"Making Noise"
Showcase Magazine March 2001 Jamie Perkins

Boy howdy this is a good CD. And y'all best be certain ah ain't one to just be dolin' out a compliment o' that magnitude wihout'n rightly meanin' it. So good makes me wanna go back'n pappy's new barn and drink me a suitcase o'Bud tallboys. I reckon these fellers just be bringin' out the redneck in me.

This "locomotive-alterna-country-high-velocity-roots-rock" band from down Beantown way kicks and stomps and cajoles and coos their way through the second of their two critically hailed discs, Outback Country Vampire, all the while sounding like a bunch of studio pros who done got 'faced and took the saloon by terrorist attack. Like Wilco rounding out an afternoon of PCP and Johnny Cash records.

Fueled by the fires and fornications of frontman Jabe Beyer (that must be where they got the name . . .), JABE smartly uses typically countrified instruments like banjo and fiddle to layer smart hooks over their solid blues-rock base. Not exactly an original idea these days, but couple that with the fact that Beyer is an award-winning songwriter (recipient of the 2000 Abe Olman Songwriting Award by the National Academy of Popular Music, SESAC, and the Songwriting Hall of Fame) and the effect of this here mixed drink is nothing short of, well, intoxicating. The absolute best thing I can say about this CD is that several of the tracks on Outback Country Vampire have been stuck in my head for the better part of two weeks now (intoxicating? Hell, podner, I'm drunk as a skunk.) Start to finish, this CD has more hooks in it than Bass Lake come bug season. And I'm outta me some Lanacane.

Backed by bassman Jay Aucella (a Dover native) and drummer Dave Westner (fine, sturdy musicians both), Jabe Beyer looks and sounds like a young Tom Waits . . . you know, before that unusual yet charming frog lodged his way into Mr. Waits' voice box. And it's not so much that JB and TW (that's what their friends call them) have similar sounding (as in "sonic") singing voices; it's just that they both sing with a certain relaxed, drunken confidence with their own material and said material's thematic and/or moral output, nee "vibe."

Take the duality of attitude in the speaker of "Danglin'From a Broken Star," a mellow, empowering break-up tune told from the point of view of a lover who has lost patience with the pleadings of their forsaken ex. After a gentle explanation of things being over in the first verse, the chorus comes in with the soft, reassuring mantra of "You belong where you are," which would be a nice soothing thing to say to a crushed love. Until of course the title line is sung and the mood goes from soft to scabrous in scant seconds after the connotations sink in. Craftily layered and subtly performed, this song is the best local-ish single I've heard since Weed Inc. wrote "F*** Your Minivan."

Or consider if you will track 10, "I Just Dumped the Prettiest Girl in the World." Now this sped-up, country-punk Cadillac of a song sounds vaguely reminiscent of "Pumpin' 4 the Man" off of Ween's 90's MASTERPIECE Pure Guava (Elektra). This is to say that the song can sound decidedly and deceptively silly if not paid close attention to. But the fact remains that this song describes in just a few humorous lines the dynamics of dysfunction and interference of inferiority that can often seduce a young and vibrant but unsure couple and reduce them to jealous, petty, self-loathing soap stars overnight. Oh, you know what I'm talkin' about. All ya'll single folk have been there. Don't lie. You know you can't never trust the purty ones.

Other highlights include in the lazy fiddle hooks (keep the fiddle Jabe, I implore you!) of "Checkout Girl" and "It Don't Bother Me," the dusty pick-up truck funk of "Put Away Your Water," and the bluesy swagger of "Forever is a Long Time," all of which are first rate songs that, luckily for us, are all included on this very disc. Though let me stress that every song on this disc is a good song. Seriously. Catchier than smallpox in a government blanket, cowguys and cowgals.

After paying close attention to these songs, it is my contention that Mr. Beyer deserves to be drunk on every drop of that songwriting award, even if it does make him officially sanctioned by the MAN. Its attention to words and mood (nee "instrumentation") where his songwriting excels, simplicity unencumbered by tight tricky arrangements or overstatement. This right here is a CD to get fall down drunk to, son, so sip back (yee-ha!) and ponder yourself a question--if JABE are a bunch of vampires (country 'uns at THAT), how come they don't suck? And where's the nasty aftertaste and resulting hangover?