Jason Nesmith
"Shelter"
By Geordie Pleathur
(SugarBuzz Nation)
SugarBuzz Magazine
California Star...
I've no idea why the Killers and the Strokes both succeeded, when Nancy Boy failed.
Nancy Boy were Nesmith's retro, new wave, Gary Numan and Duran Duran-style, synth-glam band with Nigel Mogg from the Quireboys; and Donovan Leitch, from the Hurdy Gurdy Mushroom Man, Camp Freddy, and Calvin Klein. They had style-to-burn, loads of personality, a fantastic energy, and some really memorable tunes. His other more metallish bands, Kill For Thrills and the Beauties, were both pretty good, as well--two of the better groups from the eighties L.A. glam scene. Kill For Thrills cut two very cool, shipped-straight-to-cut-out-bin, under-appreciated diamonds, "Commercial Suicide", and "Dynamite From Nightmare Land", both 'worth owning, and again, with some quality tunes like, "I Wanna Be Your Kill", "My Addiction", "Motorcycle
Cowboys", and "Misery Pills", it's hard to grasp why they, too, failed to outsell so many atrociously inferior bands of the day, like Slaughter, Winger, Nelson, and Danger Danger. They blew away most all the second-string hair-bands, with their pop sensibilities, real rock'n'roll hearts, and an overall sense of coolness. I even dug Jason's least successful glam band, the Beauties. Currently, he sometimes, plays alongside, Marc Ford (ex-Black Crowes) in a band called, well, Marc Ford, I guess.
Anyway, all of Nesmith's rock bands were energetic, at least mid-tempo, Cheap Trick-ish, Rasberries-esque, Hanoi Rockin', big stadium-riffin', melodic, shape throwing, would-be, hit-makers, who sadly never sold enough records, for some mysterious reason I can not explain. "Shelter", his latest solo record, finds him in a moodier, more contemplative place. Turning the volume high on "Shelter", expecting his glam-rock youth, hard-pop heroics, however, is a bit like spinning a Kyle Vincent solo l.p., expecting to hear, the old Candy bubblegum blast-off, "Whatever Happened To Fun". It's springtime, and I was lookin' for something a little poppier...Uptempo, Big Starrish, Raspberries. I suppose most of these guys have just outgrown their wayward pasts, stumblin' round, in red cowboy boots, on the Sunset Strip. Lookin' for some a-c-t-i-o-n. That would make sense, seeing as how they're all in their mid-to-late forties, by now. 'You know that Fleetwood Mac song that your Mama, Courtney Love, Billy Corgan, and the Dixie Chicks all love? Well, Jason Nesmith's gettin' older, too.
One immediately arches an eyebrow, at the smoothly crooned, laidback, seventies, Laurel Canyon harmonies, that introduce the highly polished, opening song, "Masquerade", a melancholy meditation on a sour relationship, way past it's expiration date. They say his Pa, Monkee Mike, invented both country rock, and MTV, so it must be quite a trip, trying to blaze your own trail, when you look and sound, so much like the author of "Sweet Young Thing", "You Told Me", and "Different Drum". The guitars are stellar, throughout-they have a real cool, Paul
McCartney and Wings feel, it sounds like he's got a big Santana style rhythm section. All of these are likable, if somber, California rock songs, with a slightly elegiac, folksy feel, reminiscent of Black Crowes, Sheryl Crow, Counting Crows, Tom Petty, Lone Justice. All the baby-boomer cocaine cowboys. It's not as country-rock psychedelic as Beachwood Sparks. In some places, it's a little slick for me. Kindof big-budget, show-bizzy. It could use a little more sloppy, low-budget, D.I.Y., garagey edgeiness. This is sensitive, middle-of-the-road, grown-up rock, and since I still don't own a watch, or a car, or have a bank account, or possess a pair of socks that match, well, um, y'know...I'm still more likely to gravitate more towards juvenile gutter punk, than sleepy, adult-themed love songs. Whoever he writes this stuff about, can be sure he adores her, helplessly. This album gets sappy--and again, we're talkin' solo Kyle Vincent, heart-on-your-sleeve, sappy. You best believe he's in love, l-u-v...the undisguised sentiment he invests in these songs is startling. Jason Nesmith is one earnest dude. God Bless 'im. That's courageous.
Thing is, if you're gonna take the Lindsey Buckingham route, and write, sing, play guitar, and lovingly hand-craft really glossy studio albums, with mature, emotional love songs, intended, perhaps, for movie soundtracks, you're going to have to focus on writing more exceptional lyrics. That was much of Jackson Browne, Gram Parsons, and even the Eagles' appeal. They all wrote brilliantly sun-lit, picturesque lyrics. The world class musicianship, and C,S,N,& Y/Fleetwood Mac harmonies and radio-production are part of it, certainly, but for "grown up" rock
to be really effective, I really think there needs to be a focused dedication to crisp and vivid, even more eloquent, story-telling. Think Sting, Paul Westerberg, Marc Eitzel, or Don Henley quality lyrics. Women should want to listen to it with the windows rolled down, while speeding on the highway. There are, indeed, some memorable snatches of lyrics here, both the title track, "Shelter", and "Masquerade", f'rinstance, really capture and convey some elusive truths about the human condition, and the tedium, and deception, that often surfaces in even the strongest long-term relationships, and how wonderful it is, if you can ever discover even a fleeting sweet haven from the hopeless shit-storm of lies, and pointless wars all around us, but musically, I was, maybe, just hoping for something a little more upbeat. "Messed Up" sounds like a pained apology to his old lady, and it reminds me of that band, the Hutchinsons, from L.A. Good seventies pop. Same with "Regret", which gets a little cocktail loungey soft-rock for my sleaze-punk taste. Even if you're a fan of Jason's previous solo work, "Portrait", or "...Pleasure Island", "Shelter" might take a few plays to grow on you-especially if you were expecting any fizzy, hard-pop, antheming. This is the opposite of "Loud, Fast Rules".
"Shelter" simmers with a quiet angst, and strays off into syrupy sweet, Goo Goo Dolls/Disney-esque balladry, here and there-we're talkin' multiple, declarative pledges of undying devotion, and desire, that makes one gasp, after awhile...you just hope whoever he writes all this deeply felt, lovey-dovey-dovey stuff about, can FEEL IT, too, on some level. At least you BELIEVE chronic 
sentimentalist, Jason Nesmith, unlike, most of those commercial El Lay artists of his stature, who all seem compulsively preoccupied with Butch Walker/Linda Perry/Jack White's cash cow careerism, selling pink plastic product, to teen pop, brand-shills. Nesmith has sincerity. He's good. His record makes me think of beach houses, palm trees, that old Don Henley video for "Boys Of Summer". No real stand-out, shiny, "hits", though. My favorite song on this album is a charming, troubled, old fashioned, Appalachian folk ballad, "Shady Grove". I MUCH prefer his acoustic guitar picking, to his electric wizardry, because SOME of his lead playing is just so, so Studio-Flash, Steve Vai/Dweezil Zappa/whiz-kid slick, it's almost sterile. On other songs, he plays with so much intense, unbridled feeling, that you're less inclined to notice the all-too-generic, and obviously, personal lyrics. For all I know, he might be getting rich, as a studio pro. Movies and commercials. I dunno. He's undeniably gifted, enough to be one of those Phil Spector Wrecking Crew quality players...All us poor white trash loser has-beens can only DREAM of regular access to bigtime recording studios, but sometimes, it appears that lotsa those West Coast professional musicians, who have all that frequent access, forget how important it is to make it COUNT, there's an energy lost, when it becomes all about the polishing. Ennui kills.
Now, I know summa you whiskey-sodden Sugarbuzzers think all I listen to is Slaughter & The Dogs, Spencer P. Jones, and vintage Rose Tattoo. This is not entirely so. I LOVE Brian Wilson, power-pop, and the Chamber Strings, from Chicago. I liked all the songs Doug Hopkins penned for Gin Blossoms, the first Counting Crows record, the first two Wallflowers albums, some Brendan Benson, but personally, I HATE
Matchbox 20, and have no idea, how they became the most annoyingly over-played band on the planet, are ya with me?!! Robbie Thomas is the new Phil Collins. He just sucks. He's wose than Hootie. When did mediocrity become sexy? All I know, is it happened sometime in the nineties. Musically, Jason is mining a similar vein to all those groups, but without the Dylanesque poetry, or fake dreadlocks, of Adam Duritz. It's cool to see someone stepping out of their box, he's previously been a glammy guit-sling, for the most part, backing up Donovan, Gilby Clarke, and Steven McNeil, but Jason, please-please-please get a purple sparkly notebook, and start collecting more unusual rhymes, catchy phrases, strange impressions, descriptive observations. Please. I mean, I understand that not everyone's trying to write violet, celluloid, prose like Morrissey, or Elvis Costello, or Shane MacGowan, or Van Morrison...and sure...lots of good pop songs have a simple, straight forward, lyrical economy, from Hank Williams Sr. to some of Brian Wilson's best stuff...but this album's so personal, and vaguely literal, and simple, lyrically-speaking, it loses me. "Shelter" reminds me of Jason Falkner, only, without his boppy, whimsical, fun, Fountains Of Wayne side. "My Arms Around You" has grown on me, over a few days, 'reminds me of an elegantly under-stated, solo George Harrison song.
Jason Nesmith is such a personable, decent, and thoroughly likable human being, one is loathe to critique his weaker areas, because you're just rootin' for him to succeed, on all fronts, but I respect his talent, and his songwriting potential too much, to stay mum, on summa the blander, ho-hum, to-do-list, generic lyrics. He's a smart and gifted guy, who can easily develop as a more colorful rock'n'roll poet, but he's coasting a bit here, on his world-class guitar playing. He gets no
ghetto-pass in the lyrics department from THIS guttersnipe, cus I KNOW he's capable of more imaginative imagery. Maybe he's just feeling grey. His voice is excellent, inevitably similar to Monkee Mike's. If you grew up liking introspective, moodier, pop bands like say, Jellyfish, Wilco, or the Wallflowers, it will be easy to find a spot in your heart for Nesmith. Put 'im on, in a Neil Young mood. I think the guy is carryin' around some kinda deep grief, unresolved pain, or is still maybe suffering aftershocks of surviving a broken heart, somewhere along the way. It's kinda like with Chris Isaac-these guys, who just seem to have so much goin' for 'em-looks, talent, a good job, that it's difficult to imagine how they could still be lonely, or yearning, or unsure of themselves, or feel distance from their loved ones, or disconnected from society, like us common hoods. Unhappy relationships are pretty common, nowadays. It's hard to stay together, and believe in love, family, or friendship, when there are so many incentives to break-up. The cosmetic industry, the diet industry, the diamond stores, shrinks, women's magazines, divorce lawyers, the pharmaceutical companies, and hell--in L.A., the automobile, real estate, and plastic surgery industries, all profit from stoking people's vanity, greed, and loveless desires. People don't even have genuine friends, anymore. They're all too busy, competing. Clocking
one another's hair-lines, laugh-lines, Botox, bank accounts. America is a divided and conquered land of lawless elites, corporate tyranny, broken down families, cruel exploitation, and empty consumption. It sucks. Everybody feels it, even if most are brainwashed, Kardashian-viewers, dumbly texting and Twittering about vacuous sports and ugly reality shows. Intimacy and loyalty and love and honesty are the recurring themes of Nesmith's "Shelter". Like I said, grown-up stuff. Mortagages, fidelity, property, bills, shame, and self-doubt, all the gruelling, quiet trials of domesticity. It'll surely hit home with anyone in the midst of a private life drama baby mid-life crisis, or someone who's deep in reflection, and in the process of moral inventorying the wreckage of their past. Real serious James Taylor stuff. Like the rest of America, I'm just lookin' for some cheap escapism, while Nesmith's lookin' in the mirror. Gutsy guy. I dunno how this record will be received, or if his label is savvy enough to market it towards the Wilco/ Jayhawks/Creek-Dippers/World Cafe/Starbucks Soccer Mom/Public-Radio audience. I think if it gets any air-play on public radio, it'll find a cozy place around the campfire with the alt-country, "No Depression" set. One of these songs, I think it was, "These Times", even reminds me of Big Star's timeless and beautiful song, "Thirteen". It's really nice. Sometimes you want nice, y'know?
This whole punishing, rat-race, stress and tension around us makes me wanna retreat to the "Shady Grove", and just hide-out with my banjo.
Nesmith fans will likely love this album, while more casual listeners will appreciate it as nice, soothing, background music, there's nothing objectionable, or unpleasant, about this work, but it's not a collection of hits that go pop. Or bang. Or Shazzzam. Jason's got to be true to himself, and he's just not in a hard or heavy, rock'n'rollin' roman-candle mood, right now. He's a really talented, and genuine
human being, and I'm sure there's a wide audience for this mellow, adult music, I just doubt it's going to be super accessible to the rock'n'roll people at the Rainbow Bar And Grill. It's pretty, but sad. Selfishly, I'd just like to see him shave off that First National Band beard, and reassemble a kickass rock group, rent a Nudie suit, and hit the road, but, hey, that's just me. I'm old fashioned. 'Still like that old-time rock'n'roll. The world has changed, the rockers have been replaced with all that loathsome Miley Cyrus/Robin Thicke corporate Spam, we're far from free in Police State America, and all day long, I'm muttering obscenities here about, "oh, my poor aching back", but I still reminisce about the days of old.
Am I the only one holding my breath for a third Nancy Boy album? Now is the time! The Yeah Yeah Yeahs are HUGE! Fake new wave, electro-clash, gay-disco, romantic-modern, junk-electronica, and circus-glam is eveywhere! Nancy Boy could tour with Lady Gaga. Or at least, the Scissor Sisters. I know Donovan's somewhere on the golf-course, thinkin' the same exact thing! Aren't Depeche Mode even reuniting to cash-in on the new wave revival? Donno's already master-minding the festivals, tie-in's, designer sponsorships, Project Runway appearances, Nancy Boy TM for Target leisure-wear, the Nancy Boy reality show...This may surprise some of you, comin' from me, but you know what??? Donovan Leitch is a goodfella, too. I've partied with those guys. They're both real dudes. Talented, charismatic, good humoured. Jason's solo album? I'm gonna keep listening to it. It's just less "Chuck Berry" than I wanted it to be.
THE VERY COOL AND REMARKABLY TALENTED JASON NESMITH:
http://www.myspace.com/nesmithmusic
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8OcFDfBSCbE&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nQZ_v-jnly8
REUNITE NANCY BOY FOR ANOTHER STUDIO ALBUM:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6bnGyyCbeEw&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MkC1HbZlA-o
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lxnuh7XjYHo&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cxjJj3ZAsJg&feature=related
RELATED LINKS:
http://www.myspace.com/gilbyclarke