from their "Tales of The New West" 1985. Rhino

The Beat Farmers arrived a little late to pick up on the momentum of early cowpunk acts like Jason and the Scorchers, and were too early to be tied in with the alt-country scene that followed in the wake of Uncle Tupelo. But the Beat Farmers were too busy having a good time and playing great music to worry much about career timing, and their 1985 debut, Tales of the New West, is a casual masterpiece, a great little record that delivers a fistful of killer tunes and a few laughs with plenty of sweat and not much fuss. Before recording their debut, the Beat Farmers honed their chops playing countless bar gigs around San Diego, and the live work shows -- this is a ferociously tight band, with Jerry Raney and Buddy Blue trading off some superb guitar byplay, while bassist Rolle Dexter and drummer Country Dick Montana hold down the beat with muscle and a near flawless sense of rhythm. The band was capable of coming up with great songs on occasion, and they knew where to turn when their muse was busy elsewhere -- "Bigger Stones" and "Where Do They Go" are impassioned and even poignant without getting sappy, "Lost Weekend" and "California Kid" get laughs but never undercut the music (the latter also gave Country Dick his first chance to show off his outsize persona in public), and the covers of Bruce Springsteen's "Reason to Believe." Lou Reed's "There She Goes Again," and John Stewart's "Never Goin' Back" put a sharp and individual spin on familiar material. Steve Berlin (of Los Lobos) and Mark Linett produced Tales of the New West on a shoestring budget, and the small bankroll may have helped -- the performance sound live and wiry, without a lot of polish getting in the way, and the straightforward treatment gets their mixture of snark and sincere on tape in all its glory. And once you've heard Country Dick sing "Happy Boy," be assured you'll never forget it. A left-field triumph, and the best and most satisfying album this fine band would ever release.

AllMusic Review by Mark Deming [-]

The Beat Farmers were already on a major label tour by the time I stumbled into them during the summer of 1986. They were opening for the Smithereens in Morgantown, West Virginia, and I was there with the now ex-wife of one of my best friends, and some doughy childhood friend of hers who had married a young mortician whose lodge meeting conflicted with our last-minute free tickets.

It's really not that good a story, but like much of the Beat Farmers' recorded output, it reads like it ought to have been something more than it was. We retired to the bowling alley for a warm beer during the Smithereens' set, and left early, bored.

But Country Dick Montana was not somebody you forgot easily, once you'd seen him (imagine the moonshine-drunk bear from Lord Buckley's "God's Own Drunk" rap playing drums), so back home in Seattle I bought the records and went to the shows. Well, some of the records: the San Diego band's 1985 debut Tales From The New West eluded me, and after a while the power of their shtick (like that of running-mate Mojo Nixon) seemed to overwhelm every other impulse.

That debut, augmented by the follow-up EP Glad N' Greasy, four demos, six tracks from the privately released Live At The Spring Valley Inn, and the unreleased "Watching The River", make up the limited-edition release at hand. It's less a revelation than a reminder, for like so many great live bands, the Beat Farmers didn't tame well in the studio.

It's also an interesting snapshot of the still-early days of west coast punk, of a time before the lines were so clearly drawn that it remained reasonable to cover Springsteen's "Reason To Believe" alongside Lou Reed's "There She Goes Again", to work Neil Young's "Powderfinger" into a set list that also included Johnny Cash's "I Still Miss Someone".

Their own material, particularly during these early years, was that same gloriously confused hodgepodge and barrage, but -- not surprisingly -- generally not that powerful (see the demo of "Gun Sale At The Church", which comes frustratingly close to being something). But the truth is, if you weren't there, sticking to the beer on the floor and looking for more, it's hard to argue that you should care, today, about these songs. You had to be there, and if you weren't, it's too late to go back now.

by Grant Alden April 30, 2004 / No Depression

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