Bosco and Jorge
Bosco and Jorge
[Explain; 2001]
Rating: 6.9
I know what you're thinking: Bosco and Jorge are some new experimental ventriloquism
act. Or maybe a revivalist vaudevillian comedy duo. Or possibly a Cheech and Chong
cover band. But no. John Fahey casts a long, pitch-black shadow across the
landscape of instrumental, finger-picked, steel-stringed acoustic guitar music
from which few Guild-slingers can escape. And now that the man has passed away,
expect a barrage of hero-worshipping imitators to try and fill his shoes.
Needless to say, it ain't gonna happen. The nice thing about Chicago's Bosco
and Jorge is that they seem to recognize this. They make no attempts to disguise
their love for Fahey-- instead wearing it proudly like a badge-- and as ardent
fans, they end up making something that rises slightly above a simple homage.
Or in Oedipal terms: they try to kill the father by beating him at his own game.
It makes sense that Bosco and Jorge (actually Bill Lowman and Brad Gallagher) met
as kids at a concert of Fahey protegé Leo Kottke. But far from third-rate Fahey,
Bosco and Jorge is actually better than anything Kottke's put out in a
long time. It's even better than a lot of Fahey albums I've heard. There are
other touchstones here, of course: Bert Jansch, Nick Drake, and Fahey influences
like Skip James, Mississippi John Hurt, and Bill Monroe. And if you wear your
hipster shades, you'll be able to discern the ghosts of these predecessors within
the overwhelming Fahey glare reflecting off this album.
For Bosco and Jorge, Fahey's best music was made from the mid-60s to the early
70s. They largely ignore his latter-day excursions into noise, and steer clear
of his raga and Middle Eastern motifs, instead focusing on his Appalachian work.
"Sorta Play That Sorta Stuff," the lead-off track, sees the duo at their most
imitative. Other instruments are added elsewhere, but here, they use only two
guitars which begin on a mournful note before picking up speed and interlocking.
Fahey's Requia springs immediately to mind. "Two Steps Behind in the 1st
Place" follows, opening with a very somber and hushed guitar pattern before
flutes soar in and flirt atop. If there's such a thing as autumnal samba, this
is it.
"Mikey's Pole" is the standout track. Bowed bass and cello provide the foundation
for probably the most evocative guitar riff to be found here. Subtle but
powerful, it uses harmonic taps in a way that isn't just mere claptrap-- a true
rarity. Banjo takes the lead role for the first movement of the 11-minute
"Lil' Smokie." A howling voice reminiscent of Tim Buckley (circa Lorca)
soon takes over before returning to a halting and playful solo guitar interlude
that builds to a frantic pace that would be sure to send Guitar World's
readership to the Internet in search of tablature if they ever caught wind of it.
The Fahey-isms return in full force with "Niagara," as the two-guitar attack of
the first track is resumed. But far from funereal, this piece is upbeat and
vibrant. "17 Year Cicada" rounds out the album and comes closest to mapping out
fresh musical territory, as Lowman and Gallagher branch out and add piano, drums,
and an ever-so-slight touch of electric guitar that builds to a minor crescendo
like a less bombastic Godspeed.
-Jason Nickey, October 31st, 2001