Jerrod Niemann is not a typical country artist, and the
audacious, groundbreaking Judge Jerrod & The Hung Jury is a far cry from
a typical country album. With the first track, which is a humorously
hyperbolic movie trailer, and the attention-grabbing lyrics of the
opening song, “They Should Have Named You Cocaine,” listeners quickly
realize they’re in for an extraordinary ride.
Niemann’s debut for Sea Gayle/Arista Nashville includes up-tempo
cuts, heartache balladry, wicked wordplay and a couple of cool covers,
all woven together with short comedic interludes. The 20 tracks
constitute a progressive, album-length voyage into utterly unique
territory in the country music landscape.
The lead single, “Lover, Lover,” is a groove-oriented,
handclap-fueled Top 15 smash that features nine vocal parts, all
recorded by Niemann himself.
“My original plan was to just sing the lead vocal part,” Niemann
explains. “I was going to get Jamey Johnson, Randy Houser, Chris Young
and a bunch of my friends to each sing a part. But I didn’t have a
record deal, and I realized that getting permission for all of them
would have been torturous, so my co-producer, Dave Brainard, suggested
that I try singing all the parts. I sang eight out of nine parts the
first night. The only part I didn’t have was that low bass part. I just
couldn’t hit those notes. So Dave and I went down to the Tin Roof in
Nashville, and in the name of country music, we properly medicated the
vocal cords. When I woke up the next morning, I sounded like a mix
between Richard Sterban from the Oak Ridge Boys and that cartoon Grape
Ape.”
Listeners might get the catchy chorus of “Lover, Lover” permanently
stuck in their heads — which is exactly what happened to Niemann when he
heard the original version of the song, written by Dan Pritzker of the
rock band Sonia Dada, and titled “You Don’t Treat Me No Good.”
“When I first heard that song, I was in a community swimming pool in
Liberal, Kansas, in 1993,” Niemann recalls. I’ve always loved that song,
and I associate it with my childhood. I took it into the studio, played
it for Dave [Brainard], and literally five minutes later we were
recording it, just on a whim.”
Niemann wrote or co-wrote ten of the album’s dozen songs. His
co-writers on “They Should Have Named You Cocaine” were his buddies
Jamey Johnson and Dallas Davidson. This track’s unusual production
merges traditional, jazzy sounds with a space-age theremin (inspired by
the Beach Boys) and just a touch of the Electric Light Orchestra hit
“Strange Magic.”
Niemann shows his sensitive side with “What Do You Want,” the
emotional centerpiece of the album. “That was the first time I had ever
written a song truly from the heart,” Niemann admits. “I wasn’t trying
to write a hit song. I just wanted to get it out of my system. I was
missing an ex-girlfriend, and I would just start the process of getting
over her, and then I’d hear from her. So that’s how that song came
about.”
Niemann’s compositions reflect an adherence to the adage “Write what
you know.” He calls “Old School New Again” his “soapbox” number because
it comments on the machinations of the music industry. The song
chronicles the hopes of a struggling musician, as Niemann sings, “I know
times, they change / So I ain’t sayin’ we need to go back to Nudie
suits, rhinestones and fringe / I just wanna be proud of what I’m playin’
/ And sing a little Lefty now and then.”
He returns to the music-industry theme with the lighthearted barroom
anthem “One More Drinkin’ Song.” The track is preceded by “A Concerned
Fan,” a tongue-in-cheek skit addressing the notion of using demographic
data as the basis for writing a country song.
The solo composition “For Everclear” is the smile-inducing tale of a
hard-partying college student who winds up in bed with his instructor. A
boisterous cover of Robert Earl Keen’s “The Buckin’ Song” features the
kind of sly wordplay that Niemann has made a trademark of his own
songwriting. “I didn’t write that song, but I thought it was just
offensive enough to put on the album,” he jokes.
Puns and wordplay also are showcased in the tropical tune “Down in
Mexico” and its accompanying sketch, “Phone Call at 3 A.M.” This
Buffettesque track proves that an episode of quasi-drunk-dialing can
result in a great country song.
Other album highlights include the R&B–flavored scorcher “Come Back
to Me,” a poetic rumination on lost love called “Bakersfield,” the
honky-tonk rave-up “How Can I Be So Thirsty” (penned with John Anderson
and Billy Joe Walker, Jr.) and a dramatic ballad with strings, “I Hope
You Get What You Deserve.”
With a single spin of the album, it’s obvious that the recording
sessions for Judge Jerrod were a blast. Ironically, Niemann’s personal
life at the time was in tatters.
Although Niemann had experienced triumphs as a songwriter — with his
songs being recorded by Garth Brooks, Jamey Johnson, Julie Roberts and
Blake Shelton — he yearned to be a performer himself. Things weren’t
going well in that regard. He had signed a recording contract, only to
see the deal fall apart. Niemann signed another recording contract, but
that one also failed to come to fruition. Then his life took a turn for
the worse.
“I was at rock bottom,” he recalls. “I had horrible depression. I ran
off a girl I was dating, and she moved clear to India. I gained 60
pounds, so I looked like the Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters. I didn’t
write a song for almost a year. That’s when I ran into Jamey Johnson, at
that point in my life. He said, ‘Man, I can tell you’re not yourself.
Why don’t you go cut a record? That’s what I did, and it changed my
life.’ And Jamey was right. So I took a year to record the album, and by
the end of that process, I had lost every bit of the weight. It’s
amazing how doing something that you love can change your inner self and
your outer appearance.”
After Niemann finished the album, he shared it with the heads of his
publishing company, Sea Gayle Music. They wanted to shop it to Arista
Nashville, and Niemann agreed, but under one condition: Not a single
note on the album could be changed. In a bold move, Arista Nashville
signed Niemann and agreed to release the album as is, even keeping the
title (with its double entendre) intact.
Niemann says, “We called it Judge Jerrod & The Hung Jury, but it’s
not so much because I’m a judge. Instead, it’s about the idea that
everybody is going to judge me and my band for making this album.
Whenever you attempt to do anything different or unique, people are
going criticize it. But that’s okay. I’ve been made fun of my whole
life. Why stop now?”
Niemann grew up in Liberal, a tiny town in west Kansas. As a child,
his knowledge of music was expanded at the skating rink that his parents
owned. “That’s where I got my street cred, as a 7-year-old, rolling in
circles, looking dangerous and mysterious on eight wheels of Country &
Western thunder,” he recalls with a laugh. “I remember skating to Queen,
to Run-D.M.C. and Aerosmith doing “Walk This Way,” and to the Oak Ridge
Boys’ “Elvira.”
After graduating from Liberal High School, Niemann studied music for
two years at South Plains College in Levelland, Texas. Then he moved to
Fort Worth, where he honed his songwriting and learned how to win over
tough crowds in bars. He moved to Nashville in 2000.
Today, Niemann is ready to become the full-fledged artist he always
dreamed of being.
“A few years ago, my friends and I were burning up the honky-tonks in
Nashville, but now everybody has matured a little bit,” he reflects. “We
all realized that we’re representing country music whenever we leave
Nashville. We still get rowdy and have fun, but we know where this town
came from. We love it and we respect it. We’re doing what we can to
ensure that country music fans have music that not only entertains them,
but that they can enjoy in any mood.”
Niemann feels that he can be a distinct voice in country music, but
he realizes he’s standing on the shoulders of giants. “Waylon and Willie
are considered hard-core traditionalists now, but they were very
innovative back in the day, and they caused a lot of controversy. No
one’s ever going to say what they said, or sang what they sang, as well
as they did. But I think there’s something unique that I can contribute
to the format. If I can make somebody laugh, or get someone who’s never
listened to country music to come over and check it out, then I’ve
accomplished my goal.”
