Front Page Reviews & AIR

I’m at your function, and I’m an animal

I’m in your town, I got a warrant

We’re full grown men, and we act like kids

And I’ll face the music, next time we roll in…

--Deer Tick, "The Bump"

I was fired up when I downloaded “Miss K” this past August, the advance single off of Deer Tick's fourth LP, Divine Providence.  I drove to the beach, listening to it on repeat, nodding along.  The song was typical alt-country; mellow and melodic, with a slight edge of nastiness to offset the sweetness of lines like “you can have all my tomorrows.”  When McCauley pleaded “Talk dirty, turn me on, let’s get going,” I swore I could hear the pop and hiss of a can of beer opening, accompanied by his high-pitched snicker, in the background.

Two months later, I bought the record and put the needle down on the first track, “The Bump.”  Suddenly, I wondered why the hell “Miss K,” the last song on the album, was the first single.  “Miss K” is a fun tune, but it's no great departure from the past.  War Elephant (2007) and Born on Flag Day (2009) were poetic and touchingly raw, but also mournful and brooding; good music for an early Sunday morning hangover to which “never drinking again” is the common refrain.  The Black Dirt Sessions (2010) felt inconsistent, as if McCauley and the boys were searching for something to latch onto in the depths of their tour-tired, honky-tonk souls.  But on the first song of Providence, McCauley sneers and brags over an electric crunch, violent snare hits, and ragged group background vocals:  “I got a name, they call me the Bump, one night with me, is gonna mess you up.  I saw the light, and I ran like a fool, I’m a drunken devil, I’m not the king of cool!”  This is a new Deer Tick—and if you like drunk, sloppy rock, with no pretensions and no apologies, then you'll dig the album. 

I knew the story of this album: Deer Tick wanted their studio stuff to more closely represent their scattershot, unscripted live shows.  They are raucous affairs, complete with snot rockets and sweaty energy; McCauley is known to bring a six-pack up on stage with him and battle through the whole thing.  The band wanted less finger-picking and introspection and more distortion and drunken laughter.  These are great intentions, but replicating any element of a live show in the studio can prove to be more of a nightmare than realizing that the liquor store is closed on Sunday and you didn’t stock up.  However, these flannel-clad Rhode Island lads have fucking delivered.  From the dirty scrawl of “the Bump,” to the early 60’s dirt-rock vibe of the next tune, “Funny Word,” which starts out with McCauley calling someone in the studio a “fucking douchebag,” and features some classic, retro lead guitar work by Ian O’Neil, to the drinking anthem “Let’s All Go to the Bar”--the intention is palpable here.  McCauley says it best here: “I don’t care if there’s a hurricane, let’s all go to the bar. I don’t care if I’m the one to blame, let’s all go to the bar!”  The Holy Trinity here, for the band and listener, comes in the form of a shot of whiskey, a beer, and an open bar stool.  

Just when the party-vibe could overshadow the music (hello, Phish circa 2003) the album takes an interesting turn.  Drummer Dennis Ryan steps to the microphone and sings the folk song “Clowning Around,” which sounds as though it would be right at home on a Kinks record.  “And the devil is living in my basement, I’m trying hard to hide him from my wife.  I know someday I’m gonna have to face him, but for now I keep my secrets with the night.”  This isn’t drunken braggadocio.  Instead, it is the regret and questioning that comes with withdrawal, almost as if the boys of Deer Tick spent their “Sunday Morning Coming Down” hanging with Johnny Cash and Kris Kristofferson, at the Pawtucket, RI studio where they recorded Providence.

“Main Street” slips back into the welcome pattern of frayed vocals by McCauley and grungy riffs.  But this isn’t an easy rock song either—it has the self-pity of some of the tunes on Born on Flag Day, but the echoing chords and stomping of a Rolling Stones B-Side.  There’s new territory here that Deer Tick is mining, by combining influences (Nirvana, Hank Williams, John Prine, The Replacements) with booze, cigarettes, long hours of touring and jamming, and their own visions of the lives that they lead.  Of course, you might be hungering for the old Deer Tick at this point--a little more nuance, subtlety, lyrics that make you think beyond the bar.  But artists grow, and learn, and go through phases...and this one, for these Rhode Island boys, involves malt liquor, cocaine, and more power chords than ever before.

“Something to Brag About” continues the bender.  “Johnny’s got a bottle of wine, no one’s gonna make it to work on time,” barks McCauley, somehow combining the vibe of “Johnny B Goode” (again, some kickass old school blues guitar work by O’Neil) and “Foot Loose.”  Yeah, I said “Foot Loose.” Give it a listen, close your eyes, and tell me you don’t hear it.  Ryan takes the vocals again on “Walkin Out The Door,” with limited success, and then “Make Believe” scrapes a pick on your busted heartstrings in classic Deer Tick fashion.  

“Now It’s Your Turn” starts as a piano ballad, and I wish it was placed earlier.  It’s a beautiful tune, full of harmony and lyrics that cut to the core, “Our eyes make bridges burn, those nights are all we’ve earned, I’m alone, here’s my heart, now it’s your turn.”  When the song splits open with cranked overdrive guitars half-way through, it just feels good.  “Electric,” features McCauley musing over the hum of keys about burning money, playing electric, and getting high.  “I don’t need your friendly smiles, I’m just the breaks, and you’re the miles.”  We have to hope that the incessant playing and touring isn’t burning these guys out too much.  “I’ll always do my thing, while you have me on your string,” laments McCauley mournfully.

About 30 minutes after “Miss K,” we get one more song, “One Last Cigarette,” written by the Replacement’s Paul Westerberg.  It’s a fitting end to the album: it reminds us that this is still Deer Tick—the easy swing, the sprinkling of country keys, the open chords and coughing and laughter.  But this isn’t all they are, anymore, and that, more than anything, is what Divine Providence proves.  These guys want to be considered a simple bunch of dudes who just happen to write and play music when they get drunk.  And they are.  But there also much better than that, and it’s hard to completely obscure that much talent.  Here, it comes out loud and clear, and it comes on their terms.  

On the inside of the record, the lyric sheet reads: THIS RECORD WAS MADE IN 2011. PLAY THE FUCKER AS LOUD AS POSSIBLE (reminiscent of the note inside the epic film of the Band's last show: The Last Waltz).  And it makes sense for that cryptic message to be here, on the inside of Deer Tick’s grittiest, most straightforward album yet.  It makes sense to wonder what will come next.  It also makes sense to play the fucker loud.