5 out of 5

Label: 429 Records

Produced by: Drew Vandenberg (Recorded by)

Cracker had always occupied the slightly more angsty, rocksy, rootsy aspects of David Lowery’s musical passions, with Camper Van Beethoven the smirking collegiate hipster group.  Both projects would evolve and mature, but that slight divide still existed.  It’s interesting, then, to hold 2013/2014 CVB and Cracker releases side by side, and CVB would drop La Costa Perdida and El Camino Real – North and South California themed, respectively – and then the two disc Berkeley To Bakersfield, with one disc each logically attributed to a mindset befitting one of those locations.  The first disc – Berkeley – is LA, politics, and girls, and features the original Cracker lineup playing together for the first time in 20 years.  It’s also one of the best albums the group has ever recorded, from the moving ‘Torches and Pitchforks’ opener to the toe-tapping flirtation of El Commandante and the aggression of ‘You Got Yourself Into This.’  It’s honest, it’s a masterful slice of California folk and rock, and, keeping the CVB separation intact, it’s not doom and gloom but the slacker humor is certainly downplayed; the ties to the location are much more succinct than on ‘La Costa’ or ‘El Camino,’ and you get a feel for Berkeley (or Lowery’s view of it) even if, like me, you’ve never stepped foot there.  The second disc – Bakersfield – is a more ‘traditional’ Cracker sound (post Golden Age), with the country played up and the good ol’ times celebrated and the slide guitar moseying around the riffs.  On its own, this would be a good album of standards, but propped up next to Berkeley it feels more relevant.  As Johnny Hickman opens with the celebratory ‘California Country Boy’ and reminds us that there ain’t no palm trees where he’s from, the history and experience of the band becomes palpable and exciting, kicking through the sweet ‘Almond Grove’ and rambling ‘King Of Bakersfield,’ with the need to break free of the countryside expressed further in, on tracks like ‘Get On Down The Road.’  Both discs end with tracks that seem to look back on the past wistfully and/or with regret, something that crops up frequently in Cracker, but it’s a tribute to the two disc set that each album leads you down very different paths to those emotions.  The Berkeley disc on its own is an amazing listen; but to concoct a two-disc themed album that works from start to finish and actually services its themes?  That’s hard work.  And Cracker makes it seem like just another day on the job.