O Cracker, Where Art Thou?

The idea of taking rock or pop songs and spinning them into bluegrass rave-ups isn't a new one. Traditionalists such as Del McCoury have been doing it for years, and more recently jokesters Hayseed Dixie have turned it into a quickly predictable career, covering AC/DC , Kiss, and Aerosmith. Despite the title, O Cracker, Where Art Thou? is not simply a well-worn gag. Dave Lowery and Johnny Hickman have teamed with the Colorado jam band Leftover Salmon to re-imagine 10 Cracker songs, and the results are surprisingly effective. Clearly, the guys in Leftover Salmon are great musicians, and any temptation toward improvisational excess is held in check by a respect for the songs, which span Cracker's career. Wisely, this includes a four-song cluster from the band's best album, Kerosene Hat, including a sexy "Sweet Potato," which effortlessly melds bluegrass pickin' with New Orleans rhythm, and a version of "Low" haunted by creepy banjo, pedal steel-guitar, and a Hammond organ solo. Lowery's former band, Camper Van Beethoven, experimented with this sort of musical hybrid, too, with greater abandon but less instrumental expertise. There's no way that CVB could have pulled off the double-time banjo and mandolin fretwork required in a satisfyingly traditional run-through of "Teen Angst,"" or even made it through a simple country lament like "Mr. Wrong" without smirking a little too broadly. Fans of Camper Van will probably miss that band's punky attitude--which only surfaces once, on the smashed country waltz of "Eurotrash Girl"--but these 10 songs are good enough to be twisted into new shapes without betraying the old ones. --Keith Moerer
Customer Review: Bluegrass? H E double hockey sticks yeah!
I'm not a fan of Bluegrass, but I am a fan of Cracker, and this album is nothing short of amazing. It's my favorite Cracker album. All I have to say to Cracker is... Do it again!
Customer Review: Categorizing the impact
Some people are just lucky. If you're a fan of both Leftover Salmon AND Cracker (like me), you can count yourself among the lucky ones. In "O Cracker, Where Art Thou?" you are getting an amazing melding of each band's strengths. The glories of Cracker lyrics combined with the instrumental musicality of Leftover Salmon will astound you. Although "Get Off This" provides a somewhat dismal context (Cracker at a county fair... on quaaludes), by the time "Sweet Potato" comes around the LoS stringers are in full sound. "Mr Wrong" exploits a twangy-country sound with excellent, syncopated keyboards courtesy of Bill McKay. "Teen Agnst" is also awesome with its newly-upbeat rhythms (think bango guy gone wild!). But how will the respective fans of Leftover Salmon or Cracker like this CD? I think back to the old Reese's commercials: "Your chocolate is in my peanut butter!" "No, your peanut butter is in my chocolate!" Will fans of each taste enjoy finding them together? Here's what I think... Fans who love Cracker especially for their lyrics will enjoy hearing the songs in a new context. But fans who love Cracker for their harddriving rock would best avoid this CD. It won't be your bag. Similarly, Leftover Salmon fans who enjoy the purity and experimentation of traditional bluegrass could avoid this CD. But syncretists who enjoy the smashing success of melding musical styles will be well served. Truly, like Reese's peanut butter cups, we've got "two great tastes that taste great together." I love it, and if you're open to Cracker music in this bluegrass context, you're in for quite a sweet treat!

Base camp sits at 12,000 feet stark, windy, unshaded from the blazing August sun, but an otherwise great place to stop for a snack. Voices echo across cold granite as the breeze wraps around dozens of tents, backpacks, cooking stoves, and bear-proof food canisters. An unopened package of banana chips on my lap is immediately snatched up by a marmot, unhindered by my presence and unfazed by my pursuit.

Here, the animals, the people, and the barren granite form a bustling community in the Sierra Nevada wilderness. The trail to Mount Whitney sees thousands of people each year, all in pursuit of the highest peak in the United States (excluding Alaska). The people crowd the trail, the animals exploit the people, and Inyo National Forest rakes in thousands of tourism dollars. They say if you want solitude, go to Antarctica. Mount Whitney is Disneyland for hikers.

Thats not saying Whitney should be avoided. Like Disneyland, theres a good reason crowds all congregate at one California landmark. Few other places in the world offer a well-tracked trail to 14,496 feet, where anyone with a pair of sturdy boots can trek to the top of a country, and a big one at that. Technical skills are optional on this trail, though patience and a degree of elevation tolerance is vital.

The trail begins at 8,368 feet in the Whitney Portal campground, at the end of a paved road from Lone Pine. The trailhead is a maze of parking lots, which, in the summer months, are nearly always filled to capacity.

This is the part of the forest where black bears rule; they bash in the windows of parked cars and steal whatever they find. So frequent are the bear burglaries that people are aggressively ticketed for leaving tempting packages in plain view.

I feel relieved when I walk into the wilderness and away from bear country. From the trailhead its over 11 miles and 6,000 vertical feet to the flat-topped summit, a gradual trail, but not for wimps. Whitebark pine forests slowly give way to exposed granite over the first 7 miles, then base camp marks a strenuous and rocky climb to Sierra Crest.

I drafted my dad and his friend Tom, two avid hikers in their late 40s, up the steep section of trail affectionately called 100 switchbacks. I lose count after 75. Most hikers complete this hike as two to three-day backpacking trip, but Dad, Tom and I are going to do it in a day.

Sierra Crest is marked at 13,600 feet, already higher than I have ever hiked. The elevation puts a clamp on my lungs, and I feel a vague sense of sleepiness creeping into my head, even though my heart is pumping. The trail rolls along the ridge behind sheer pinnacles. You could stumble and fall 2,000 feet, but the immaculate trail helps prevent that. Thousands of footsteps per year have worn a nice groove in the jagged mountain

At this point Im laboring up the trail, but it doesnt matter. Im a hiker that climbs to look, not conquer. The green and gold of Sequoia stretches across the horizon. Deep blue lakes sparkle beneath a cloudless sky. From here you can almost see the depths of Death Valley - the lowest point in the United States and only 90 miles from this point.

Dad and Tom are a ways ahead by the time I ascend the final slope - a gradual ramp that eventually levels off. This is the peak - flat, spacious, almost custom-designed for large capacities. A crowd of about a dozen people are scattered over the rocks. We plop next to a geographical marker - Latitude: 36 35 x; Longitude: 118 17 x, it says - and fix some lunch. We have great view of Lone Pine - 13 miles east, of Yosemite national park, of the expansive Nevada desert, of the Sierra Nevadas stretching over the horizon.

A strong wind whips past my head and muffles the incessant chatter. If I turn my head toward the sheer drop to the east I almost feel alone. Almost. They say if you want solitude, go elsewhere. If you want to see the spectacular top of Americas biggest and brightest, go to Whitney.

Directions: From Los Angeles take highway 14 to U.S. highway 395 north to Lone Pine, about 200 miles. Turn west onto Whitney Portal Rd. 13 miles to the trail head. Permits are required for this hike and are somewhat difficult to obtain. Call Inyo National Forest, Mt. Whitney District, (760) 876-6200, for more information.

About The Author

Jill Homer is a graphic artist and freelance travel writer currently residing in Tooele, Utah. She specializes in outdoor adventure writing. For more information please visit http://www.biketoshine.com or contact jill@biketoshine.com.