Like the tough and timeless tales of Raymond Chandler, who sent his hard-boiled detective hero Philip Marlowe through the dark underbelly of the American dream, the music of Steve Ripley unflinchingly cuts through the emotional and spiritual wilderness of the 21st Century. And now, with his first-ever solo effort, Ripley, the gifted artist who continues to lead and produce the multi-platinum-selling act The Tractors, shows he has something else in common with Chandler’s Marlowe: a fierce and unshakable belief that no matter how bad or bleak life gets, there’s always the sweet hope of redemption.
Listen to his take, for instance, on the classic Carter Family song “No Depression.” Joined by The Whites, Ripley reconfigures the Depression-era wish for Eternal escape into an anthem for our time, all the while staying true to the sad but shining spirit of the original. His own “Crossing Over,” which closes the disc and finds him singing with the Jordanaires, picks up the same message and plunges it across the goal line. And in the brilliant “Too Many Borderlines” Ripley creates an impassioned look at crossed lines and ruined lives, weaving in a subtle but powerful message for all who take spirituality seriously.
At the same time, there’s an almost primal rootsiness spread throughout Ripley, with boogie and shuffle and rock ‘n’ roll rhythms working under inspiredly different instrumentation and vocals. Maybe “Mr. Jingle Jangle” will make think of the Beatles, or “Sweetheart Town” of the Eagles. But only for a moment. With precision and feeling, Ripley uses instrumental hooks and harmonic structures that sound familiar enough to strike a spark inside you, and then fans that spark into a flame with unique applications of rhythm, honesty, and intelligence.
For example, there's the CD's lead track and first single, “Gone Away.” In it, a litany of nostalgic touchstones becomes an elegy for a past life, echoing the longing of anyone who’s ever awakened at 3 a.m. wondering where life and youth went. Like many songs on the record, “Gone Away” sneaks up on you, accessible from the first few bars but not nearly as simple as it sounds. Like his namesake album, Steve Ripley has always defied categorization. Often, like his mentors J.J. Cale and Leon Russell, he’s considered one of the leading lights of the Tulsa Sound, that groove-based, spare-notes musical style that’s influenced everyone from Eric Clapton to Chet Baker. As the creator of the Red Dirt Records label back in the mid-‘70s, Ripley was also an inadvertent godfather to Red Dirt Music, whose rural but hip singer-songwriter approach has given birth to such contemporary acts as Jimmy LaFave, The Red Dirt Rangers, Cross Canadian Ragweed, and The Great Divide. Now, once again, Steve Ripley stands at the forefront of a new musical movement, one that the old labels like alt-country, Americana, and country-rock don’t quite cover. It’s complex music that sounds simple. It’s exciting music that flows deep into your soul. It’s music for people who both think and feel.
It’s Ripley music.
Listen to his take, for instance, on the classic Carter Family song “No Depression.” Joined by The Whites, Ripley reconfigures the Depression-era wish for Eternal escape into an anthem for our time, all the while staying true to the sad but shining spirit of the original. His own “Crossing Over,” which closes the disc and finds him singing with the Jordanaires, picks up the same message and plunges it across the goal line. And in the brilliant “Too Many Borderlines” Ripley creates an impassioned look at crossed lines and ruined lives, weaving in a subtle but powerful message for all who take spirituality seriously.
At the same time, there’s an almost primal rootsiness spread throughout Ripley, with boogie and shuffle and rock ‘n’ roll rhythms working under inspiredly different instrumentation and vocals. Maybe “Mr. Jingle Jangle” will make think of the Beatles, or “Sweetheart Town” of the Eagles. But only for a moment. With precision and feeling, Ripley uses instrumental hooks and harmonic structures that sound familiar enough to strike a spark inside you, and then fans that spark into a flame with unique applications of rhythm, honesty, and intelligence.
For example, there's the CD's lead track and first single, “Gone Away.” In it, a litany of nostalgic touchstones becomes an elegy for a past life, echoing the longing of anyone who’s ever awakened at 3 a.m. wondering where life and youth went. Like many songs on the record, “Gone Away” sneaks up on you, accessible from the first few bars but not nearly as simple as it sounds. Like his namesake album, Steve Ripley has always defied categorization. Often, like his mentors J.J. Cale and Leon Russell, he’s considered one of the leading lights of the Tulsa Sound, that groove-based, spare-notes musical style that’s influenced everyone from Eric Clapton to Chet Baker. As the creator of the Red Dirt Records label back in the mid-‘70s, Ripley was also an inadvertent godfather to Red Dirt Music, whose rural but hip singer-songwriter approach has given birth to such contemporary acts as Jimmy LaFave, The Red Dirt Rangers, Cross Canadian Ragweed, and The Great Divide. Now, once again, Steve Ripley stands at the forefront of a new musical movement, one that the old labels like alt-country, Americana, and country-rock don’t quite cover. It’s complex music that sounds simple. It’s exciting music that flows deep into your soul. It’s music for people who both think and feel.
It’s Ripley music.
Ripley
Goldmine Magazine
You already know Steve Ripley as the rocking core of The Tractors. Now experience one of America’s finest performers on his first solo outing. From his excellent rendition of The Carter Family’s “No Depression” to his impassioned “Too Many Borderlines” and the Beatles-esque “Mr. Jingle Jangle,” Ripley turns in one outstanding performances after another.
Ghosts of The Eagles, The Byrds, Gram Parson, and The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band all hover overhead, but while Ripley’s originality always shines through, as in the leadoff track, “Gone Away,” which will be instantly recognizable to any of us who sometimes wonder just where all the years went.
Ripley once again champions a whole new musical genre. One can’t really fit it neatly into the alt-country bin. Neither can it be clearly written up as Americana. It’s just great new music from a man whose style influenced hip young acts such as Cross Canadian Ragweed and The Great Divide. It’s country-rock squared or rockabilly to the fourth power. Heck, I always hated labels anyway. Let’s just call it darn good music. Yeah, that’ll do. Good music and a great album from Ripley-believe it or not.
-Michael Buffalo Smith
Cleveland Country Music
Lee Barrish
While taking a little break from his duties as the driving force of The Tractors, Steve Ripley has recorded a pretty neat little album. The Tractors have never been the most country of the country crowd, but on his own, Ripley, believe it or not, has added maybe a couple more degrees of separation. Call it country rock, Americana or whatever you want, but just listen to it. Consider it required listening.
The content of the disc is sometimes poetic. It also holds story songs that captivate. Every now and then there is magic, like Bob Dylan’s muse had visited Ripley. It sounds hoaky to say but listen to "Sweetheart Town" and you’ll change your tune.
A great deal of the lyrics are in shadows if not dark, and all contain struggle or conflict. In "Too Many Borderlines" the battle is with addictions and life choices. The picture painted here isn’t pretty, but it is realistic. Other demons dealt with among 10 tracks include change and mortality ("Gone Away"), strained relationships ("Mr. Jingle Jangle") and longing for a heavenly escape ("Crossing Over").
Though Ripley is a gifted writer it’s likely his offering won’t prove to be a radio powerhouse. This provokes thought. Radio, these days is geared toward the hard of thinking.
Ripley plows new ground
2003-02-07
By Gene Triplett
The Oklahoman
I can picture Steve Ripley as a little kid, kicking around in the red dirt of his Uncle Elmer's farm around Glencoe, circa 1955 -- when the first news of Elvis reached him.
Up to then, he'd been weaned on his folks' 78 rpm Hank Williams and Bob Wills records. Then his oil field-working cousins came home from Texas with stories of "a guy named Elvis tearing it up down there" in small-town concerts.
"'You can get a date with anybody if you tell them you're going to see this guy named Elvis Presley,'" Ripley quotes his cousins. "And that's the first time we'd ever heard of him ... and then it exploded."
Ripley's never been the same. Rock and country collided in his soul, and his young heart picked up the beat. Years later, that inspirational mix became fuel for the Tractors, who plowed their way to platinum status in 1994 with their self-titled debut on Arista Records. Their eclectic mix of toe- tapping boogie and rootsy country-rock made "overnight" superstars out of these Tulsa-based boys, and they've been chugging along in high gear since.
Of course, a lot of other things happened to Ripley between Uncle Elmer's farm and Nashville notoriety, such as working with the likes of fellow Okies Leon Russell and J.J. Cale, touring and recording with Bob Dylan and designing a line of guitars for such clients as Eddie Van Halen, Ry Cooder, Steve Lukather, Dweezil Zappa and Eric Clapton.
It's been a crowded and lively dance card, and it's only now, in his early 50s, that Ripley is finally stepping out alone on his solo album debut, simply titled "Ripley."
All the boyhood influences shine through -- albeit softly -- on "Gone Away," a bittersweetly nostalgic ode to a time gone by; the gloriously gospel-tinged, Hammond organ-sheened "Crossing Over," with the supernal-sounding Jordanaires singing behind him; the Beatle-esque bounce of "Mr. Jingle Jangle"; the Eagles-like L.A. cowboy drift of "Sweetheart Town"; and his rustically righteous reworking of the Carter Family classic, "No Depression (In Heaven)."
Recorded at Tulsa's fabled Church Studio -- once owned by Russell and now owned by Ripley -- the album is "lower and slower" than the typical Tractors' tunes. "What I do is the J.J. Cale/Leon Russell school of music," he says, talking by telephone from his studio. "That's where I learned to record. ... On the other hand, maybe the Ripley record is more J.J. Cale and the Tractors is more Leon Russell.
"The Tractors is certainly a boogie woogie deal -- toe- tapping, up-tempo, supposed to make you feel good even if it's about bills you can't pay. The Ripley record is certainly a personal kind of thing, and a lot of times during the process, I referred to it as the 'J.J. Dylan' record. And I think to some degree that's true."
Certainly, a midtempo, lazy kind of Cale-like shuffle threads through much of the album, and Ripley's low, rough-edged vocals are a little reminiscent of Bob Dylan -- without the nasal twang. But Ripley rocks in his own distinctive way, and one wonders what took him so long to go solo.
"I don't have an easy answer for that," he says. "I certainly recorded many things over my life, from my early days in Stillwater and my first studio back there, right out of college. And then I worked for Leon for a few years, and there was a record in the works for his (Shelter) label at that time. Then the label folded, and one thing leads to another."
Things led to living in Nashville and Los Angeles, with Ripley producing for Freddy Fender, Roy Clark, Gatemouth Brown and Western swing king Johnnie Lee Wills (son of Bob). But the guitarist/studio wizard and his wife, Charlene, finally decided to head back to Tulsa, so their children could grow up near the rest of the family. It just so happened the Church Studio, no longer owned by his old mentor Russell, was up for sale.
Should we call this one Ripley's believe it or not?
He calls it "a twist of fate, coincidental or whatever. Hand of God?"
Then came the Tractors, a musical concept born out of his work with the young Wills and his love of the old Wills' music. Ripley said a solo project hadn't even occurred to him in quite a while. Then he was approached by filmmaker/musician Rod Slane about writing a song for an independently produced, made-in- Oklahoma movie on cockfighting and the political deal- making surrounding the sport. It was shortly after Sept. 11, 2001, and Ripley recalls being in a particularly "apocalyptic" mood when he sat down to pen "The Round and Round." The tune is a tense, dark, quick- tempo rocker that conveys the nastier side of corruption depicted in the film.
The producers liked the song so much that they even changed the name of the movie to "The Round and Round" (which can be seen in a special screening at 7:30 p.m. Saturday in Kerr Auditorium at the Sam Noble Oklahoma Museum of Natural History in Norman).
Meanwhile, Ripley's creative "faucet," as he calls it, had been turned on.
"I'm a pretty big believer that there needs to be a reason for art. .... That's what led to it," he says of the album. "There was a reason to do it. And then it took on a life of its own. It needed a mover to start."
But it had to be something special, something that really reached back to his musical beginnings. So, he strung up his 1954 Martin D-28 acoustic guitar, slapped a reel of tape on his vintage Studer 24-track recorder, sat down in front of a newly refurbished Neumann U48 microphone, plugged into a restored Beatles-era Telefunken V76 tube microphone pre-amp, started strumming in the key of E, and the words to "Gone Away" started spilling out.
What he achieved were 10 heartfelt tracks with a "sonic integrity" and warmth harking back to the analog days, way before computerized, digital technology invaded and sterilized the sound studio.
"Every time they make new and improved versions, it's always worse than the thing it replaced," Ripley says. "Maybe not always, but in terms of guitars and microphones and pre- amps and recording gear ... it was a step back. I got that element back." Don't get him wrong. This farm boy from Glencoe doesn't live in the past. "I like getting in my Ford pickup, and it's new, and the air conditioning works and all that stuff," he says.
Still, in some ways, those days on Uncle Elmer's farm were the best, and if it hadn't been for his family's love of music -- country and early rock in particular -- Ripley might be riding a tractor rather than playing in a band named after one.
"There was this passion that the Ripleys had," he recalls, "and I don't think it was ever explained, but just a passion for the new Chuck Berry tune, which seems odd to me. But my dad loved Chuck Berry. And I'm this little kid ridin' in the car, and he'd go, 'Wow, here's this new Chuck Berry.' 'No Particular Place to Go,' or whatever. And we'd turn it up and listen."
One thing seems sure. The Ripley passion hasn't gone away.
Goldmine Magazine
You already know Steve Ripley as the rocking core of The Tractors. Now experience one of America’s finest performers on his first solo outing. From his excellent rendition of The Carter Family’s “No Depression” to his impassioned “Too Many Borderlines” and the Beatles-esque “Mr. Jingle Jangle,” Ripley turns in one outstanding performances after another.
Ghosts of The Eagles, The Byrds, Gram Parson, and The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band all hover overhead, but while Ripley’s originality always shines through, as in the leadoff track, “Gone Away,” which will be instantly recognizable to any of us who sometimes wonder just where all the years went.
Ripley once again champions a whole new musical genre. One can’t really fit it neatly into the alt-country bin. Neither can it be clearly written up as Americana. It’s just great new music from a man whose style influenced hip young acts such as Cross Canadian Ragweed and The Great Divide. It’s country-rock squared or rockabilly to the fourth power. Heck, I always hated labels anyway. Let’s just call it darn good music. Yeah, that’ll do. Good music and a great album from Ripley-believe it or not.
-Michael Buffalo Smith
Cleveland Country Music
Lee Barrish
While taking a little break from his duties as the driving force of The Tractors, Steve Ripley has recorded a pretty neat little album. The Tractors have never been the most country of the country crowd, but on his own, Ripley, believe it or not, has added maybe a couple more degrees of separation. Call it country rock, Americana or whatever you want, but just listen to it. Consider it required listening.
The content of the disc is sometimes poetic. It also holds story songs that captivate. Every now and then there is magic, like Bob Dylan’s muse had visited Ripley. It sounds hoaky to say but listen to "Sweetheart Town" and you’ll change your tune.
A great deal of the lyrics are in shadows if not dark, and all contain struggle or conflict. In "Too Many Borderlines" the battle is with addictions and life choices. The picture painted here isn’t pretty, but it is realistic. Other demons dealt with among 10 tracks include change and mortality ("Gone Away"), strained relationships ("Mr. Jingle Jangle") and longing for a heavenly escape ("Crossing Over").
Though Ripley is a gifted writer it’s likely his offering won’t prove to be a radio powerhouse. This provokes thought. Radio, these days is geared toward the hard of thinking.
Ripley plows new ground
2003-02-07
By Gene Triplett
The Oklahoman
I can picture Steve Ripley as a little kid, kicking around in the red dirt of his Uncle Elmer's farm around Glencoe, circa 1955 -- when the first news of Elvis reached him.
Up to then, he'd been weaned on his folks' 78 rpm Hank Williams and Bob Wills records. Then his oil field-working cousins came home from Texas with stories of "a guy named Elvis tearing it up down there" in small-town concerts.
"'You can get a date with anybody if you tell them you're going to see this guy named Elvis Presley,'" Ripley quotes his cousins. "And that's the first time we'd ever heard of him ... and then it exploded."
Ripley's never been the same. Rock and country collided in his soul, and his young heart picked up the beat. Years later, that inspirational mix became fuel for the Tractors, who plowed their way to platinum status in 1994 with their self-titled debut on Arista Records. Their eclectic mix of toe- tapping boogie and rootsy country-rock made "overnight" superstars out of these Tulsa-based boys, and they've been chugging along in high gear since.
Of course, a lot of other things happened to Ripley between Uncle Elmer's farm and Nashville notoriety, such as working with the likes of fellow Okies Leon Russell and J.J. Cale, touring and recording with Bob Dylan and designing a line of guitars for such clients as Eddie Van Halen, Ry Cooder, Steve Lukather, Dweezil Zappa and Eric Clapton.
It's been a crowded and lively dance card, and it's only now, in his early 50s, that Ripley is finally stepping out alone on his solo album debut, simply titled "Ripley."
All the boyhood influences shine through -- albeit softly -- on "Gone Away," a bittersweetly nostalgic ode to a time gone by; the gloriously gospel-tinged, Hammond organ-sheened "Crossing Over," with the supernal-sounding Jordanaires singing behind him; the Beatle-esque bounce of "Mr. Jingle Jangle"; the Eagles-like L.A. cowboy drift of "Sweetheart Town"; and his rustically righteous reworking of the Carter Family classic, "No Depression (In Heaven)."
Recorded at Tulsa's fabled Church Studio -- once owned by Russell and now owned by Ripley -- the album is "lower and slower" than the typical Tractors' tunes. "What I do is the J.J. Cale/Leon Russell school of music," he says, talking by telephone from his studio. "That's where I learned to record. ... On the other hand, maybe the Ripley record is more J.J. Cale and the Tractors is more Leon Russell.
"The Tractors is certainly a boogie woogie deal -- toe- tapping, up-tempo, supposed to make you feel good even if it's about bills you can't pay. The Ripley record is certainly a personal kind of thing, and a lot of times during the process, I referred to it as the 'J.J. Dylan' record. And I think to some degree that's true."
Certainly, a midtempo, lazy kind of Cale-like shuffle threads through much of the album, and Ripley's low, rough-edged vocals are a little reminiscent of Bob Dylan -- without the nasal twang. But Ripley rocks in his own distinctive way, and one wonders what took him so long to go solo.
"I don't have an easy answer for that," he says. "I certainly recorded many things over my life, from my early days in Stillwater and my first studio back there, right out of college. And then I worked for Leon for a few years, and there was a record in the works for his (Shelter) label at that time. Then the label folded, and one thing leads to another."
Things led to living in Nashville and Los Angeles, with Ripley producing for Freddy Fender, Roy Clark, Gatemouth Brown and Western swing king Johnnie Lee Wills (son of Bob). But the guitarist/studio wizard and his wife, Charlene, finally decided to head back to Tulsa, so their children could grow up near the rest of the family. It just so happened the Church Studio, no longer owned by his old mentor Russell, was up for sale.
Should we call this one Ripley's believe it or not?
He calls it "a twist of fate, coincidental or whatever. Hand of God?"
Then came the Tractors, a musical concept born out of his work with the young Wills and his love of the old Wills' music. Ripley said a solo project hadn't even occurred to him in quite a while. Then he was approached by filmmaker/musician Rod Slane about writing a song for an independently produced, made-in- Oklahoma movie on cockfighting and the political deal- making surrounding the sport. It was shortly after Sept. 11, 2001, and Ripley recalls being in a particularly "apocalyptic" mood when he sat down to pen "The Round and Round." The tune is a tense, dark, quick- tempo rocker that conveys the nastier side of corruption depicted in the film.
The producers liked the song so much that they even changed the name of the movie to "The Round and Round" (which can be seen in a special screening at 7:30 p.m. Saturday in Kerr Auditorium at the Sam Noble Oklahoma Museum of Natural History in Norman).
Meanwhile, Ripley's creative "faucet," as he calls it, had been turned on.
"I'm a pretty big believer that there needs to be a reason for art. .... That's what led to it," he says of the album. "There was a reason to do it. And then it took on a life of its own. It needed a mover to start."
But it had to be something special, something that really reached back to his musical beginnings. So, he strung up his 1954 Martin D-28 acoustic guitar, slapped a reel of tape on his vintage Studer 24-track recorder, sat down in front of a newly refurbished Neumann U48 microphone, plugged into a restored Beatles-era Telefunken V76 tube microphone pre-amp, started strumming in the key of E, and the words to "Gone Away" started spilling out.
What he achieved were 10 heartfelt tracks with a "sonic integrity" and warmth harking back to the analog days, way before computerized, digital technology invaded and sterilized the sound studio.
"Every time they make new and improved versions, it's always worse than the thing it replaced," Ripley says. "Maybe not always, but in terms of guitars and microphones and pre- amps and recording gear ... it was a step back. I got that element back." Don't get him wrong. This farm boy from Glencoe doesn't live in the past. "I like getting in my Ford pickup, and it's new, and the air conditioning works and all that stuff," he says.
Still, in some ways, those days on Uncle Elmer's farm were the best, and if it hadn't been for his family's love of music -- country and early rock in particular -- Ripley might be riding a tractor rather than playing in a band named after one.
"There was this passion that the Ripleys had," he recalls, "and I don't think it was ever explained, but just a passion for the new Chuck Berry tune, which seems odd to me. But my dad loved Chuck Berry. And I'm this little kid ridin' in the car, and he'd go, 'Wow, here's this new Chuck Berry.' 'No Particular Place to Go,' or whatever. And we'd turn it up and listen."
One thing seems sure. The Ripley passion hasn't gone away.