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Taoist Cowboys, Punt (Lynn
Point Records)
Of the million or so cassette-only releases by Knoxville
bands over the past 15 years, there is one that I think most
deserved to be plucked from demagnitized oblivion: Punt
by the Taoist Cowboys. My copy melted years ago in a
sweltering Toyota, but its melodies lingered on somewhere in
the back of my head, never quite fading away. And that's
simply because it was damn good—an infectious collection of
jangly guitar pop with lyrics that captured small moments that
meant a lot.
Produced way back in 1992, Punt documented the
evolving talents of one of this town's finest songwriters,
ever: Bob McCluskey. It was also a wonderfully musical
rock album, with fiddles, saxophones, keyboards, penny
whistles—hell, even an opera singer—appearing in all the
right places. Now, courtesy of Lynn Point Records and ace
sound engineer Seva's remastering of the original studio
tapes, Punt is back out in CD form, sounding better
than it ever did before and reaffirming its title as a
Knoxville classic.
While its boyish lyrics, twangy twin-guitar solos, and
sweet-natured harmonies (this is an album on which guys sing
"doo-wah" and really mean it) might get sneered off
alternative radio these days, Punt doesn't sound dated.
It was never really intended as a "commercial"
album, no matter how catchy its hooks, so it didn't succumb to
the "college rock" rules (now clichés) of the day.
Whereas you get the feeling that most bands today are simply
imitating something they saw on MTV, the Cowboys were
originals. Mixing McCluskey's love of '70s guitar bands like
Thin Lizzy, guitarist Scott Carpenter's deft country-ish
picking, Brad Deaton's rockin' bass, and the jazzy
touch of future V-roy drummer Jeff Bills, the Cowboys
were a multi-purpose band that could switch off from dreamy
guitar pop ("Mind Chime") to Rolling Stones
country-rock ("Shit On You") to KISS-like power
chord anthems ("Liquid Plumr"). The group was a
melting pot of not-necessarily-commercial musical ideas, which
came into being in the Fort Sanders garage of 2306 Laurel.
But underneath the simple hooks and intertwined guitar work
of Punt is McCluskey's lyrical persona, equal parts
naive and knowing-boyish optimism in the face of certain
defeat. You can hear it in Punt's lead-off track,
"Back With You," that's simultaneously exultant and
exhausted as McCluskey talks with his ex about getting back
together again ("Bumper bumper bumper cars/ just for fun
we bump too hard/ and I'm back with you/ you're back with
me...I know it won't last/ We'll try to be friends/ we can't
be only that..../here we go again!"). Bob's writing
conveys a certain melancholy at growing up, as if he still
wishes he could play like a kid, even at adult games. In
"Falling Up," he stops the song and sings
plaintively, "Was it in a movie that I heard/ that God
got the whole thing backwards/ we should start as orphans,
crippled and crass/ grow into children, save the best for
last...?" My favorite is "Mind Chime," a gentle
song that captures perfectly a moment in time, when he took a
date to a Little League game. Every detail is there, from the
gossiping parents to the smell of hot dogs, a meshing of
boyhood imagery and wistful romance that's unique to
McCluskey's songwriting. In his later group, the Estradas, his
abilities seemed to be coming into full flower.
Sadly, a few years later, McCluskey underwent brain surgery
to repair an aneurysm; it effectively put his songwriting and
singing on hold. Word is that he may at long last be ready to
return to the studio to record those long-lost Estradas tunes.
I hope so. We could sure use him back.
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