Album review: Roky Erickson, 'True Love Cast Out All Evil'
Rating: 3.5 stars (out of 4)
In his first album in more than a decade, Roky Erickson has some wicked flashbacks. He pleads for a judge’s mercy. He longs for a past when the earth didn’t shift beneath his feet. And he prays. When all hope fades, he turns into a mass murderer.
For decades, Erickson’s music has danced with demons, a struggle documented in songs populated by outlandish visions, the aural equivalent of the nightmares and horror movies invading the singer’s damaged mind. “True Love Cast Out All Evil” (Anti-) looks back on the psychic toll and makes a plea for mercy, understanding, grace, a way back.
Erickson at 62 remains one of rock’s greatest singers, a voice of harrowing power and bittersweet conviction, first with ‘60s psychedelic pioneers the 13th Floor Elevators and then on a solo career touched by genius and ravaged by mental illness. For decades, Erickson’s only outlet for his real-life struggles was his music.
Now transformed by proper medical treatment and the care of family and friends, Erickson is on a late-career roll. His live performances the last few years are a reminder of why artists from R.E.M. to ZZ Top consider him an influence. With the assistance of producer Will Sheff and his band Okkervil River, the singer winnowed down 60 songs spanning his career to a dozen keepers. Five are drawn from his stay at a Texas mental hospital for the criminally insane in the ‘70s, where he was sentenced for marijuana possession and underwent electro-shock therapy.
Even without that context, these songs are impossibly poignant, Erickson’s voice transparent and vulnerable, the lyrics direct yet poetic, sifting through years of pain for signs of hope. With the exception of the howling “John Lawman,” the music is contemplative and atmospheric, a mix of field recordings from the past and unfussy, live-in-the-studio interactions. Country twang and chiming guitars predominate, the tone reflective while ghost-like textures drift in and out, including the droning television sets and short-wave radios that used to blare in Erickson’s old apartment to drown out the voices in his head.
Fans may be disappointed by the lack of acid-rock overdrive. But even at its most low-key, Erickson’s music retains its unsettling power.
greg@gregkot.com
Sponsored Link: Amazon's Roky Erickson Store
In his first album in more than a decade, Roky Erickson has some wicked flashbacks. He pleads for a judge’s mercy. He longs for a past when the earth didn’t shift beneath his feet. And he prays. When all hope fades, he turns into a mass murderer.
For decades, Erickson’s music has danced with demons, a struggle documented in songs populated by outlandish visions, the aural equivalent of the nightmares and horror movies invading the singer’s damaged mind. “True Love Cast Out All Evil” (Anti-) looks back on the psychic toll and makes a plea for mercy, understanding, grace, a way back.
Erickson at 62 remains one of rock’s greatest singers, a voice of harrowing power and bittersweet conviction, first with ‘60s psychedelic pioneers the 13th Floor Elevators and then on a solo career touched by genius and ravaged by mental illness. For decades, Erickson’s only outlet for his real-life struggles was his music.
Now transformed by proper medical treatment and the care of family and friends, Erickson is on a late-career roll. His live performances the last few years are a reminder of why artists from R.E.M. to ZZ Top consider him an influence. With the assistance of producer Will Sheff and his band Okkervil River, the singer winnowed down 60 songs spanning his career to a dozen keepers. Five are drawn from his stay at a Texas mental hospital for the criminally insane in the ‘70s, where he was sentenced for marijuana possession and underwent electro-shock therapy.
Even without that context, these songs are impossibly poignant, Erickson’s voice transparent and vulnerable, the lyrics direct yet poetic, sifting through years of pain for signs of hope. With the exception of the howling “John Lawman,” the music is contemplative and atmospheric, a mix of field recordings from the past and unfussy, live-in-the-studio interactions. Country twang and chiming guitars predominate, the tone reflective while ghost-like textures drift in and out, including the droning television sets and short-wave radios that used to blare in Erickson’s old apartment to drown out the voices in his head.
Fans may be disappointed by the lack of acid-rock overdrive. But even at its most low-key, Erickson’s music retains its unsettling power.
greg@gregkot.com