Though Native Tongue is the standard 10 tracks and only 42 minutes long, it’s testament to the sheer genius socially conscious depth and sweeping aesthetic of The Tasty Kings’ third album that it’s accompanied not only by the brief insightful song descriptions of the NYC group’s founder, songwriter and guitarist Andrew Morse, but also by profound analytical essays by poet laureate Jardine Libaire and Lane Lannan, former Editor in Chief of the Penn, who wrote a soulful review/essay of the collection’s most provocative, analysis worthy literary/musical gem “Maybe I’m a Queen” for Endless Summer Quarterly, the Beach Boys’ publication of record.
Casual fans who stumble upon this Rolling Stones-vibing star-studded slice of pop/rock artistry – or who were perhaps unfamiliar with The Tasty Kings’ first two albums Old Lockhart Highway (2018) and Seven Nights to Rock (2020) – might wonder why a review of Native Tongue would make sense on a Beach Boys site. It’s due to Morse’s brilliant choice to feature on every track the beautifully weathered, world weary and wise voice (and guitar) of South African singer Blondie Chaplin, a legendary six-decade journeyman who was a member of the Beach Boys in 1972-73 and who notably sang lead on their classic “Sail on Sailor.”
Perhaps best known as the backing vocalist, percussionist and acoustic rhythm guitarist for the Stones (both recording and on tour) from 1997 to 2012, Chaplin has also worked with The Byrds, Rock and Roll Hall of Famer Rick Denko (of The Band), Brian Wilson, Jeff Beck and others. Those who love what they hear from Chaplin on Native Tongue may want to indulge in scrounging the streaming sites for his self-titled 1977 album and his 2006 “follow-up” Between Us.
Morse’s vision for bringing the truly “tasty” to this latest ensemble of The Tasty Kings includes inviting two other Stones alum to the party, including bassist Darryl Jones and drummer Charley Drayton, plus a powerhouse ensemble that includes the likes of guitarists Charlie Sexton and Kevin Trainor, keyboardists Stephen Barber and Joel Diamond, saxophonist John Mills, and dobro player Milo Deering. Reflective of how many years the seeds of Native Tongue were germinating – even pre-dating the Tasty Kings’ debut - contributors also include late greats George Reiff (a bassist who passed in 2017) and onetime Small Faces/Faces keyboardist Ian McLagan (2014).
These dearly departed perform on two of the collection’s songs, either of which would make compelling entry points to the whole Native Tongue experience. Reiff grooves and McLagan adds bluesy textures on the crackling, bluesy pop-rocker “Oceans Unfaithful” – a couplet driven romp using the cruel vicissitudes of nature as metaphor for human betrayal – and the charming closer “Girl Next Door, a breezy, mid-tempo ballad of wistful reflection, regret and resigned acknowledgement of the passage of time that reminds Morse of Lou Reed, with a “bridge (that) sounds a bit to me like the Stones in the late 70s.”
Anyone who wishes to become emotionally invested in the Native Tongue experience should treat themselves to Libaire’s majestic, thought-provoking essay to fully appreciate the project’s role as a social record, its simple yet surreal splashes of heartfelt and emotionally tugging poetry and the way it taps into a sense of familiarity and the joy of every day.
A simpler rundown would be this: that while the lyrics tackle all sorts of topics (from “George Floyd” (a t yesocially incisive acoustic guitar driven ballad) to the Greek myth of Icarus (the fast strumming, expansively literary, breathtakingly Gordon Lightfootish “Flyboy”) and a spirited, reggae romp about a long defunct Brooklyn moving company (the unflappable “Steady Reggie”), the album soars on the earthy soul-grit of Chaplin’s voice and the dynamic, mood-appropriate tones of each member of the band that now represents The Tasty Kings vibe.
Every track is a gem, starting with the Stones, Tina Turner-sque “Done and Dusted” (whose lively lilt contrasts with the resignation and exhaustion filled lyrics) and on through the fun, lighthearted, Lou Reedy “Birthday Girl,” the moody, ambient meditation about a regretful man’s obsession with his former lover’s birthmark that looks like “South America” and the peppy, hopeful acoustic romance “Kiss Me” that reminds Chaplin of Merle Haggard.
All those dazzling tunes serve as wondrous caressing cushions around Native Tongue’s centerpiece “Maybe I’m a Queen,” which rolls gently on the guitars of Chaplin, Morse and Sexton and the dobro of Deering, with Chaplin’s heartfelt melodic recitation of soul-searing lyrics and tight rhyme schemes sharing what the writer Lannan calls “a reflection on the tug of war between empowerment and subjugation.” This theme might not take shape in your mind in the first or second verse (“Maybe I’m a queen/Maybe I’m a slave. . .Maybe I’m the moon/Shattering the Sea/Maybe I forgot/What’s left of me”), but upon two, three or ten listens, it may (or may not!) become clearer.
This beyond memorable tune – which initially came to Morse at an airport in Austin circa 2019 - is so deep and enigmatic that it merits essays by both Lannan and Libaire. The awe-inspiring video by director Jacques Naudé has been submitted to 125 film festivals worldwide. Please do yourself a favor and scroll up and watch it!
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