Tom Catmull Strips Down on ‘Twenty Dollar Know How’

By Bob Wire, 5-22-08

	Caption: Click the album cover for Tom Catmull's Website and more information on Twenty Dollar Know How

It’s appropriate that I’m writing this review in a coffee shop. Twenty Dollar Know How is a collection of solo (and near-solo) performances that presents Tom Catmull at his most stripped-down and intimate, like he’s playing in somebody’s living room as opposed to entertaining a crowd of hundreds of rowdy fans. Although the tracks have been spit-shined by crack Bitterroot knob-twiddler Jason Hicks (Joan Zen, MudSlide Charley), the album still feels like a raw snapshot of pure, undiluted Catmull.

And that’s a good thing, because in his current Americana-flavored band, the Clerics, Catmull’s proficiency on the acoustic guitar and the more subtle nuances of his lived-in baritone tend to be swallowed up by the instrumental propulsion going on around him. But here, without the overlay of a backing band, what you get is the aural version of full frontal nudity.

Twenty Dollar Know How spans a decade from 1997 to 2007, with tracks recorded everywhere from a Great Falls radio studio to the Wilma Theatre at last fall’s David Boone extravaganza. The difference in ambience from track to track gives the project a real odds ‘n sods feel (Catmull acknowledges this in the liner notes, adding “the older I get, the less I worry about such things”). 

Catmull’s a pretty nice guy in real life; too nice to ever make it very big in the music business. And that’s too bad, because there’s a dark undercurrent to his songwriting, and he’s got a supple, fine-grained voice that infuses his frequently downbeat lyrics with an authenticity, an emotional vulnerability that lifts the songs above their folksy roots. His lyrics tend to explore the inner turmoil we all endure, frequently from the perspective of a (surprise!) seasoned, working musician.

“Steady Gig” is one of three songs from last year’s Tom Catmull and the Clerics that shows up here, and while the intro lacks the guitar interplay of the full band version, the vocal is more out front and easier to understand on this don’t-bore-us-get-to-the-chorus take. The recording is from a Missoula studio session four years ago, and Catmull is in fine vocal form, bringing a confident, Gordon Lightfoot quality to his tone.

One rare treat on the disc is the opportunity to hear a couple of tracks where Catmull is joined by two of his old bandmates, Larry Hirshberg and Richie Reinholdt. Hirshberg’s unmistakable harmony and Reinholdt’s stinging, precise acoustic work on “Lovesick Blues” bring a small taste of the powerhouse Tom Catmull Band of yore. The song is good enough that I’ll forgive Catmull for swiping a Hank Williams title.

Another selection from last year’s release is “Sail On Gone,” recorded at the Wilma show. While the vocal is a bit boomy, the finger-picked guitar cuts through beautifully. The crowd is thankfully absent on the track, allowing the heartbreaking lyrics to float gently along on top of the music.

Occasionally a striking similarity to another artist’s song will appear, and the bare bones nature of this disc makes it even more apparent. I always hear Steve Earle’s “You’re Still Standing There” in the melody of “Steady Gig.” “Change Is Gold” opens with the chunky, percussive strum of Neil Young’s “Out On the Weekend,” but veers off soon enough into a bittersweet, minor-key lament: “She told me once things ain’t gonna be the same / Then she broke into a half-moon smile and she said it again.” It’s good rainy-day music that makes you want to sweeten your coffee with a shot of bourbon.

Don’t get me wrong—I would never take a musician to task for nicking (consciously or not) a phrase, a hook, or a lick from another song. Like Tom Petty once said, “every song has already been written, you just have to tune yourself in to the cosmic radio station.” Due to the finite limits of logic in Western music, there is no longer the opportunity to be utterly, never-heard-before original. Well, and still be accessible, that is.

What is original about Catmull is his lyrical imagery, his perspective, and his ability to sing convincingly about heartache and self-doubt even though in real life he’s a respected, well-liked artist with a lovely wife, two spirited young boys, and a pseudo-suburban lifestyle that would never seem to indicate the pensive, complicated muse that drives his songwriting.

Twenty Dollar Know How is a must-have for Catmull fans, but it’s also a good place to start for those new to his music. The singing is smooth, the lyrics sometimes dark, and the playing is sweet.

You know, like a good cup of coffee.