Nathaniel Rateliff's Old-School Blues Reunion

1001 Albums To Hear Before Your iPod Battery Dies, Part 14
Nathaniel Rateliff & the Night Sweats, Nathaniel Rateliff & the Night Sweats

In the summer of 2015, an unexpected track hit American airwaves, a song with a capella stanzas that sounded like a traditional Gospel choir. Audiences who didn’t listen to lyrics too closely could’ve been forgiven for snapping their fingers and humming along, thinking they were hearing something from an earlier era of American music history. At least, until the musically loaded chorus, where the featured vocalist suddenly shouted “Son of a bitch! Gimme a drink!”

Nathaniel Rateliff paid his dues on the Denver music circuit, where he became a local headliner while polishing his songwriting chops. He tried his hand, at various times, with straight-ahead rock music, more sober folk content, and carefully arranged chamber rock. He finally received success when he organized the Night Sweats, a more upbeat combo focusing on a retro Memphis soul sound. But, like their platinum-scoring breakout single, their sound often conceals much deeper sadness.

That lead single, “S.O.B.,” propelled Rateliff’s ensemble into national awareness, perhaps because Rateliff’s ragged but tuneful vocals reflected the then-current mix of disappointment and optimism based on the culture and economy. Rateliff never sounds anything but soulful, but he also sings with a distinct burr in his voice, possibly reflecting his having worked as a carpenter and a loading dock operator while perfecting his style. This man knew the sounds of existential disappointment.

Audiences primed by that single, however, were undoubtedly surprised by the album. Rateliff’s actual sound was less Tom Waits, more Otis Redding, salted with a broad tour of American musical history. Stops in Memphis, Chicago, New Orleans, and the Piedmont gave his album a tenor that spoke to everyone, equally, at the same time. His mix of blues, folk, and rock offered crossover appeal, and he succeeded at an age other musicians are preparing to retire.

Nathaniel Rateliff (center, bearded) & the Night Sweats

The opening track, “I Need Never Get Old,” is built like a standard blues-rocker, but supplemented with an unexpected brass section that offers a depth of sound missing from others of its kind. It’s the kind of spitfire that Chess Records would’ve released around 1954, hoping to capture an elusive White audience. So it comes as something of a surprise when it transitions into the second song, “Howling at Nothing,” a somber epic of loneliness.

This pattern obtains throughout the album: one muscular rocker, followed by an introspective folkie number. “S.O.B.” swings directly into “Wasting Time,” a slower piece with heavy steel guitar, which sounds like something Jim Croce would’ve recorded at his peak. But even at its most melancholy, this album’s sound remains bolstered by the spring-loaded boom of hollow-bodied electric guitars. Rateliff’s complex, layered arrangements definitely play for grown-up attention in an otherwise youth-dominated music market.

Rateliff’s most unexpected track, late on the album, is “Shake.” Where the other songs sound like early proto-rock’n’roll, this track sounds like the kind of music White record labels rush-released to counter rock’s sensual appeal. It combines bluesy guitar with a percussion line influenced by North African folk music, not unlike when White companies tried floating Cuban and other Caribbean music. The lyrics, however, have a sexual frankness Desi Arnaz could’ve only obliquely hinted at.

Arguably, this reflects the entire album: musically, much of it sounds like it could’ve been recorded fifty or sixty years ago. But lyrically, it’s definitely current, and its themes reflect many of the realities of adulthood. Rateliff’s narrative voice enjoys the autonomy that growing up offers, but he isn’t immune to maturity’s disappointments. Conjoining songs like “Thank You,” about enjoying having a grown-up relationship, with “Look It Here,” where he has to beg for recognition, emphasizes this.

Audiences periodically feel drawn to music from another era, usually during a time when social values are changing from gung-ho optimism to existential disappointment. Creedence Clearwater Revival at the end of the 1960s, for instance, or the Squirrel Nut Zippers in the middle 1990s, repackaged sounds from a prior generation and made them new and contemporary. Nathaniel Rateliff speaks to that same audience motivation, and probably for the same reason, as 2015 was pretty disappointing.

Sadly, Rateliff still hasn’t found Top-40 success. “S.O.B.” and several follow-up singles topped the Adult Album Alternative charts, suggesting he quickly found a full-grown audience eager for more complex sounds. Like Rateliff, who was pushing forty when he had his first hit, his audience probably feels alienated from the present. We aren’t necessarily running from the world; we just aren’t fooled by its pretty promises. The commercial mainstream will never quite have a place for us.