Featuring a variety of guest performers throughout, including
Green on Red's
Chris Cacavas,
Juliana Hatfield,
Steve Wynn, and a fair hunk of
Poi Dog Pondering, Swerve features the then duo of
Gelb and
Convertino on a fine slew of songs. Recorded at a number of different locations, from Boston to Los Angeles, Swerve found
Gelb reaching the ten-year point with his band in fantastic style. Starting with the brilliant stop-start electric guitar intro on "Can't Find Love" -- don't listen carefully and it sounds like the CD player's on the blink --
Gelb and
Convertino and company hit the ground running.
Gelb's fractured vision of roots music meets modern times sounded distinct and enjoyable enough at the time of Swerve's release, and still holds up excellently in later years. His ear for aggressively weird soloing in particular is just great (check "Dream Stay" for one of his best
Neil Young nods yet), while his straight playing remains quite accomplished.
Gelb's friendly twang, once again, is a treat, able to convey emotion and humor in the same sly turn of phrase. Quieter songs are no less off-kilter, with
Convertino's ear for odd percussion playing and time signatures turning, for instance, the lounge jazz (years before the revival) mania of "Swerver" into something the likes of the
Cherry Poppin' Daddies couldn't dream of. The swerve theme carries through a number of brief tracks throughout the album, all entertaining little jams that keep things agreeably light. Total standouts include the wry country'n'swing of "Some Kind Of," "Trickle Down System," as good an anthemic Band tribute as any, and a version of "Every Grain of Sand" that's simply inspiring, one of the best
Bob Dylan covers recorded. Then there's the perfectly screwy "Former Version of Ourselves," which veers from everything from solo synth moodiness to finger-poppin' Vegas to more familiar
Giant Sand fusions and back again, and makes it all work to boot.