Empire Builders

Orlando Sentinel (four stars out of five)
September 10 2004
The garishly attired tourists on the cover of Jason Ringenberg's new solo album look like the stereotypical ugly Americans.

That's a perception that Ringenberg, best known as the frontman of the 1980s cowpunk outfit Jason & The Scorchers, encountered plenty on the 2003 European trek that inspired Empire Builders.

The album is his screaming denial of that caricature, but it's not an overtly political album. Instead, Ringenberg makes his point by exporting his tasty hybrid of clamorous rock and twangy country. Songs such as "Rebel Flag in Germany" and "Tuskegee Pride" rely on stories or character studies rather than fist-shaking.

The former was inspired by a train ride in Germany, where Ringenberg endured embarrassment and American guilt over the sight of a Confederate flag atop a rural barn:"I slink down in my seat, and I search for a disguise," he drawls. "I say, 'I am Canadian' with averted eyes. Am I being paranoid? Do they think it's me? Do they think I hung that flag in Central Germany?"

With its stately arrangement, "Tuskegee Pride" is a swaggering folk song about the contradictions observed by a black fighter pilot in World War II:"In the fall of '39, Hitler made a mess. But frankly, I didn't see the difference, I guess, from what he was doing and what was done to us. Sometimes, I had to wonder in what God they trust."

Such statements aren't the only theme on Empire Builders, which expands its appeal by stepping outside topical realms. "She Hung the Moon (Until It Died)" with its electric guitar sweetened by keening pedal steel, perfectly balances prettiness and rough edges.

Elsewhere, Ringenberg dives deeper into pure country and vintage rock. The former is credibly explored in "Rainbow Stew," a chipper, loosely delivered cover of Merle Haggard's utopian anthem.

Rumbling tremolo guitars apply a Ventures-worthy sheen to "Link Wray," an ode to the 1950s icon whose power chords inspired Pete Townshend and other 1960s guitar slingers. That song yields to "Chief Joseph's Last Dream," a somber acoustic folk song colored by strings and deep booming percussion. "New Fashioned Imperialist" twists the music into another shape with the odd presence of tubas, trumpets and accordions.

Empire Builders is better when it doesn't stray into such bizarre territory, sticking to the traditional country of "Half the Man" or less gimmicky folk of "Eddie Rode the Orphan Train." Yet even when it reaches too far, the album is still a pleasing American creation.