Wilbury twist

Casual supergroup bounces back from oblivion and onto the charts thanks
to Rhino Records reissue
By Sean Daly
St. Petersburg Times
Thursday, June 28, 2007

You remember how the Wilburys game worked, right?
Back in 1988, five music legends casually formed a supergroup, sitting
around a kitchen table and shouting out silly ditties that, upon closer
inspection, were pop masterpieces. It was a lark, a one-off among
musical brothers, and they took up jokey familial aliases: George
Harrison was Nelson Wilbury, Bob Dylan was Lucky, Tom Petty was Charlie
T. Jr., Roy Orbison was Lefty and Jeff Lynne was Otis.
Their first album, "Traveling Wilburys Vol. I," sold more than 5 million
copies; it was the sublimely breezy result of each man's famous gifts
(Harrison's woozy guitar, Orbison's high-lonesome croon, Dylan's
wordsmithery, etc.). In 1990, they released the winkingly titled, rather
uneven "Vol. III," which was made sans Orbison, who had died two years
earlier. Not long after that, both Wilburys albums inexplicably went out
of print for more than a decade, which lent even more mystery to the
curious project.
It's been a long time coming, but finally, the boys are back. Rhino
Records has re-released both Wilburys albums, complete with full
remastering, four bonus tracks, a DVD, plus liner notes that explain how
it all happened. The Traveling Wilburys Collection is extensive and tons
of fun, but it's also poignant, as Harrison, the head Wilbury, has since
passed away as well.
Were the Wilburys a significant musical movement? Not really. Were they
more fun than most pop acts? Absolutely. Do they still matter?
Apparently so, because the new set debuted atop the British charts and
bowed at No. 9 here in America.
Thanks to the extensive notes, the Wilburys are finally explained in
full: Way back when, Harrison had to come up with a B side for a single
from his album "Cloud Nine," which was being produced by Lynne. At the
same time, Lynne was working on new albums by Petty ("Full Moon Fever")
and Orbison ("Mystery Girl"). Petty had just finished touring with
Dylan. Dylan and Harrison were friends. One phone call led to another
and another.
"Handle With Care," the strummy, chummy result of five guys fooling
around, was considered too good for just a B side. Everyone was up for
forming a quickie supergroup, but they didn't want to use their real
names. That would be too serious, too corporate.
Lynne and Harrison had taken to calling certain studio gadgets
"wilburys" as in, these fancy studio gadgets "wilbury" any mistakes.
Lynne suggested the band name the Trembling Wilburys (which would later
get referenced in the song "Dirty World"); Harrison countered with the
Traveling Wilburys.
It was never meant to be more than good fun, and that's what it remains.
Although it was recorded in lightning time, "Vol. I" is flawless, with
Lynne, the brain trust behind ELO, producing the 10 tracks with cheeky
wit and full sonic bounce.
He often plays Dylan's craggy vocal against Orbison's seamless one,
sibling rivalry at its best.
Written as a group, the songs (usually about tough guys with broken
hearts) are meant for sing-alongs, especially the Petty-led dustup "Last
Night" and the comically hang dog "Congratulations." The shining light,
however, is "Tweeter and the Monkey Man," Dylan's gently teasing parody
of the Springsteen canon ("They knew that they found freedom just across
the Jersey line / So they hopped into a stolen car, took Highway 99").
Although it has its share of sweet moments, "Vol. III" often sounds too
polished, too careful, which totally misses the point. The first disc
was built solely on whimsy, but the follow-up often gets political,
especially such environmental scolds as "Inside Out" and "The Devil's
Been Busy." And yet, there's great stuff here too, especially ragged
rock rumbler "She's My Baby" (with a guitar solo by Thin Lizzy's Gary
Moore) and the gleefully frantic "Wilbury Twist," which teaches the
steps to a mythical dance ("Hop around the room in your underpants").
Beatlemaniacs, Dylanheads et al. will drool over the four bonus tracks,
and with good reason. "Vol. I" includes two previously unissued gems:
The mariachi-esque "Maxine" features a Harrison lead vocal and robust
harmonizing, and the cranky "Like a Ship" ("Go away, let me be") gets a
particularly froggy vocal from a heartsick Dylan.
"Vol. III" is souped up with the comically woe-is-us gallop "Nobody's
Child," which hints that the Wilburys actually might have been a band of
orphans, and a ramshackle cover of Del Shannon's "Runaway," in which the
guys sit around, bang on their guitars and just have a good ol' time.
And why not? After all, that was the Wilbury way.


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