The Lost Gonzo Band were certifiable Texas outlaw legends, a loose limbed country/rock backing band most closely associated with Jerry Jeff Walker, as well as other iconic indie-twang avatars such as Rusty Weir and Michael Martin Murphey. The group included lead singer and lyricist Gary P. Nunn on lead guitar and vocals, Donny Dolan (drums), Kelly Dunn (piano and organ), John Inmon (bass), Bob Livingston (vocals and guitar) and Thomas Ramirez on saxophone. The core lineup of remained pretty consistent over the rest of their 'Seventies, with a few tweaks here and there. Nunn was certainly a central figure, both to the band and to the Austin alt-country scene it helped define -- in the late 'Sixties he moved out of the Texas garage rock scene into creative partnerships with Rusty Wier and other pioneering twangsters, eventually forming the Lost Gonzo Band as a free-floating backup band which later took off in its own right. Here's a quick look at their recorded work...
The Lost Gonzo Band "The Lost Gonzo Band" (MCA Records, 1975) (LP)
(Produced by Michael Brovsky)
The debut disc from this stalwart backing band might not be quite what you'd expect from a group most closely associated with Jerry Jeff Walker... Indeed, this album could be a real conundrum for twangfans: the uber-eclectic mix of over-the-top, anthemic pop, brash guitar rock, and disco-y jam-band soul may seem a bit, um, challenging, if not outright torturous. "Defying expectations" is about the most charitable phrase I could come up with. It's easy to recognize the depth of musical talent, but though I am technically a fan of the band -- and of lead singer Gary P. Nunn in particular -- the truth is these tracks don't hold up well, and probably sounded pretty iffy back when the album first came out. The material seems to have been intensely personal to the band, but the treble-heavy production and overwrought arrangements, as well as Nunn's thin, fey, semi-falsetto vocals make this record nearly impenetrable modern ears. You can hear echoes of other roots music avatars such as Delbert McClinton or Doug Sahm in some of the white soul/jam-band passages, but the whole album just doesn't hold together. I'm not out to grind an axe or "get" anyone, but I honestly couldn't recommend this record, even though it has some interesting songs, or at least the bones of some interesting songs. The Gonzos only made a small number of country-rock cult hits, and none of them are on here. There is one track, the banjo-led "Take Advantage Of Your Chances," that's explicitly a country-rock twangtune, but it doesn't redeem the album as a whole. Alas.
The Lost Gonzo Band "Thrills" (MCA Records, 1976) (LP)
(Produced by Michael Brovsky, Chuck Childs & Gene Eichelberger)
Basically the same core band, with some additional help from some rootsy Nashville studio pros, notably Johnny Gimble (on fiddle and mandolin), Weldon Myrick (pedal steel) and Bobby Thompson (banjo and guitar), as well as Texas locals Sanchez Harley & The Sanchez Horns and the vocal duo of Carol Anderson and Mary Beth Anderson, who went by the name Ladysmith. Like all the Lost Gonzo albums, this one's a bit hit-or-miss, though there are two earth-staggering outlaw classics, "Dead Armadillo" and "The Last Thing I Needed," KFAT classics which remain in my personal country canon. Definitely worth a spin.
The Lost Gonzo Band "Signs Of Life" (Capitol Records, 1978) (LP)
(Produced by Michael Brovsky & John Ingle)
This was the band's ironically-titled major-label swan song, best known for the titanic novelty number, "London Home Sick Blues," with its classic chorus: "I wanna go home with the armadilla/with country music from Amarilla to Abeline/the friendliest people and the purtiest women you ever seen..." The album's also packed with other, quieter gems, many of which may seem a little undercooked or overbaked, though a few tracks have their charms. I remember hearing the tripping anthem, "Santa Cruz (After The Nick Of Time)" on KFAT radio, back in the day, and am still surprised by the nostalgic warmth it inspires. The Lost Gonzos were always the kind of band that was keenly aware of its own impermanence and intangibility, though they seem particularly conscious of their lack of commercial viability here, and there is a peculiar appeal to this type of album, a record where the band just doesn't give a hoot, makes the album they want to make, and lets the cards fall where they may. Or maybe I'm reading too much into it? It's possible they just didn't have that much gas in the tank anymore, and had hit the end of the journey. I have to admit, there's not much on here that really grabs my fancy, and even album's one enduring "hit" ("London Home Sick Blues") is a song about being thoroughly burnt out and discouraged, an emphatic rejection of life on the road that, in its jaundiced exhaustion, puts to shame countless other rock'n'roll "band on tour" solipsisms. Also of note is "Everybody Knows This Ain't Art," a thinly realized ditty that has an almost new wave feel to it (and a song I could see being revived by some inspired indie rock band somewhere...) But if we're being honest, this record's pretty negligible. Lead singer Gary P. Nunn embarked on a solo career not long after this, with his first solo album coming out in 1980, the started of an artistic rejuvenation that made him an icon in his own right.
The Lost Gonzo Band "Rendezvous" (Amazing Records, 1991)
(Produced by Lloyd Maines)
The main trio of Gary P. Nunn, Bob Livingston and John Inmon reunite for this stripped down set, with production (and probably some musical assistance) from Lubbock legend Lloyd Maines. Some tracks suggest a greatest-hits set -- new versions of "Geronimo's Cadillac," "Fool For A Tender Touch" and Ray Wylie Hubbard's "Prairie Madness" -- though there's also some new material, songs such as "Corona Con Lima" and "Terlingua Sky," which made their way into Gary P. Nunn's personal repertoire in re-recorded versions. Of note, perhaps, is the track "Comanche Highway," in which the fellas finally give Geronimo and his Cadillac a place to roam.
The Lost Gonzo Band "Hands Of Time" (Vireo Records, 1995)
(Produced by Lloyd Maines)
John Inmon and Bob Livingston were on board for this final(?) hoo-rah, though not Gary P. Nunn. However, in a deep callback to the band's primordial roots, horn player Thomas Ramirez is back in the mix, with Lloyd Maines once again working the soundboard and presumably adding a few licks on pedal steel. And if you ever felt you'd like to hear an alternate version of "Dead Armadillo," well, here you go.
The Lost Gonzo Band "Dead Armadillos" (Edsel Records, 1996)
A fairly straight, but not quite complete, reissue of the band's first two albums, with two tracks -- "Money" and "Love Drops" -- dropped off of the playlist. I guess they couldn't get the rights to the Capitol stuff, which is kind of a shame, since a Lost Gonzo Band collection without "London Home Sick Blues" is just a little bit goofy. Besides, I also wouldn't mind a best-of that managed to wedge in "Santa Cruz (After The Nick Of Time)" and maybe a couple of other tunes. Maybe next time. Meanwhile, this certainly has its selling points: "Dead Armadillo" is still pretty funny and "The Last Thing I Need" is a stone-cold classic, so having them available in a digital format is pretty groovy.