Bob Wire’s latest overflows with classic country characters: heartbroken boozers, lovable transgressors, oblivious fools and a Coup de Ville enthusiast named “Cadillac Jones.” But the local musician—aka Ednor Therriault—doesn’t play his characters straight and he will not be backed into a corner of tear-in-your-beer schmaltz or self-important, pop-country crap. Even tunes that appear classically sentimental like “My Heartache and Me” can’t completely escape the tongue-in-cheek tone of the album’s title.

That’s not to say Sentimental Breakdown isn’t serious
Letters Med. Square
. On the contrary, it’s a dangerously engaging album. It may be less aggressive than the last Bob Wire effort, American Piehole, but his subtle wickedness and buoyant mockery here are just as potent as any face punch. The clap-happy “Jesus in My Heart” saddles itself to lines like “I’m prayin’ and I’m grinnin’ but I go right on sinnin’, long as I got Jesus in my heart;” each time the chorus becomes more deliciously unapologetic. And in “Adios and Vaya Con Dios,” a guy breaks up with his smoking, drinking, enabling girlfriend lest he go early to his grave.

You can’t beat the candor on Sentimental Breakdown, and the rowdy cover of “Take Me Home Country Roads” is Bob Wire’s proverbial cherry on top. (Erika Fredrickson)

Bob Wire’s on a mission, first to save country music from itself - he figures most of it contains far too much lame-itude - and second to save himself.

The former is up for debate, but the latter he explores in “Jesus in My Heart,” the alt-country crooner’s new CD, “Sentimental Breakdown.”

“I’ve got Jesus in my heart, every week I get a brand-new start,” sings Wire on this 11-track CD. But if you think Wire’s got a new religion, think again, because this is no revivalist CD. “But I’m praying and I’m grinnin’, cause I go right on sinnin’, as long as I’ve got Jesus in my heart.”
*
Yes, Wire loves hypocrisy, relationships torn apart by cigarettes and booze (“Adios Y Vaya Con Dios”), the glory of raisin-farming (“In Defense of the Raisin”) and other such mundaneness and trivialities of life that he finds - and makes - so amusing.

This is good ol’ country with a punk mentality, if the punkers had a sense of humor. And if you’ve ever seen Bob Wire in his ubiquitous performances around Missoula and elsewhere, you know you’re in for a good, hearty laugh with a side of grits - as well as a raucous cover of John Denver’s “Take Me Home (Country Roads).” And no, there is nothing irreverent about Wire’s cover - he wouldn’t dance on anyone’s grave now, would he?

‘Bob Wire’ , aka Ednor Therriault, hails from Missoula Montana and, between raising a couple of kids and doing freelance graphic design he occasionally tours the local bar circuit with his band, The Magnificent Bastards. With a cheesy title like “American Piehole”, the impression is that of a middle aged man’s side-project, a chance for some free beers and dragging out the old rock and roll fantasy for a couple more years. He says ‘he writes songs for adults who have a sense of humour and aren’t afraid to think for themselves’ although, on the evidence here, his talents exceed that naff bravado and the jokey hokum may just be something to hide behind if the critics turn nasty. Despite the corny lyrics and self-effacing redneck humour, Wire (they call him ‘The Burlap Fog’) has a nice line in retro-country vocals and his band, although they may have their best years behind them, sound tight and professional--certainly more punch than paunch. The real surprise here is that the songs themselves are actually far more sophisticated and interesting than the tongue-in-cheek presentation suggests. The humour of lyrics like ‘White Trash Paradise’ has all been done before (and Robbie Fulks he ain’t) but when Wire takes the mask off and plays it straight as on ‘Saigon’, ‘Rio de Muerte’ and ‘Tucson’ he transcends his own goofy pastiche and actually sings and plays like a seasoned pro. Take away the hackneyed jokes and repackage the cd with a sepia picture of a something like a saguaro cactus or some scuffed-up cowboy boots (come on, you’re a graphic designer!) and this could almost pass as a legitimate piece of contemporary Americana. Don’t be put off by the jokes. In an unusual inversion of traditional marketing methods, Bob Wire is actually better than the cartoonish pastiche he pretends to be. Usually, it’s the other way around.
(rating: 7 out of 10)