"Hollywood Town Hall" Still Stands Tall, Thirty Years On

I don't know if I believe in any sort of fate. Sometimes, it strikes me that it's merely a way for people to justify good luck, as if we need some more substantial reasoning for anything good that may happen. The idea that somehow events are fated to occur because the stars are in a certain position in the sky is the sort of thing that's so silly, if it hadn't been started millennia ago, we would laugh in the face of whoever tried to create it. So no, I'm not inclined to think that dates are actually meaningful, or that they hold some kind of code to the world.

"Hollywood Town Hall" came out on my birthday. I was too young to be searching out music at the time, and The Jayhawks would never be popular enough to stumble across in the conventional ways, so I was obviously not listening to the record at the time. I find it interesting that it came out on that particular day, but since many more records have also come out on that day throughout history, it is only a bit of trivia. Fun trivia, but trivia nonetheless.

I wouldn't discover The Jayhawks until years later, through that vestigial thing known as VH-1. There was a song that played for a short time there I fell in love with, and when I sought out more about the record it came from, I quickly discovered it was a one-off gem. I did run across an interesting cover on that album, though. That would be the song, "Blue". It was the first time I had heard the name The Jayhawks, and that weird line is the way I was reeled in by a record that would become a fixture of my listening, although I wouldn't know that at the time.

"Waiting In The Wings" at first sounded too much like "Mary Jane's Last Dance", which would have been funny to me if I did the math and realized at the time which song actually came first. Perhaps having that similarity was the door to which I could walk in and embrace what The Jayhawks were doing, since it was different than just about anything else I would be listening to at that point in time.

The Jayhawks sound has always been something unique; a blend of two very different voices that bring echoes of folk and power pop together, washed over with fuzz guitar solos. They are non-traditional, but in their own way a quintessentially Americana band. Coming from the heartland, they embrace all the elements of the various stripes of the music synonymous with that geography, but glossed with a layer of accessible melody that was a harbinger for the entire alt-country movement that would soon be a fad.

Mark Olson's voice takes on the role of the small-town preacher foretelling doom if the simple way of life is left behind, while Gary Louris is the calm voice of reason who reminds us change is inevitable. There is a dynamic of friction between Olson's old-time folk, and Louris' modern noise. The push and pull between them is why the band would fracture, come together, then fall apart again several times over the years. But when they did find their way together, the competition between them brought out the best in the music.

As time would advance, the relationship between the two became easier to hear in the music. Olson grounded the music with an organic sense of storytelling, and Louris wanted to expand the band's sound and bring in all manner of experimental sounds. It would take its toll on the music later on, but at the point "Hollywood Town Hall" was made, neither was pulling hard enough to nudge the band off-center.

The organ swirling in the background of "Crowded In The Wings" indeed gives the song the feeling of an old time religious revival, with the sticky melody no different than the faith healer's silver tongue convincing people they were hearing the literal voice of God. The Jayhawks wouldn't work in the same way without Olson and Louris sharing the majority of the vocals as a tandem. It's the way their voices blend, giving us two different emotional resonances at the same time, that makes the music stand out. While I love "Rainy Day Music" dearly as well, there's an earnestness only Olson could bring to the table. Louris' voice by itself can't raise the music to the same heights as his fuzzy solos. One brings the power, the other the nuance. It truly takes a village, in other words.

"Hollywood Town Hall" is a simple album wistful for simpler times, painting a portrait for us of a reality that never was. It looks back with rose-colored glasses, taking the same building blocks The Eagles would use, but arranging them in a way that didn't sound like a group of jaded old cranks who want to bust teenagers in the knees with their canes. The Jayhawks were telling us what they felt we were missing from the old days, while keeping one foot in the present day.

It's remarkable how timeless the album sound, as if it exists outside of any trend, style, or fad. As I listen to it now, the record sounds too old to be modern, but too new to be classic. These songs are a bridge between two times, which is fitting, because the early 90s were a period of great transition. One era was ending, another was beginning, and somehow The Jayhawks were there to note that with their music.

We could call that fate, if we wanted to. An album that neatly tied up the threads of change, released on a day of personal importance to me. That sounds like more than luck, doesn't it?

It isn't, but it is one of the best bits of fortune I have stumbled across. There was nothing like "Hollywood Town Hall" when it came out, and thirty years later, there still isn't much that can compare. The Jayhawks would ebb and flow even since, but there was something magical in the air when they made this record. "Hollywood Town Hall" is one of those albums that stands the test of time by not adhering to it. What is timeless can never get old, and since I love this record more now than when I first heard it what must be twenty years ago by now, there is no danger of that changing in the future.