Jack-O. & the Tennessee Tearjerkers – The Disco Outlaw
Goner Records
Reviewed by Chip Norman

Jack Oblivian (a.k.a Jack Yarber) is back with his Tearjerkers, this time as The Disco Outlaw. I’m not sure what that means, but I do know that if a record was produced by a man called Oblivian, you’d damn well better be listening.

Your boy Jack Oblivian is getting older, the quality of his musicianship betraying his years. His fourth-outing with the Tearjerkers continues a drift from the fuzzed-out, shit-can recording quality of his past work. The Disco Outlaw rarely recalls Jack’s name-sake, the newly re-united Oblivians, nor does it evoke the Compulsive Gamblers. And for the better. At this stage in Jack Yarber’s career, a Rock n’ Roll retread would be the easy (read: boring) call. Thankfully, Jack’s songwriting hasn’t stagnated. The years since the release of The Flip Side Kid seem to have given Jack-O. the confidence to expand into new and dangerously grown-up directions.

Jack-O.’s disregard for the familiar lends to the success of The Disco Outlaw. Of course, the theme of being poor and not altogether bright is accounted for, but the hillbilly existentialism typical of Yarber’s work is not so pronounced as in previous records. The swamps, pawn shops, and empty bank accounts add color to a good time, but don’t bum out. Jack’s tonal approach, however, has changed significantly. Fewer and fewer moments lean on the comfortable, lo-fi static-crutch. In fact, The Disco Outlaw often gestures, un-hip, toward the sound of an out-of-touch Friday-night bar band. Played here are keys and solos, the sort of which might send shivers down the spines of insecure button-collecting, garage-punk snobs expecting personal affirmation in their musical tastes.

Each time the opening notes of a guitar solo have you prepared to wince, you are quickly reminded that Jack Oblivian knows how to play. And Jack-O. does play. The frequent and lengthy instrumental jams always manage to straddle the line of good taste, at times threatening Steppenwolf, but in the end, carrying corny tones to unexpectedly great effect. Notably, “Crook For Your Look” goes off with accordians blazing like the advertisement for a Friday’s Mardis Gras promotion. You grind your teeth, bracing for a very bad Cajun accent, only- the song is pretty good. This scene replayed itself a few times, before I decided to relax and listen. I found an album that is great and not perfect. But Jack-O. isn’t pefect, why should his records be?

Yarber doesn’t strain to break new ground in The Disco Outlaw. Nor does he kick that dead, garage-punk dog. This is an album of good songs for folks who like good music. Consistent hooks, restrained musicianship, and finding the unpredictability in well-worn formulas are feats easier said than done, and should be appreciated. But don’t mistake this new, mature approach for domestication; Jack Oblivian and the Tearjerkers might be stomping the boot more subtly, but you’ll still recognize the son-of-a-bitch that wrote “Nigger Rich.”

BUY IT, YA DAMNED FOOLS.

Straight digging The Disco Outlaw though I may be, watching this was a bummer:

There isn’t anything wrong with cleaning houses, I just don’t want to see Jack Oblivian made into a human interest story on the MTV. Filming Yarber vaccuming, and not slaying, is an exploitation of the worst order.

This guy shouldn’t be cleaning your house, he should be lining his own with sluts and money. So send Jack-O. your sluts and your money. And then Buddyhead. But Jack first, because he’s rad, and will likely mail you this rad record in return.

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