JASON & THE SCORCHERS: HOT CRACKERS TO GO!

Even if Willie Nelson only releases 10 albums this year, 1985 has already distinguished itself as a truly terrific time for good old-fashioned Amurrican music. Just think about it: In the first few months alone, we’ve been bit by Los Lobos, burned by the Blasters, and fried by John Fogerty! What a deal! And if that’s not enough, you can always get another copy of Eliminator and pretend it’s new, too.

None of these fine recorded efforts, however, outshine Lost And Found, the first feature-length offering from Jason & the Scorchers. After two promising EPs, the homegrown Reckless Country Soul and the widely-praised Fervor, Jason Ringenberg and his boys have hit the jackpot. Forget that they used to be called the Nashville Scorchers, if it makes you nervous, ’cause on Lost And Found these guys just plain burn, the way classic rock ’n’ roll's s’pozed to. I like to think of ’em as a down-home Ramones, which doesn’t come close to describing the sound, but does give a pretty good indication of the level of intensity.

Anyway, meeting with lead singer Jason and Scorcher guitarist Warner Hodges recently reminded me what a strange thing this business of rock ’n’ roll is. Most of the time, interviews with supposedly professional musicians seem to revolve around everything but music. For all the chatter about image, money, sex, and marketing strategies, you might as well be talking to a game show host or a circus performer! Not so with Jason and Warner. When we sit down in their record company’s 'Manhattan office for the obligatory new-LP promo rap, the conversation focuses almost exclusively on what’s in the grooves and how it got there. In other words, I failed to find out their favorite mixed drink, preferred brand of underwear, or even what they like to do on days off. So sue me. At the time, Lost And Found seemed a lot more interesting.

They’re a real odd couple, these two Scorchers. Jason Ringenberg, the laconic vocalist who sometimes recalls Gram Parsons, is a pale, soft-spoken guy who seems too mild-mannered to front a band. Fiery axeman Warner Hodges, by contrast, is a beefy, boisterous chap who could work as a construction foreman if he wasn’t rockin’. It’s easy to imagine serious disagreements between Jason and Warner—they don’t seem to have much in common.

One thing they do share is a genuine enthusiasm for Lost And Found. “I’m super happy with it,’’ grins Hodges. “That album was a lot easier to make than we anticipated. We developed a new tightness in our playing over the last year, but didn’t really notice it until we went into the studio in Nashville to lay down tracks.’’.

Adds Jason, “We’ve never thought of ourselves as musicians. We’ve always just considered ourselves the raw, aggressive, new kids on the block, so when we heard ourselves getting good, it was very exciting.”

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Billing to the contrary, Jason & the Scorchers are a true group, not a star plus a backing band. Hodges and bassist Jeff Johnson handled the pre-production planning, and, along with drummer Perry Baggs, cut a number of the backing tracks before Jason even showed at the studio.

Isn’t it a little odd for the alleged leader to be absent? “No, I trust Warner and Jeff to do what’s right,” says Ringenberg. “And I think it stimulates their creativity if I’m not there. I’m a nervous, anxious type—it’s real hard for me to sit around and listen to tracks over and over.”

Hodges agrees: “It’s not good to have him in the studio if he doesn’t have something to do.”

One of the keys to Lost And Found’s success was the fact that the Scorchers felt at home in the studio for the first time. Like a lot of bands that enjoy playing live and do it well, they hadn’t come to grips with the creative difference between onstage and on tape before the sessions began. Their EPs were both cut on the cheap, when just getting something on vinyl was a major accomplishment.

Recalls Jason, “Recording used to be such a trauma for me. I couldn’t sleep the night before a session and afterward I’d be a real basket case. I just couldn’t deal with the fact that there were no people to sing to.”

With more at stake this time, it was important not to fritter away EMFAmerica’s money simply trying to cure mike fright. Ringenberg notes that Hodges and producer Terry Manning came up with a gimmick to soothe his frayed nerves. “Terry and Warner had me sing through a PA system—I didn’t wear headphones—and they taped the mike cord to the microphone, so that it was like singing live, which made it a lot easier for me-to get the right attitude. Recording the LP turned out to be a pleasure.

“Jim Dickinson [co-producer of Fervor] once told me something about recording that’s stuck in my mind. He said, ‘Just remember, you’re not moving sweaty audiences, you’re moving electrons.’ And sure enough, when we’d get in a groove during Lost And Found, it’d seem like the whole studio would come alive. The walls would vibrate, the air would be pregnant with expectation, and we’d know we were on to something.” (Sounds like a weird trip, eh?).

Hodges: “This time around, we learned how to create in the studio. Instead of thinking, ‘We’re live musicians playing to a tape machine,’ it became a growing process. For example, I’ve known Perry Baggs for 10 years and always thought of him as just the guy who writes a few songs and beats hell out of the drums. Towards the end of the recording, he was actually starting to notice things like when the cymbal stand was rattling. I couldn’t believe it!”

Jason laughs, “This is the guy who showed up at our first-ever recording session with a tree branch for a drumstick.”

‘‘Remember how pumped up everyone else'was then?” says Hodges. “The first thing Perry did was ask me when we’d be finished, ’cause he had a date that night!”

Ringenberg praises producer Manning, who’s engineered for everyone from Led Zeppelin to ZZ Top to the Staple Singers, for creating a sympathetic atmosphere. “Terry knows how to get your best performance. When I’m cutting vocals, I always know immediately whether I’ve hooked the groove right—I don’t even have to listen to the playback. Terry would always know if I could do better, too.”

Jason and Warner agree that the highlight of making Lost And Found was cutting “Far Behind” with legendary county music sessionmen Earl Poole Ball (piano), Kenny Lovelace (fiddle), and Donald Spicer (slide guitar). “It sent chills up our spines,” declares Ringenberg. “We were so honored to work with those guys. Listening to the playback was a religious experience, it really was. There were tears in my eyes.”

Warner experienced his own special thrill when James Burton dropped by the studio. (For you youngsters, Burton was perhaps the bitchin’ guitarist of the early rock era. Ask Jimmy Page or Ritchie Blackmore, and they’ll tell you that Burton’s solos on Ricky Nelson records are the livin’ end.) Hodges even got the great man to come by his pad and hang out. “We sat around and drank a few beers,” he remembers, wide-eyed.

“He sat in my living room! It was amazing! He showed me some licks and I was burnt! After that, it was kinda hard to go back to the studio. If James Burton’s just a guitarist, I’m a cook!”

Respect for tradition is important to the Scorchers. Speaking reverently of their forefathers in Nashville, they’re acutely aware that they’re walking on sacred ground once trod by the likes of Jerry Lee Lewis, Johnny Cash, and Elvis Presley. In fact, the limo on the back cover of Lost And Found once belonged to Jerry Lee himself. But Jason is quick to explain that the Scorchers are not a revival band.

“We’re trying to take timeless feelings and apply them to today, not sound like 1948 or 1968. Our audience is mostly kids. We’re a modern band.”

That’s easy to verify. Just check out the blistering rendition of Hank Williams’s “Lost Highway” on side two. The original version was mournful and slow. In the Scorchers’ sweaty hands, the song becomes a Roman candle, fast and furious. What would Hank say?

At the same time, they’re old-fashioned boys, singing about eternal human miseries in “Broken Whisky Glass” and “Blanket Of Sorrow” with the skill of grizzled vets. Ringenberg concedes, “There are some dark passages in there, but I think the overriding feeling is one of hope.”

While all this noble talk about music is well and good, ultimately the nasty old music business has to be acknowledged. More than one talented band with good intentions has run aground on the harsh realities of low sales, company politics, and other foolishness. Jason seems unperturbed. “Music is the most important thing in my life, but the music business is like a big football game,” he says. “I’m real interested in how the plays work, but it’s a game.

“We believe that if we make good music, it will be commercially viable. But if Lost And Found doesn’t sell, it won’t be our fault. It’s a great rock ’n’ roll album for 1985.

“We have a quiet confidence that we are a good rock ’n’ roll band and will remain so.”

Say amen, somebody!