Beater," "Panties In Your Purse," "Buttholesville," and "Demonic Possession," only helps fuel the fire that the Truckers are a pack of lowbrow shitheads and not to be taken seriously. So, when the disc begins (after a phony needle drop and the scratch and hiss of a well-played slab of vinyl) and "Wife Beater" comes up not as some Dice Clay slap-the-bitch yuck-fest but as a blunt, passionate look at spousal abuse, it's that much more shocking. "You met him at the dance hall/You only saw his charms/You said he really swept you off your feet," Hood sings in a soft, whiskey twang. "But then one night he's drinkin'/In jealousy and rage/He knocked out two of your front teeth."

It continues through all 11 songs. And before you know it, an hour has passed; and you're left with the stunning satisfaction of having listened to one of the better roots-inspired albums of the past decade filled with dark, twisted odes that contain a core of humor. On the gritty rocker "18 Wheels of Love," Hood relays a tale of his mama starting a new life and running off with a truck driver; while "Buttholesville," examines the frustration of living in small-town oblivion, where everybody knows the best-looking girl around, the Dodge is on blocks, and nobody quite gets where you're at. It's a reflection of Hood's time spent growing up in Muscle Shoals, Alabama.

"I wrote that when I was in Adam's House Cat [along with current D-BT guitarist Mike Cooley]. We were playing punk rock in a geographic part of the country that didn't get punk," says Hood, who's dad was a key session man on the original Muscle Shoals soul scene. "We were treated like we were from another planet, and not in a good way! We'd be stuck in this hole writing songs, and we'd go out and play them and be hated. Then we'd go back and write some more. We had no following so we couldn't get out [of Muscle Shoals]."

Adam's House Cat, after playing to nobody for six years, stiffed for good in '91. Hood, who has more than 3000 songs written, by his estimation, began recording a solo studio project that would eventually develop into the Drive-By Truckers. And the Drive-By Truckers would slowly develop into a first-class country-rock band. Alt-country, No Depression, Redneck Underground, plain-old American music -- whatever you want to call the current trend, the Truckers stand as one of groups who sound like they actually mean it. So, sometimes four-part harmonies wash up against mandolin, banjo, and pedal steel on numbers like "Late for Church" and "Panties In Your Purse," while "The Tough Sell" and "Steve McQueen" feature filthy guitar grit and soul-shout vocals. Gangstabilly is one of the few albums of the past year that actually brings something original to the table. Sure, it winks at the whole white-trash culture, but that's because these cats are a byproduct of it. While bands like Southern Culture on the Skids play the trailer-schtick for giggles, Hood and his posse actually embrace the lifestyle. As Hood explains, "I personally like the whole Redneck Underground thing. It's kinda funny. It's definitely the more belligerent of the alt-country scene. And I like belligerent."

Currently finishing up their second CD, Pizza Deliverance, which is due out in April, the Truckers are on their first lengthy tour (they play the Above Club this Friday). And they're on the verge of being taken more seriously than a bunch of smart-assed crackers. But Hood promises to keep the fun in the music. After getting off the road, it's straight back to the studio to record a full-length rock opera dealing with the mythology of Lynyrd Skynyrd. ("We're gonna use three guitars so it's true to form!") In a two-year period, the band will have logged 257 shows and three albums. Enough to make a living at it.

"Well, not yet. But it's sucking the living out of me," Hood cracks. "We come off the road, go to work to get back on our feet, and then go back out again. We're all piss broke but the only people we have to answer to is our wives, when rent hasn't been paid in two months!

"We haven't invented anything new, it's just that people recognize it as something real," says Hood in relation to the band's appeal. "People are hungry for stuff that isn't the same old crap, so that makes it easier for us. It's tough to get it out there; but when we do, people seem to enjoy it."