Critic's Review
Jack Rabid, All Music Guide
The debut Jessie LP, after a handful of singles (re-recorded here) for Frankie N.W. Stubbs' second post-Leatherface band, has all the hallmarks of both his former bands. Stubbs' growly, grumbly, somehow teary, heart-stopping voice is the primary one, the weapon he continues to wield on one of the most painful lost love/lost innocence/lost control/lost grounding songbooks. But his simple yet jagged riffs, supple bass and drums, and just short of punk, barely restrained roar are all here, too. Most and best of all, here are more of the agonizingly emotional undertones that made the final (original) days of Leatherface so great. Jesse's production isn't as clean as The Last or Mush, so it takes those few plays to adjust. If not as muddy as Pope's LP, it's still a trifle murky in the background. But that's the only flaw this LP has, apart from one surprisingly boring cut, "Dogsong." Stubbs seems on the verge of breakdown into sorrowful melancholy on a number of tracks, only with an air of odd defiance, as if he's hurting but knows he'll weather it. He inspires hard empathy instead of irritation. You look forward to Stubbs' lyrics and he never fails, particularly as one experiences them with that gut-wrenching sincerity clutched within that sandpaper-voiced howl. Looking for a little substance in your rock & roll for a change? Can you stomach so much substance it makes you feel like doubling over in pain and silent horror? One doesn't so much as buy and enjoy Stubbs' LPs as much as fall in sad love with them, moved, shaken, tossed, and impressed that honest sentiment and hard-boiled vulnerability are still expressed straight-up in the world. So long as Stubbs still rides, the race is still on, and it's to the most emotive, not to the swiftest.
