|
Here on the water no harm could come to me
But a revolver was left on my table by somebody
Just in case they said nonchalantly
"I've always been drawn to little details," says Nova Scotia, Canada's Buck 65. "It's easier to tell a story or paint a picture with a few details than it is by spelling it all out. That's what I think, anyway." After six thickly-knotted, future-folk-inflected, beat science albums, the big time may be beckoning this wordsmith who channels the moonshine spirits of Woody Guthrie, Rakim, Lou Reed, and others who've burrowed under the surface of things to get at the capital "T" truth. "I guess I've always been the kind of guy that tends to think about things too much, to analyze (them)," states Buck. "That can be a bad thing at times. I'm trying to learn how to just go from the gut more."
With little more than a blowgun that I made from an exhausted pen
I shot the stars out of the sky
When each one fell, sparkling to the ground
I made wishes that never came true
Since the late '80s, Richard Terfry (aka Buck 65) has mined hip-hop's rich possibilities, finding melted glass melodies and dented revelations in his faded denim pockets. There's the smell of good earth wafting off his words. His collar is decidedly blue and his mind a restless, agile phenomena. In recent years, he's often been compared to Tom Waits, with whom he shares a love of antique noisemakers and sliding symbolism. Waits' most recent album, Real Gone, dabbles in boom-bap similar to Buck's last full-length, the miraculously poetic Talkin' Honky Blues. While flattering, the frequent invoking of Waits gives Buck pause.
"I'm not too comfortable being compared to anyone," remarks Terfry. "And he's a legend, so that's a lot to live up to. I hear his son is into a lot of hip-hop stuff and plays it for his dad. That's cool. I don't know if he's ever heard my stuff, but that would be a thrill."
In 2005 he's getting a big push from major label V2 Records, who've just released a compilation of rarities and re-recordings called This Right Here Is Buck 65. The sustained mood reflects his recent interest in John Fahey and father of bluegrass music Bill Monroe. The country ribbon tied to his phat oak tree identifies him as a true original who excels at merging disparate concepts. His wonderfully scattershot new V2 bio shows his wide reaching fingerprints. Buck discusses the collection, "The choices were made by asking around. I got a lot of opinions. I thought about the old singles and crowd favorites from shows. I guess it's like a greatest hits, but it's too gross to call it that."
About the twangier aspects in his music, he comments, "Country music is very unpretentious most of the time. I think that's what I like about it the most. I'm a country person myself. I understand the voice. It's familiar. I can't relate to most hip-hop. It's from outside my experience. I like honesty."
The last line of his latest bio reads, "Buck sings folk songs." He's expressed a growing discomfort at being termed a hip-hop artist. For certain, he's a far cry from the mainstream definition put forth by Ludicrous and Puffy, but the jocular surrealism of Organized Konfusion, Masta Ace, and the Beastie Boys' MCA flows in his veins.
|
