The Sun Rises Here

The Sun Rises Here is Neal’s true, honest-to-god, soft-country-rock record. He flirted with it on Fade Away Diamond Time, but this album solidified his place in the “alt-country” registry. This album has all of the necessary elements – mandolin, pedal steel, lots of acoustic guitar, a sometimes twang-y vocal- to give it a true New Jersey-meets-John Denver/Bernie Leadon/Poco flavor, with lyrics in the vein of Townes Van Zandt or Jackson Browne. The album was recorded in one week at Master Control in Burbank with many of the same players from the Fade Away session.

The record kicks off with “Today I’m Gonna Bleed,” the song that would’ve been a hit if life was fair. Backed by Tonya Lamm of Hazeldine, another No Depression darling worth more attention than they got, this is one of those Casal signature sad songs – sounds so happy and light but damn, the content is pretty heavy, although the song is supposed to be metaphorical- about something that can feel a lot like bleeding to many.

Likewise, “On the Mend” is a light and nimble melody, but the lyrics, longing for home, are striking – “If I were to sit right down to tell you how I think and feel / You would hear the loneliest sound to ever fall across your ears.” It’s almost too much.

“Reason” is another hit, a winding, driving guitar solo that stands apart from the rest of the more acoustic record, a nod to Neal’s harder rock roots. Greg Liesz plays the second acoustic guitar part to Neal’s electric, making this one of the most well-loved songs of Neal’s solo career.

The ringing, melodic mandolin on Angelina makes that track a standout as well, a tune that offers some reprieve after the weight of the first few songs; indeed a signature Casal love song – offering encouragement and warmth, lots of imagery around light, sun, brightness, rebirth – “So step into the light \ your new life has just begun” (a theme you’ll see repeated in past and future Casal songs – see “Leaving Traces” from Fade Away Diamond Time; “You’ll Miss It When It’s Gone” from Skiff by the Skiffle Players; etc. etc.)

“Dandelion Wine” was the closer for the Neal Casal Band around this era – the hoedown jam that brought the house down and pushes the album closer to the bluegrass edge it often hints at.

The Appalachian twist continues, in name only, on “The New Jenny Jenkins,” a reference to a rhyming children’s song from the mountains. The “old” version contains many nonsense words and verses in between couples about colors due to the widespread telephone-game of this song across the world and the accents and dialects that have formed it. The paralell between the old and new version? Much worth a deeper examination, because I’m not sure yet. If you have an idea, leave a comment.

“Real Country Dark” is the next barn raiser anthem, completing that real country feel. “Best to Bonnie” lyrically provides a contrast to “Jenny Jenkins”; while the latter depicts the need to reveal true feelings, “Bonnie” is about distance. ‘Bonnie’ is not capitalized in the liner notes, so bonnie must be meant in the British sense, also acknowledging the musician’s fascination with folk songs of the world – around this time Casal is on record calling himself “a bit of an anglophile” (Triste magazine, summer 1999).

The album’s closer, “The Last of My Connections” is mighty ambiguous but clearly a most personal song, with some of the prettiest guitar playing and singing on the album, heartbreaking lyrically while still managing to sound quite sunny. An enigma, to be sure.

Greg Leisz, the legendary player of pedal steel and other stringed instruments whose work can be heard on records by everyone from Joni Mitchell, Willie Nelson, Emmylou Harris, Rod Stewart, the list goes on; added his magic touch to The Sun Rises Here, playing acoustic guitar, pedal steel, mandolin, and the Weissenborn, a type of lap slide guitar. Neal himself said Leisz is “probably the most amazing musician I’ve ever worked with, without a doubt.”

Greg first heard of Neal when producer Jim Scott let him know his frequent colleagues Bob Glaub and Don Heffington were tracking for Fade Away Diamond Time. Leisz laid down pedal steel overdubs on two songs (“Bird in Hand” and “Open Ground”), but a connection was made and Greg became a go-to guy for the Casal team whenever some of that “electric spaceshit” was needed.

Throughout the 90s, Greg recorded quite a bit with Neal, and there wasn’t necessarily a distinct session per album at all times. Often Greg would work on a session that wouldn’t necessarily be released in chronological order, sometimes a track recorded here would pop up on a record there, or be saved for another compilation. “Some of the songs were in the can, so to speak, until he found a place to put them,” Greg says.

The thing about Neal is that he was always very into the music he was recording. He was really enthusiastic. He was living and breathing what he was doing.

He was really open to learning and hearing new sounds. He wasn’t overly protective of his music. He enjoyed the process of seeing what would happen when we were actually playing live together in the studio. I found him an easy person to be around and work with.

I just have this overall feeling about Neal. I always knew what it would be like when he walked into the room.

You knew that he was going to light up. He was always going to be really happy to see you. He made you feel good about being there, that you were really welcome. There were times when we worked together on other people’s records as well. If it wasn’t his project, he was always very supportive. He was always hungry to learn. He was very respectful of people that were older that he felt maybe had more experience. And he absorbed that, then he would bring it back to his own experience. I had an immense amount of respect for him and for his art, but also just for him as a person.

-Greg Leisz, August 2020