It's been a long time since I went out and bought an album
after hearing it on the radio, but after hearing this album's latest single,
"Mine Forever," I decided to investigate further and decided that I
liked the sound of what I heard and thus took the plunge. And I was not
disappointed. This is the fourth album by this L.A.-based quartet, and as the
many reviews that have been published since its release in May of this year
will tell you, front man, vocalist, and songwriter
Ben Schneider is originally
from Michigan, and thus the group's name is based in part on one of the Great
Lakes that surround Michigan, Lake Huron. But the sound on this album will not
call to mind either California or Michigan because it is planted firmly in the
desert southwest or big sky country--long vistas of loneliness that engulfs each
of the proper songs here, with the exception of the Hawaiian/exotica-flavored
"At Sea." The rest of the cuts are literally drowning in reverb, big
Duane Eddy-style guitar twang, and sometimes a string section that hearkens
back to the early 1960s and
Roy Orbison's tales of heartache. Schneider is no
Orbison when it comes to vocal chops; in fact, one reviewer likened his style
to
Ricky Nelson, who was not particularly gifted but didn't try to sing beyond
his abilities, maintaining an understated minimalist approach that allowed the
backing arrangements and instrumentalists provide the heft. There is also a
similarity here to early
Chris Isaak, an Orbison devotee who specialized in
songs of desire and disappointment with lots of reverb. But it all works
wonderfully, the high lonesome sound conjures a desolate loneliness borne by
lost love, failure, and diminished prospects, particularly explored on the last
vocal track "What Do It Mean." The proper songs are interspersed with
short audio snippets that attempt to give the effect of hearing the singer
introduced at various live events, which didn't really do anything for me, but
at least they're short. The same can't be said for the closing, 14-minute
instrumental track, "Time's Blur," which honestly I haven't listened
to in its entirety yet after reading many unfavorable descriptions about it in
the various reviews. The beginning portion I did hear sounded a bit like a
Brian Eno ambient soundscape, completely out of left field compared with the
rest of the disc. But all of that aside, the main songs here are strong, full
of sorrow, and wonderfully arranged and performed.
I bought this release on CD in part because the double vinyl
version was long sold out, but even if it were available I probably wouldn't
have bought it because my recent experience with current-artist vinyl is not
good. Good-sounding vinyl depends on how the music was recorded, who mastered
it, and where the vinyl is pressed. It's usually impossible to find out
information about recording or vinyl pressing for new releases, and most of the
mastering engineers I am not familiar with, so even knowing who they are
doesn't help. A few years ago I bought vinyl copies of new releases that I
really liked by Nicki Bluhm and Olden Yolk, and in both cases the vinyl was
disappointing, certainly not an improvement over the CD. I also considered
buying Kacey Musgraves' Golden Hour
on vinyl, but after reading the many negative reviews about how noisy the vinyl
was, I decided against it. The only recent vinyl release that I was satisfied
with was Moving Panoramas second album In
Two, which was pressed here in Austin at Gold Rush Vinyl. It's the only
thing I've heard from Gold Rush, so I don't yet know if their pressings are
consistently good, or if Moving Panoramas' shoegaze dream pop hides any
deficiencies in the pressing. In any case, I am not in any hurry to rush out
and buy vinyl copies from current artists unless I know more about how and
where they are sourced.
Do I Really Need This
record? In order to avoid being
typecast as an old fogie who only listens to music from his childhood, I have
to occasionally add new music to the collection. Fortunately, this release has
a very retro sound that pleases my throwback sensibilities, allowing me to give
the appearance of being open to the new while still firmly clutching to the
old. How could I refuse?
No comments:
Post a Comment