John Hiatt

John Hiatt
Oft Covered Singer/Songwriter Still Does His Own Thing
by Andrew Clayman
Published in The Knoxville Voice, October 2006



Too often, as in this article, the first thing you hear about John Hiatt is the roll call of really famous musicians who have covered his songs— Eric Clapton, Bob Dylan, Bonnie Raitt, B.B. King, that adorable little Mandy Moore— it’s an impressive list. Unfortunately, such identification through association also says a bit about the bittersweet nature of Hiatt’s 30 years in rock n’ roll. Despite steady praise from his critics and peers, he’s remained fixed in the public’s periphery; never quite taking his place alongside those big stars he’s inspired.

The John Hiatt resume reads like a jet pilot’s itinerary— a lot of albums recorded in a lot of cities on a lot of different labels. As a native of Indianapolis, Indiana, he first broke into the business as a wide-eyed Midwesterner in the Dylan mold, chasing his dreams to Nashville in the early 70’s. It didn’t take him too long to find a niche penning tunes for other performers, culminating in Three Dog Night’s successful cover of “Sure As I’m Sittin’ Here” in 1974. Keep in mind that at that period in time, any connection to Three Dog Night was pure gold. Thus, in short order, John Hiatt found himself signed to Epic Records, where he released two good but mostly ignored folk rock LPs (Hangin’ Around the Observatory and Overcoats) and was subsequently given his walking papers.

This began a sad pattern for Hiatt that would stretch on for a tumultuous decade. First, he relocated to L.A. and was repackaged as MCA’s answer to Elvis (as in Costello), an experiment that would yield two more acclaimed but financially frail records (Slug Line and Two Bit Monsters) and another terminated contract. Then it was on to Geffen in the 80’s for a three-and-out stint (All of the Sudden, Riding With the King, Warming Up to the Ice Age) in which his return to roots rock was overshadowed by the kind of slick 80’s production that tears the guts out of good tunes. By 1985, Hiatt was again without a label and down in the depths of an alcohol fueled depression.

His recovery and ensuing creative resurgence led him to A&M Records, where the proverbial lost dog would finally find his home. Flanked by the likes of Nick Lowe and Ry Cooder, he recorded Bring the Family in 1987, the album that would earn him his greatest kudos and long awaited record sales. It wasn’t a smash hit, but it was a well-earned victory and a record that would provide much of the blueprint for Hiatt’s work since.

During the A&M years, Hiatt’s new countrified R&B rawness proved to be the perfect accompaniment to his gruff singing voice, which exists at the intersection between Al Green’s lower register and Bob Dylan’s higher one. He delved into folk, blues, soul, and rock with equal abandon, and watched the royalty checks roll in after Bonnie Raitt turned “Thing Called Love” into a monster hit.

Following up Bring the Family with three more stellar A&M efforts (Slow Turning, Stolen Moments, Perfectly Good Guitar), Hiatt moved on in the mid 90’s, recording a string of eclectically nostalgic albums for Capitol, Vanguard, and more recently, New West Records.

On his most recent CD, 2005’s Master of Disaster, the 54 year-old John Hiatt expanded his horizons like rarely before— metaphorically flying off the ropes like the luchador wrestler on the album’s cover. Recorded in Memphis with a balance of Muscle Shoals veterans and youthful rockers (including members of the North Mississippi All-Stars), Master of Disaster is a free-for-all of sorts, showcasing Hiatt’s diversity both lyrically and melodically.

“We were influenced by the blues, by country music, by ragtime, jazz, everything,” Hiatt explained in a recent press release. “But we were also reflecting the sense of the frontier, the whole Southern experience of different cultures and sounds bumping up against the Mississippi River.”

That being said, even the purest of Hiatt fans know that, regardless of what musical resources he’s mining, Hiatt’s greatest significance still lies in the songwriting itself. It’s the reason why a man who’s been on seven different record labels can still be one of the most consistently covered artists in the business. His classics, like “Slow Turning” and “Have a Little Faith In Me,” are clever in their simplicity and resonate without a hint of bombast. He might not be Dylan, but John Hiatt ain’t the poor man’s anything.