Billy Bob Thornton Albums (4)
What The Critics Say
Beautiful Door is actor Billy Bob Thornton's fourth recording, and here he leaves the concepts, social and political ideas, and American mythologies behind for something more personal. Thornton's previous albums have all been idiosyncratic, with moments of something approaching genius, and others far more frustrating and head-scratching in their excesses. On 2005's Hobo, the most conceptual of all, he at least pared the sound back and got the germ of how a real band should sound, and there were the seeds of ideas that are also articulated in Beautiful Door's 12 songs -- all written with guitarist Brad Davis -- albeit the mirror image of them in that their themes are far more personal and reflective. As on its predecessor, the band is small here. Thornton plays drums (rudimentarily) and percussion, Davis is on guitars, and veteran bassist Leland Sklar and organist Ted Andreadis are here as well. Graham Nash guests, contributing backing vocals to three tracks, including the title. Musically, this feels something akin to a sleepy Dave Alvin record. There's nothing wrong with sleepy. In fact, in Thornton's case it works for him. He and his band stroll along the edges of roots rock and country and meld them seamlessly. He's terribly concerned with his lyrics carrying weight, and that you know exactly how he feels about things, but for all the excess, there is a songwriter in here who has begun to emerge in earnest. These tunes feel like memory flashes captured on aging Polaroid photographs, whether they are extended reflections on years past ("In the Day"), road songs about women ("I Gotta Grow Up" and "Carnival Girl"), personal reminiscences about the changes in the American landscape ("In the Day"), or ruminations on loss, which outnumber the rest. In fact, through these simple, gently rocking tunes, Thornton's sense of emotions, loneliness, and regret is profound. It haunts him like the ghostly, blurred picture of him on the back of the CD booklet. It's all sepia, details flit by, and what's left is the scar on the heart. An entire album of this may wear on you if you're not ready or in the mood for it, but that doesn't mean it's a bad record -- far from it. It's one for the nighttime hours, those that either immediately precede troubled sleep, or directly commence when waking from a dream with near fatal existential panic in your chest. Thornton seems to speak to those lonely moments without whining about them. This isn't everybody's cup of poison to be sure, but for those drawn to the wee-small-hours reflections of Alvin, Tom Russell, or Malcolm Holcombe, this is for you. ~ Thom Jurek, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
On his two previous recordings, Billy Bob Thornton offered eclectic mixes of songs and spoken word pieces, looking through rock & roll, blues, and country -- or at least his approximation of them. They were largely done in affairs where he was learning the craft of writing and arranging and finding out what worked -- and a lot of it did. On Hobo, Thornton, Randy Mitchell, and Matt Laug pare it all way back. Other than a pair of backing vocals by Mica Roberts and Dwight Yoakam, the trio did everything themselves. The album is centered around California, land of hopes and dreams, where sometimes the dream goes bust and other times it turns into a nightmare. It's an album about a mythical and actual frontier -- people still go there with stars in their eyes every day. But California is also the micro-view of America, and Thornton understands this implicitly. His songs are peopled with wanderers, the trapped, the doomed, and the transcendent. Slippery country- rock fuels this song cycle, where poetry is as important as sound. Perhaps no song sums up the truth of the hard-bitten better than "I Used to Be a Lion," a ballad where the bottom has dropped out, the road has come to an end, and the brokenness in the protagonist's voice has become a whisper instead of a roar; the protagonist can do nothing but look back. "Late Great Golden State" is an elegy and a statement of purpose where the sign says "Welcome One and All" -- visionaries, hucksters, and just plain normal folks looking for a better way. But expectations have to be left at the gate because this is no longer -- or perhaps never was -- the land of milk and honey, but a place where only the strong survive. You get the idea. Other tracks, like "O.C. Suicide" and "Gray Walls," which closes the album, offer dark sides of the illusion, but these are illusions that not only seduced but held their sufferers. And all the while there are the shimmering, slow, slippery guitars, even slower drums, and Thornton's road-weary, gravely voice threading it all together. It's not Steinbeck, and it's not pretty, but it is evocative, heartfelt, and a musical ride all its own. Recommended. ~ Thom Jurek, All Music Guide
'The Edge of the World'
Release Date 8/19/2003
Tracks 16
Label Sanctuary
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What The Critics Say
On Private Radio, his first album, Billy Bob Thornton and his co-collaborator Marty Stuart crafted a quirky, off-kilter series of haunting songs/stories that walked around country music like it was the middle of the night. The result was a poetic and moving recording filled with expressionistic images and characters who could have come from Sling Blade. Not so with Edge of the World. Thornton is less a poet here than a guy who wants to write and sing rock & roll songs. And he does it in spades. This is the real working-class hero album. There is no rebellious street corner poet here informing listeners of the hidden greater meaning in broken narratives of everyday life with elegant language and vulnerable hooks and melodies. Nope. This is a balls-out rock & roll record where Thornton takes off the gloves; it could have been recorded by the sheriff Darl, the character he plays in The Badge. In songs like "Emily," "Everybody Lies," and "Island Avenue," Thornton is the unredeemed side of Bruce Springsteen and John Mellencamp. Here's the guy who is trying to learn to write songs and gets to record them. He talks plenty of garbage, but it all feels true rather than, as in the case of the aforementioned songwriters, an archetype for truth. He's not interested in convincing the listener of anything. These songs are small truths, they reflect some picture Thornton has decided is worth etching into his psyche and coming up with a way of expressing: which is rollicking, freewheeling, full of a biker's hidden human charm and a reluctant, Monday through Friday garage mechanic's wild heart on a lonely Saturday night. On these sides, Thornton relies on his road band with the requisite appearances by special guests. The late Warren Zevon appears on "The Desperate One," the most poignant song on the record, where Thornton's voice spits his anger through a rambling, anthemic country-rock wall of noise that the Eagles tried many times to construct but could never let go enough to pull off. Daniel Lanois, Chely Wright, David Briggs, and Marty Stuart are also present in strategic places, such as on "Savior," where Lanois' trademark atmospheric approach to playing the steel guitar puts the message of the tune in the blood of the listener. The chunky organ playing of Zevon is a stark contrast to Lanois' guitars on "Midnight Train." On "To the End of Time," a broken and edgy love song near the end of the album, Mickey Raphael and Stuart turn in tough, bluesy performances to root the track in some obsessive bloodline of desire never extinguished. The only thing that doesn't work all the way here is the overly lush cover of Fred Neil's "Everybody's Talking," but even this -- with its organs, twanging Telecasters, and strings -- is compelling for its shambolic treatment. This record isn't a train wreck, but it is a messy living room on Sunday morning after a haphazard party the evening before. It feels real, dirty, overly ambitious, and necessary for anybody who enjoys the sound of rock & roll as a soundtrack to life rather than as an artistic concept. ~ Thom Jurek, All Music Guide
'Private Radio'
Release Date 9/25/2001
Tracks 12
Label Uptown/Universal
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What The Critics Say
Like many actors-turned-musicians, many listeners will look at Billy Bob Thornton's debut album, Private Radio, with a smug bewildered condescension, wondering what gives him the right to cut a record. The thing is, Billy Bob, like many other actors that also cut records, played in bands long before he appeared in films. It is true that his celebrity is part of the reason he was given a chance to record, but that long history of playing in bar bands serves him well on Private Radio, giving his voice a ruggedness and musicianship a welcome supplement. Of course, it helps that he's working with producer/co-writer Marty Stuart and has a team of studio veterans supporting him, giving the record a pleasing professional musicality. Private Radio is still Billy Bob's show, and he comes across like a Southern version of Tom Waits crossed with a Byrds-addicted Greg Allman, at times grumbling beat poetry over sparse acoustic guitars, at times slyly delivering roadhouse ravers, folk laments, and anthemic ballads. Sure, it's possible to imagine legions of listeners chortling at lines like "Angelina what's come between us?/Could it be the magic and mystery of love?" and there are other moments that sorta fall flat, either in their earnestness or their poetic jumble. Still, this is a pretty good record all the same, better than most Americana records of the late '90s, thanks in no small part to a terrific stretch of songs mid-record ("Walk of Shame," the rollicking "Smoking in Bed," "Your Blue Shadow," and "That Mountain"), and a good cover of Hank Williams' "Lost Highway." ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
