Woven Hand - "Mosaic" (Glitterhouse 2006)

David Eugene Edwards is perhaps the most iconoclastic musician working in popular music today. 16 Horsepower, his previous project, began as an alt.country exploration of Appalachian folk and country with Edwards' use of dramatic, heavily Christian themed lyrics lending it an air of authenticity lacking in most other bands mining the same vein then or since. By Secret South, the bands third record, Edwards had taken the band in a more experimental direction, and the lackluster Folklore, 16 Horsepower's final release, half-heartedly continued this trend. The disappointment of Folklore can likely be attributed to the fact that, by the time the album was being recorded, Edwards was pouring his creative energy into Woven Hand (16 Horsepower is the only band I've heard of citing "political and religious differences" as the reason for their breakup). In spite of giving the impression that there's a functioning band at work Woven Hand is, quite simply, what Edwards is calling his solo work (all I know about the provenance of the name is that it's a really obscure Bible reference - you'll have to look elsewhere for chapter and verse). Working as a solo artist has given Edwards the freedom to more deeply explore experimental song structures and instrumentation and deep, heavily Christian themes of sin and redemption.

With each release Woven Hand has strayed farther and farther from Edwards' unerring pop sensibility and into experimental realms, pulling influences from Middle Eastern, American Indian, and Eastern European musical instrumentation and structures (among others less prevalent). His dark vision of the sinful path, reflected in the music and lyrics, and humanity's one and only source of redemption has become more and more apparent and increasingly fundamentalist in spite of his use of arcane biblical references to spin his tales. So much so that it can make a committedly non-religious person like myself uncomfortable.

Mosaic, Woven Hand's fourth release, builds on this trend and takes Edward's music farther afield than any release yet. From the ominous, sparse instrumental opener "Breathing Bull", which seamlessly transitions into the heavily Middle Eastern influenced Bible beater "Winter Shaker", you know you've entered David Eugene Edwards' universe and you're in for a soul tempering wild ride. These songs eschew any traditional song structures for the most part and focus on mood and intensity, both of which are unbelievably heavy. The mood is almost relentlessly dark, focusing on sin and the failure to abide God's word. The lyrics always mention the path to redemption in some form or other but also stress the fact that, in this vision, anyway, the way is so hard it's damn near impossible to follow without constant, severe diligence and unquestioning faith.

The instrumentation on this record includes, and I'm guessing on some of these, guitar, banjo, piano, violin, organ, bass, standard drums, tympani drums, guiro, sorna, chemnitzer concertina, and, I'm pretty sure, didgeridoo. The tympani, concertina and didgeridoo maintain a constant low end drone on almost every track, lending the songs the ominous quality that has almost become signature for Edwards work. The guitar, where it appears, serves as both a rhythm and melody instrument - especially apparent on "Truly Golden", one of the more accessible songs on the record. The organ serves a similar purpose, alternately contributing to the ominous background wall and serving as a cathedral like melody instrument. Violin and sorna are reserved for song melody and contribute heavily, along with much of the percussion, to the pervasive Middle Eastern feel of the record.

Relief from the overwhelming Christian thematics appears in "Swedish Purse", which lyrically suggests it is a love song to Edwards' wife. Don't let the fact that it's a love song lead you to believe that you get a break from the overall sonic darkness - that remains heavy as hell (no pun intended). There is a break from the doom laden musical bent in "Bible and Bird" - a loping, country/folk instrumental in a standard 4/4 time signature. As this is the only song with musicians other than Edwards credited it makes a kind of sense that it would be the most traditionally structured piece - good luck to the most experienced musician trying to follow the logic of almost any other song on the record.

I'd be remiss if I didn't mention production. Edwards is credited as producer (as he has been on every Woven Hand release) and his production is, as you have probably gathered, a dark, dense, wall of sound with very little open range. While this would be too much for many recordings it works pretty effectively considering what Edward is communicating here and often places the songs in a geographic context.

Mosaic is not a good starter album for the casual listener - hard-core fans only and those drawn to the esoteric (and perhaps some world music afficianados) will appreciate what's going on here. A good place to begin with Edwards is any of the first three 16 Horsepower records (Sackcloth & Ashes, Low Estate, and Secret South) or even the eponymously titled first Woven Hand record will do - Edwards natural ability with pop structures and hooks married to relatively unusual instrumentation will give you a good foundation from which to continue.

As a long-time and devoted fan I think this record is a knock-out. Edwards is without a doubt one of the most creative and unusual musicians out there, and the farther out he goes the more I seem to like it. The allure of the music and the poetic nature of the lyrics is strong enough to shield me from the discomfort of the heavy-handed Christian thematics. I'll venture to say the same will be true for the majority of listeners. It helps that I respect Edwards' beliefs even if I don't agree with them.

Edwards is an admitted fan of Nick Cave (as am I) and the similarities still show through his experimentation. I would say he's the light in response to Nick Cave's darkness, but there's plenty of darkness here. Let's say instead that, while Cave's songs are almost universally existential and hopeless, Edwards provides his listeners with at least a single strand of hope. I'll leave it up to you to decide which is better.

Rating: 4 out of 4

Wilco - "Sky Blue Sky" (Nonesuch 2007)

I talked some in my review of The Drams Jubilee Dive of following certain artists through stylistic changes successfully because they retain that certain essential something that makes them them. Jeff Tweedy is an artist that has managed this masterfully. There are no two Wilco records that sound the same, but you can recognize a Wilco record when you hear it whether or not you've heard it before. This isn't easy to accomplish, and it's no less impressive considering the wide ranging experimentation Wilco has indulged in over their past three records.

Sky Blue Sky has been touted as Wilco's "return to form". I'm not sure what "form" it is being discussed here, as Wilco has never exhibited a consistency that I would say pidgeon-holed them. A.M.? Being There? While these two early records definitely harken back to the country rock/alt.country of Tweedy's former project Uncle Tupelo, they are still departures from that band's sound, and each is a departure from the sound of the other. I'll agree that A.M. and Being There are closer stylistically that any other two Wilco records, but Being There represents a definite step in a new direction that presages the revolutionary changes to come. With Wilco there's no "form" to return to. There's only forward motion, for better or worse.

Sky Blue Sky does nothing to buck this trend. The audial experimentation of Summerteeth, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and A Ghost is Born is hardly present at all in Wilco's latest offering. In much the way Summerteeth owed quite a bit of its sound and spirit to Brian Wilson's more experimental production work, Sky Blue Sky owes a considerable debt to mellow 70's songsters like Paul McCartney and, yes, even James Taylor. This is most evident in the Wings-esque "Shake It Off" and the more McCartney on his own inspired "Walken". The James Taylor reference comes more of the overall feel of the record rather than any specific sonic similarities. There are other comparisons to be made, but let's just leave it at the fact that this record sounds a lot like a mellow, mid-70's album.

That, of course, is not the end of the story. Tweedy's predilection for experimentation pops up in places, most notably in the outro to "Side With the Seeds", a turn almost ruined by the self-indulgent guitar solo that crashes into it. A similar sort of guitar histrionics shows up in "You Are My Face". This kind of instrumentation works to great effect in a song like "At Least That's What You Said" from A Ghost is Born, in which the guitar takes over from the vocals in expressing the violence of an argument between two people in the second half of the piece. Given the overall lower key feeling of Sky Blue Sky it just sounds out of place.

Looking back over this it reads like a negative review (especially if you hold mainstream 70's music in the same contempt that I do) which is hardly the case. Remember that McCartney's a master at crafting a pop song and making sure it's produced in such a way that serves the song well. The same can be said of James Taylor. You don't have to like their music, but in the construction they knew what the hell they were doing. In spades. This record may sound like it was produced in the 70's for a soft rock audience, but the production suits this set of songs very well, and there's not a bad one among them. Tweedy is a remarkably powerful songwriter, and he continues to prove it on this record. Sky Blue Sky has been described by some as "boring". While there is a noticable absence of existential and emotional angst that has characterized much of his previous work, it's not "boring". Rather it seems the ruminations of a man who's finally laid many of his demons to rest, and these stories are certainly good for some pop gems. Towards the end of the record "What Light" and "On and On and On" jump out and grab you with both hands.

The final track of the record is "Let's Not Get Carried Away", a blast of Tattoo You era Rolling Stones inspired rock 'n' roll. While Tattoo You may have come out in 1981, I still consider it the coda of 1970's mainstream rock. What perfect inspiration to end Sky Blue Sky.

Rating: 3 out of 4

Those Poor Bastards - "Songs of Desperation" (Gravewax Records 2005)

I pissed off a lot of people on Amazon.com for my brief review of this record. I don't really care. I stand by that review and will expand on it here.

Those Poor Bastards have been described as "old time Gothic Country", "sounding like they were recorded in the 1930's on broken equipment", "the background music for themes of sold souls, empty lives, and certain death", a "miserable, primitive duo", and as displaying "hints of Marilyn Manson to Nick Cave, Throwrag and maybe even a hint of a demented Adam Ant with a shot of pilled up Johnny Cash". In addition to the bands named above, they are also compared to Tom Waits, The Cramps, and The Louvin Brothers. I gathered all this from their website.

When I first heard of these guys I thought, "Wow! That sounds awesome!". I'm a huge fan of the darker side of country music, low-fi production when it makes sense, creepy rural American gothicism, apocalyptic themes, and an uncompromising anti-corporate stance. I'm so fucked in the head that I have to take three kinds of psychiatric medication or else the only reason I can find to get out of bed is to try and kill myself - I have a predilection for bleak, depressing music. I love (probably unhealthily so) music that focuses on loss, despair, hopelessness, and failed redemption. This band had everything in place for me to love 'em. So what went wrong?

Well, first of all, they don't sound like they "were recorded in the 1930's on broken down equipment". They sound like they were recorded in the 2000's and used a bunch of tricks to make them sound like they were recorded in the 1930's on broken down equipment. So much so that it's overbearing. Far be it from me to criticise low-fi studio trickery, but there's a point past which such production quits serving the material and starts sounding like a couple of guys fucking around with a 4-track to see how many weird sounds they can get out of it. That "old-timey" sound shouldn't be so distracting that it's easier to get annoyed than enjoy what's happening in the music. Those old Edison tubes don't sound like shit because the people who recorded them wanted them to. Aspiring to reproduce their sound is ridiculous. That's not to say low-fi and studio weirdness can't be used to remarkable effect. Once Lou Barlow got it down he became a master at it, particularly with Folk Implosion. Even with Sebadoh, who I never liked, the songs at least sound cool. The Grifters are another one that sounded great using this kind of production. Burying the songs in a bunch of clearly contrived tape hiss, distortion, muddiness, and other gimmicks makes me wonder what a band is trying to cover up. In this case, unfortunately, it's the songs themselves.

Let's look at the comparisons made:

Marilyn Manson sucks. Period. There's nothing musical going on there - it's all gimmick. There's a place for it, certainly, and Marilyn has an illustrious string of predecessors. All of whom, actually, had a lot more going on musically than Mr. Manson. The comparison works in that way - Those Poor Bastards seem to me to be more about the gimmick than the music also. Style over substance has been the norm in American culture for at least the last half century, so TPB are hardly breaking ground in that regard. Neither is Marilyn Manson.

Nick Cave. A fucking genius. While he may be Australian he certainly did his research into the kind of American back woods mythology that fascinates the listener while making them squirm. His voice alone wrings powerful emotion out of his bleak, existential lyrics causing us to identify with his twisted characters while simultaneously being repelled by them. Just listen to "Mercy Seat". He crafts moody, ominous music to reinforce this, and almost always succeeds in creating a song in which the music and vocals intertwine to paint a compelling, layered and emotional audial picture. Those Poor Bastards lyrics sound, frankly, like a bunch of Goth kids hanging around a graveyard trying to out-Goth one another. Or a couple of guys passing a bong back and forth asking each other, "What's the creepiest thing you can think of?". They're so over the top that they venture into self-parody. When placed in the context of the contrived, scratchy, "old-timey" production it just becomes ludicrous. Lefty Frizzell wrote a simple, creepy, honest to God death song that's ten times better than anything on "Songs of Desperation". It's called "The Long Black Veil". Somebody should give these guys a copy.

Throwrag - no idea. Never heard 'em so I can't comment. If they sound like Those Poor Bastards, though, I doubt I'd like 'em.

Adam Ant - ?!?

Pilled up Johnny Cash - Johnny Cash, pilled up or not, had infinitely better ideas about death, loss, pain, redemption, the unredeemable, and a myriad of other forces at work in the human condition than these guys. I don't recall a single Cash record, even from his pilled up days, that droned on song after song about a bunch of disingenuously freaky, morbid, self reflexively weird crap.

Tom Waits. Another fucking genius. His songs, largely created with unusual, old instruments and found items, carry on a tradition begun by Kurt Weill and The Threepenny Opera. It pulls in a healthy dose of Vaudeville through a Fellini-esque filter. Lyrically his songs span points of view from the down on his luck lounge lizard on the underside of skid row to the frantic, stream of conscious ramblings of a chain gang escapee making his way through some rural hell. He delivers all this with a voice that sounds like Louis Armstrong after a six month crawl through gin mills and heroin flops while smoking five packs of cigarettes a day. Waits admits that his persona is a character he invented, but he pulls it off so well that one never feels shammed or that Waits is delivering something contrived or insincere. This is a lesson Those Poor Bastards would be wise to take.

The Cramps. I love The Cramps. They're a cartoon band. There's nothing the least bit serious about them and they don't try to pretend there is. They're also a shitload of fun, both on record and live. The closest Those Poor Bastards come to The Cramps is Lonesome Wyatt's voice sounds a lot like Lux Interior's.

The Louvin Brothers. Ira and Charlie Louvin made country songs based in Appalachian folk and Gospel music. While they wrote songs of a secular nature also, their hearts were very much in redeeming people's souls through music. When they put out "Satan is Real" (as gimmicky as it looks today) it wasn't a gimmick. They meant it and they wanted to save your soul. Whatever you think of their message or how they presented it there's one thing for certain - the Louvins were very sincere about it. There is nothing on "Songs of Desperation" that sounds the least bit sincere to me. But I think I've covered that opinion quite thoroughly already.

It boils down to this - if I knew that this band was being ironic I might be more inclined to enjoy them. I hope to God they're chrortling at the idea of anybody taking this stuff seriously while they're recording it. It would make a lot more sense and might even make the music listenable.

If you're interested in intense, dark, apocalyptic, Appalachian gothic type stuff you should check out anything by David Eugene Edwards (16 Horsepower, Woven Hand). His music has all the elements that Those Poor Bastards seem to be striving for, but does it a hell of a lot better. It doesn't hurt that he's a true believer in the evangelical sense. If you don't work your ass off for salvation, boy, you ARE going to hell. I don't for one second entertain the idea that he's right about this, but he's deadly serious about it. That alone makes his music infinitely more entertaining than "Songs of Desperation".

Those Poor Bastards are playing with Hank III (one of their biggest supporters) here in Austin on Jan. 5th 2008. Maybe they'll somehow hear about this review and find me and kick my ass. There would certainly be something sincere in that.

Rating: 1 out of 4