Soul Asylum
Slowly but Shirley
Blue Elan
Leave it to Dave Pirner to reconnect with his childhood muse, ‘70s and ‘80s drag racing trailblazer Shirley Muldowney. Turning again to the iconic driver for defiant inspiration, Dave Pirner reassembles the Soul Asylum pit crew for Slowly but Shirley, a shambolic affair that captures the reckless abandon and dirty, raw energy of high-octane motor sports from yesteryear, putting out fires from its punked-out, Exile on Main St. crashes with gasoline.
Sounding as if it was knocked out in a day in a greasy garage, where everything was seemingly recorded in one perfectly imperfect, hot-wired take between smoke breaks, the exuberant Slowly but Shirley sees Soul Asylum getting loose around the turns but having more fun than they’ve had in years. Peeling out of the driveway with the catchy bash-and-pop of opener “The Only Thing I’m Missing” – stray, squealing guitar piercing the sky – and its hooky follow-up “High Road,” they joy ride in the sun across the yearning, melodic highways of “If You Want It Back” and “Trial By Fire” and swagger through “Freeloader,” tapping into the noisy yet tuneful squalls of their Twin Cities’ brethren The Replacements. They aren’t apologizing to anyone, let alone ma, for forgetting to take out the trash.
In this case, it truly is another man’s treasure. Tenderness and aching beauty grow through the cracks in its sidewalks, as bittersweet, softly electric ballads “You Don’t Know Me” and “Freak Accident” lick their lonesome wounds, rolling the dice on love and looking back on past mistakes with an open heart and wiser counsel. Both are among the most moving and relatable songs of Pirner’s history of wry, melancholic ramblings, but it’s the sloppy, yet charming and danceable, funk chops of an irresistible “Tryin’ Man” and an even gnarlier “Sucker Maker” that make it feel like Soul Asylum is throwing out the rulebook and greatly enjoying its freedom.
Serving up Clam Dip & Other Delights again, Soul Asylum is wildly throwing darts at the wall and hitting bullseyes – with the occasional miss – just as they did with that rugged, torn-and-frayed EP from 1989. By turns anthemic and gentle, rousing and deeply introspective, Slowly but Shirley is rather blissful, but also a frustrated, cathartic rebel yell and a teary therapy session. Shirley just might enjoy it.
