David Ackles
American Gothic

“Directly from Rock Island, Illinois, please welcome David Ackles!”. With a pause between the first and last name, I imagine the presenter's shout preceding the triumphant entrance of Ackles on stage, as he sits at the piano and begins solemnly singing some piece he wrote, with passion and total immersion. Like in films, those nostalgic ones, the kind that generate a strange feeling in your gut, those movies where the character is great, really great, yet equally great is his inadequacy, his sense of alienation in vast spaces, in front of crowds, great or small. An artist loved, yes, but not truly understood.
In part, I wish this had happened to Ackles. What actually happened? Complete indifference from the audience. As Nick Drake said in “I Was Born to Love Magic”: “I was born to love no one/No one to love me”, probably Mr. David was destined not to be loved, yet he sang, he, who claimed that “love is enough” (in a broader sense, “love is all that matters”). He was, indeed, appreciated by some, there was an attempt to launch him, more than one voice spoke in his favor, but it wasn't enough. No serious commercial breakthrough.

Decades after his time, it is strange, tragicomic, that Ackles' art is appreciated by artists like Phil Collins (who declared “Down River” as one of his all-time favorite songs), Elvis Costello (who loudly wondered why David's songs hadn't become classic standards, to sing and have as exempla), and Elton John, whose lyricist Bernie Taupin produced the album I discuss today: “American Gothic”.

I confess that the expression “American Gothic” has always fascinated me, but above all, unsettled me. Searching it on the Internet years ago, I discovered a 1988 horror film – which included Rod Steiger among its cast – that I will never forget. I had nightmares for more than one night. Some time later, I bought “Spoon River Anthology” by E. L. Masters, Mondadori edition, part of the “Modern Classics”, with a cover that calling unsettling would be an understatement. It features the famous oil painting by Grant Wood, dating back to 1930, depicting a farmer holding a pitchfork, and his daughter, standing in front of a wooden rural-style house. I look at the back of the book, discover the artist and title of the cover: “American Gothic” (Gotico Americano).

My journey of knowledge and exploration of the topic ends with the “American Gothic” sound, conceived by one of the artists most fit for the term “cult” and the expression “discovered too late”.
It is the third music album of the artist from Rock Island, who had been a character in the 1940s as a child actor in several films of the “Rusty” series.
Promoted as the “Sgt. Pepper’s” of folk, labeled as a “classic” by Melody Maker, “American Gothic” was released in July '72, the same year as “Pink Moon” by the aforementioned Nick Drake, released a few months earlier. The two albums share the commercial failure. Both artists were supported by friends and colleagues (Elton John had also supported Nick for a period) but perhaps, due to their challenging personalities that led them to rarely perform publicly, they harmed their own prospects.

Eleven songs, recorded in London, form an ideal Broadway concert-showpiece, on the ambiguities behind American society and culture, narrated by the voice of an Ackles who seems to foreshadow, on a singer-songwriter level, a Tom Waits, and who seems to draw something from Randy Newman, and even further back, from the theater of the duo Brecht/Weill.
Despite there being an element of irony and a certain willingness not to take oneself seriously, “American Gothic” contains a strong epic quality, given, largely, by Robert Kirby's arrangements (who had collaborated with the ever-present Nick Drake on “Bryter Layter” two years prior), and by a lyricism that brings Ackles close to Bruce Springsteen, who would make his debut to the world a year later, greeting from Asbury Park.
The highlights of this masterpiece, which, to tell the truth, is quite consistent in quality, are the title track, “Love’s Enough”, “Oh, California!”, “Family Band”, “Midnight Carousel”, and the long “Montana Song”.

Unlike Nick Drake and others plagued by “bad luck”, David did not die before reaching a certain age, although not quite venerable: struck down by lung cancer, in 1999, at age 62, in California, Ackles, despite the admiration of the aforementioned artists, remains, to this day, an elusive figure, mysterious, difficult to decipher. This can also be blamed on the scarce postmortem discographic attention (it should be noted that the only recently remastered album is his latest effort, “Five and Dime”, which caused, in '73, the breakup between the artist and Columbia, followed by Ackles' refusal to ever deal with a record label again).

Having retired to private life, David devoted himself to writing screenplays for television and theater. In 1981, he was involved in a car accident, from which he emerged with a seriously injured arm, and was confined to a wheelchair, for several months.

Rating: 10/10