I first wrote about Malcolm Holcombe’s music for PopMatters ten years ago. I wasn’t sure if he was authentically primitive and gruff or just putting on an act. I’ve seen him perform live since then, listened to the music he’s created since, and I’m still not sure. But I’ve realized, and have always known, that it really doesn’t matter. Holcombe’s music speaks for itself. His style may harken back to primeval times. Holcombe sings and plays guitar like a carpenter with a hammer that never met a nail. He has a coarse persona that has been made grotesque by modern life. However, he also has a soft soul and an empathetic sensibility. And there is something magical about his artistry.
Holcombe rants and raves about the state of the world (“I see pictures ev’ry day and the headline news / I cuss and pray at the world and the blues”). His deeper concern is about losing himself. He doesn’t want to be an invisible member of humanity and just disappear in the crowd or die alone away from home. It’s one thing to be a marginal member of society. It’s another thing to lead a marginal existence.
Holcombe celebrates old-fashioned values of family and love. On “It Is What It Is” Holcombe sings and proclaims faith in something bigger than the self. He may find some solace in religion, but he mostly doesn’t sound happy. As he sings on the track “Black Bitter Moon” that the title Come Hell or High Water comes from after the flood “comes the rain and the dread”. That whole pact with God and even a deal with one’s better self can just be another con game that leaves one lost.
That might seem like a drag, but Holcombe has a wry sense of humor about the whole thing. He often resembles other curmudgeons like John Prine and Robert Earl Keen. One is reminded of them on his Christmas song that goes, “Go to church when ya go / Go to hell if ya don’t / Merry Christmas” in the spirit of holiday cheer. However, Holcombe sings with the voice of a drunk with a bad cold. That’s not a slur against him. He inhabits the role of a Southern misfit in a way that would make Flannery O’Connor proud. His vocals function as a radical interruption from ordinary music and compel one to pay attention. And on this record the sweet-voiced Iris Dement joins in on the singing, not to mention the deep-throated vocals of Greg Brown. This layering often adds depth to Holcombe’s self-penned musings.
As for Holcombe’s acoustic guitar playing, one should note he includes a big section of artist Kylie Harris’ “Captain Beefheart’s 10 Commandments of Guitar Playing” in the CD package that offers such wisdom as:
- “Your guitar is not really a guitar. Your guitar is a divining rod. Use it to find spirits in the other world and bring them over. A guitar is also a fishing rod. If you’re good, you’ll land a big one.”
- Practice in front of a bush. Wait until the moon is out, then go outside, eat a multi-grained bread and play your guitar to a bush. If the bush doesn’t shake, eat another piece of bread.
- Don’t wipe the sweat off your instrument. You need that stink on there. Then you have to get that stink onto your music.”
That provides as good a description of Holcombe’s playing as one could imagine. He’s ably supported by Marco Giovino on drums and percussion and Jared Tyler on Dobro, mandolin, guitars, and vocals. Together they make a lot of noise.
Come Hell or High Water may not be subtle or urbane. But it can be sublime. Whether it’s the real deal or an original reproduction doesn’t really matter.