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Say No More (2001)

No Depression
TASTEFUL TWANG
by Bill Snyder

Randy Casey is driven like a man with a life's calling; it just gets a little tricky trying to figure out what that calling is. He's an outstanding cook, an avid sports fan, a gardener, and, yes, a musician.

He's done arena tours as Shannon Curfman's music director, recorded with Peter Himmelman and Billy McLaughlin, and released two solo albums of roots rock. He's also scored plays and industrial films, and created "music beds" for department store advertising kiosks used by companies such as Levi's and Vidal Sassoon. All of which might seem like a lot of push-and-pull between art and commerce, but the guitarist loves it all.

"A lot of musicians would scoff at the idea of producing music [for advertising]," he says over a bottle of wine and a pizza that he made with tomatoes from his garden. "But my passion for food, my passion for sports, and my passion for fresh air — I'm passionate about all of these things equally. If someone says, 'Can you produce music for whatever,' nine times out of 10, I'll say 'yes' and mean it. I look at a film, and the pictures themselves are inspiration enough for me to come up with a piece of music."

Rather than distracting from his art, Casey says the commercial and film work actually fueled his third album, Say No More. "I thought, I'm writing all this music for other people to use in their projects, why don't I just have my own project of my own instrumental music?"

The connection to his advertising work is tangible. The 11 guitar-centric instrumentals feel like a soundtrack without need of a film. They shuffle gracefully between the twang of "Take Manhattan" and the swamp blues of "Outside Dela Croix," but they carry a surprisingly ethereal feel to them. Multi-tracked acoustic instruments — including National steel, mandolin, lap steel, and guitar (both 6-string and 12-string) — along with the very subtle use of a sampler, create the sort of visceral textures and soundscapes generally associated with electronic music. In a car, or, better yet, a Greyhound, it does for passing scenery what Ry Cooder did for Paris, Texas.

Though Casey played about 75 percent of the album himself, he was joined by an enviable list of artists, including violinist Jessy Greene (VioVoom, Jayhawks), pedal steel player Eric Heywood (Son Volt, Richard Buckner), guitarist/drummer Rich Mattson (Ol' Yeller), and drummer Mick Wirtz (Bellwether) — people who just happened to be passing through his kitchen.

"All the sidemen who played on this record came over to my house. We BS-ed, had a glass of wine, ate some great homemade food, and then went down to the studio," Casey explains. "I got to ask my friends to come over more as friends than musicians. I really think that is what makes this album special."

St. Paul Pioneer Press
LATEST MUSICAL GEMS AND GERMS FROM MINNESOTA
By Jim Walsh

Casey has slugged it out on the local scene for years as a songwriter and bandleader, but despite his gifts as a lyricist, words get put on the back burner for this well-executed, all-instrumental outing that could potentially find its way onto movie soundtracks for futuristic spaghetti westerns or a Moby-like licensing deal that could turn the world on to Casey's sweet guitar and eerie emanations. As it stands, though, there is a purity to these proceedings that supersedes mere background music.

With the help of an all-star cast that includes such players as Jessy Greene, Eric Heywood and Rich Mattson, Casey proves that techno and ambient artists don't have a corner on the atmospheric soundscape market. Hypnotic, repetitive, mood-altering and wholly original, Say No More plays like a vintage Leo Kottke record as channeled through a Martian jug-band, and its reliance on sounds rather than words is a welcome hymn to the silence in this era of over-communication.

Minneapolis Star Tribune
RANDY CASEY, SAY NO MORE
By Jon Bream

This instrumental effort serves two purposes: It's a convincing calling card to advertise Casey's versatility as a guitarist for any band looking for an ace picker (he's played with Shannon Curfman, Ol' Yeller and others), and it's a rewarding mood-defining collection of soundscapes unto itself. With Casey playing mandolin, harmonica, National steel, lap steel and other guitars, Say No More suggests a slide-happy, Southern-fried Leo Kottke gone ambient. Casey turns Led Zeppelin's "Bron-Yr-Aur" into a piece of sunny bluegrass exotica. Shades of U2 ("Dawn on the Delta") and Little Feat ("Mullabama Stomp") can be heard, but the Kottkesque circular patterns combined with the repetious minimalism make for a contemplative and occassionally haunting listening.

Pulse of the Twin Cities
RANDY CASEY, SAY NO MORE
By Tom Hallett

You might think it a bit cheeky, but I find the title of axeman extraordinaire Randy Casey's third solo album, the all-instrumental Say No More, quite humorous. Thankfully, Casey, who's performed with Shannon Curfman, members of Taj Mahal, Bonnie Raitt and John Fogerty's bands, and recently amicably split from Glenrustles co-founder Rich Mattson's latest project, Ol' Yeller, abandoned all attempts at overt silliness there. Say No More is a brilliant mishmash of styles, genres and influences brought together by Casey's inimitable guitar playing and a host of special guests, including pedal steel wiz Eric Heywood, multi-instrumentalist Jessy Greene and Mattson.

Kicking off with the gorgeous "Take Manhattan," a shimmering yet throbbing cruise down a sentimental street, the record grabs you by the throat right out of the gate and simply doesn't let go until the final track is ringing in your ears. Diving right into the album's only cover, a ballsy reading of Led Zep's "Bron-Yr-Aur," Casey showcases his love for intricate, acoustic pickin' born of a heavy rock base. The front-porch ramble "Hats Off to Sonny Moonlight, Pt. I," conjures images of fireflies, a full moon and soft breezes over a lover's hair. "Black and Tan" is a dirty, low-key blues that incorporates the swagger of Robert Johnson with the sensitivity of Nick Drake, and "Outside De La Croix" is his own "Crossroad Blues," replete with caustic axe, Greene's haunting violin and driving, hell-bound snare work. "You've Got to Be a Daddy by Now" finds Casey nimbly picking his way through a siren-call of chamberlain, accordion and samples to bring home his point, while "Graceland Kiss" brings a hot Delta smooch to dead Elvis via wholesome, Midwestern lips. Scotty Moore and Bill Black woulda been mighty proud. "Boot's Room" brings the mood down to apprehensvie sadness for the first and only time — making you wonder who Boots was/is (His buddy? His dog? Either way, you get the feeling Boots is no longer with us), and why Casey's sad enough to blow that goosebump-inspiring harp with such palpable pain. "Hats Off... Pt. II" explodes like a runaway train outta a dark tunnel, and the final cut, "Dawn on the Delta," brings it all home with a wispy, time-worn sigh.

All in all, it's a fantastic collection of instrumentals that really need no vocal extrapolations. I actually feel bad using this many words to describe a record that needed none whatsoever to make me feel every strum, crack, cry and boom.