Singer, songwriter and guitarist Joel Timmons, who hails from Sullivan’s Island in South Carolina, has been at it for decades. He’s one of several pistons in the well-honed Sol Driven Train, which has been riding the rails since 2000, half of the folk-rock duo Sally & George with his better half, upright bassist Shelby Means, and plays in Maya de Vitry’s band. Psychedelic Surf Country, however, is his first solo set. Produced by de Vitry, it blends country, rock, surf, pathos and fun, sometimes all in the same song, and reminds me of the pre-Americana, pre-alt.country era, when bands such as the Long Ryders, Jason & the Scorchers, X, and the Blasters were doing the same, with the main difference being the mindset that comes with age.
“Just a Man,” about his dad, kicks off the 11-track set. As kids, of course, we often overlook the foibles, flaws and eccentricities of our parents for no other reason than we don’t know any better. As adults, though, we see them for who and what they were: decidedly human. “He’s just a man,” Timmons sings. “It took me so many years to understand.” The song easily moves from a surf-rock opening to a fiddle breakdown, and includes the remarkable image of his father, a flaming torch in his hand, setting a hundred Christmas trees ablaze. “Turbo” chugs along on a Chuck Berry backbeat while memorializing life on the road—and an ill-timed traffic stop. Throughout, Timmons’ voice is a weathered instrument that flavors his story-songs with gravitas and grit. The sweet sounds of the women singers who join him here and there—Cary Ann Hearst, Means, and de Vitry—further enhance those seasonings. “The Bullfighter” is a good example:
“Guitars, Guns, and Pickup Trucks,” which features the Del McCoury Band’s Jason Carter, is a deft look at those things can bridge divisions. (To take a Meat Loaf lyric out of context, “two out of three ain’t bad.”) The ethereal “End of the Empire,” which he wrote with his wife, began life on a small boat in the Virgin Islands; it blends picturesque imagery with elements drawn from his unsettling dreams.
“Cottage by the Sea” incorporates a cinematic quality to the lyrics, which find him longing for his island home. The moody “Say It to My Face,” on the other hand, finds Timmons looking back at an old friendship that’s withered away. “The Swimming Song,” meanwhile, conjures carefree summer days—and a near-drowning incident—while a Link Wray rumble serves up a strong undertow. “East Nashville Cowboy,” for its part, paints a telling portrait of a whimsical wannabe who’s searching for a soulmate.
The acoustic-minded “Here We Are” is a sweet tune about being with the one he loves. Life on the road, no doubt, makes such moments rare—but never out of mind. The album closes with the taut “Tryin’,” about expanding one’s head and heart—and quitting cigarettes, smartphones, and life’s many distractions, plus making time. It sounds like a refugee from ‘70s rock radio, just about.
In short, Psychedelic Surf Country resonates much like a Link Wray solo—seemingly simple and straightforward on the surface, but expansive and deep the further one goes into the notes.
The Old Grey Cat 