Eddie Spaghetti, front man for those Seattle-based pleasure barons of arena garage punk The Supersuckers, kicks out his first solo album of all originals. You might find that songwriting distinction surprising--given his lifetime traveling to two-bit hotels and dumpy backstages in order to spend a couple glorious hours on stage throwing devil's horns and country-damaged metal to the adoring masses--but it's the truth. The Value of Nothing distills everything he's learned in his career-long, over-the-top and tongue-in-cheek adoration of all things rock and roll into a genre-scoffing dose of snarling country rock, full of pop hooks and wiseguy humor delivered with a brain, a heart, & a beer. Recorded in Eddie's surrogate hometown of Austin, TX, he employed the assistance of a genuine Texas badass, one Mr. Jesse Dayton (collaborator with such country legends as Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, and, um, Rob Zombie), in the hopes of making a more authentic country record. Well, ol' JD thought that working with Eddie was his opportunity to get his RAWK on, so The Value of Nothing ended up a hybrid: a ragtop-down road trip soundtrack; an album embracing the guilty and not-so-guilty pleasures of classic rock, hooky-as-hell Texas roadhouse, and the alwayslurking- on-the-corner-barstool dirty joking of classic Supersuckerism. The Value of Nothing gallops out of the gate with the Southwestern-inflected title track, all wide-lens spaced-out cowpunk, Eddie's gravel road vocals both urgent and laid back cool. 'Empty' follows with classic rock power chords filtered through the haze hanging over his buddy Willie Nelson's ranch. The ragged, lazy charm of 'Waste of Time' is a paean to kickin' back, the theme song to those days where it's almost too much goddamn effort to get off the couch and get a beer, all sung with a crooked smile and topped with some wicked fried slide guitar. With the lighter-sparking final track, 'When I Go, I'm Gone,' we hear a surprisingly subdued Eddie, a man confident in the power of his hooks. It wouldn't be an Eddie Spaghetti record, though, without some full-on wise-assery. 'Fuckin' with My Head' channels '77 era UK punk with its jittery energy and feels-so-good-to-shout-along chorus. And then there's that Chuck Berry-gone-metal guitar solo by Jesse D... The swinging conjunto throwdown of 'People Are Shit' tells it like we all know it is, but Eddie's got the stones to come right out and say it. Eddie's last solo album, Sundowner (Bloodshot 2011), featured covers from the likes of C&W stalwarts like Dave Dudley and Johnny Cash right next to punk rock snots like the Dwarves and the Lee Harvey Oswald Band. The Value of Nothing continues Eddie's disinterest in tedious genre orthodoxies. From punk rock's energy, metal's showmanship, and country's storytelling intimacy, Eddie finds unexpected commonalities.
Full Bio
Eddie grew up in Tucson, Arizona trying desperately to ignore the country music that floated all around him. Seems like every pick-up truck and storefront speaker was cranking out the syrupy wails of some heartbroken hick and he just wasn't having it. So, as a kid, he turned to Heavy Metal, then Punk Rock, to block out the noise and that's how his band, The Supersuckers, was born. Formed in late '88, The Supersuckers aim was to strip away some of the pretense of late '80's Heavy Metal and put a little showmanship into the Punk scene. It was a tightrope act few bands could achieve but, by the beginning of '89, not only had the band done it, they were ready to make a move away from the dirt roads, dead ends and dust of their hometown. Heads was New Orleans, tails Seattle. Tails.
And, in May of 1989, off they went. Having no clue that Seattle was about to become "Rock City, U.S.A." for a few great years, Eddie and his grimy gang jumped blindly into a scene that had been thriving unrecognized for years. It didn't take long however for them to find Seattle to be the perfect place to "not fit in". The Supersuckers put out a few singles, then signed to Sub-Pop and began what has been over two decades of ass kicking, ground pounding hemi-hogging punk-n-roll. It didn't take too long, however, for the country music that he tried so hard to avoid in his youth to start surfacing in the music Eddie was making as a young man. The foray back to the country began in 1993 with the Supersuckers side project, The Junkyard Dogs and the rare, hard to find and out of print recording, "Good Livin' Platter" (Sympathy For The Record Industry).
It wasn't county per-se, but it was close and the seed was planted.
Official Website: Eddie Spaghetti Online
