Bon Iver – For Emma, Forever Ago (Jagjagwar/4AD, 2007/2008)
Reclusively isolated in a North Wisconsin hunting cabin, Justin Vernon has, with ‘For Emma, Forever Ago’, crafted a genuinely beautiful, spare and simple work that is at once vulnerable, mythical and overwhelming. ‘For Emma…’ is an album that has been capturing the hearts and minds of bloggers for some time, having already been released twice in the United States. It’s not officially out in the UK until May, which is a shame given that it was recorded in the heart of winter, and seems far more appropriate for that season than for burgeoning sunshine. Luckily, it’s easily found on import CD, or streaming on various mp3 blogs, for which the Hype Machine website remains an invaluable resource. Vernon is also visiting the UK in the week of the album’s release to play some dates with Iron and Wine – a thoroughly mouth-watering prospect.
Vernon is a master of arrangement and textural variation. Whilst lesser artists would have settled for an elementary rhythmic template of strummed acoustic guitar, Vernon carefully adds layered vocals, murmuring electronics, both natural and processed reverb, and brilliantly orchestrated crescendos to create tension and drama. This helps him avoid many of the pitfalls associated with conventional singer-songwriters. ‘For Emma…’ is a collection of songs that not only restates the core values of song-writing as an art, but also expands them. So, whilst the natural acoustic of the hunting cabin room is frequently audible, imbuing this material with a hushed majesty, there’s also a profound grandeur too. The songs are both devastatingly intimate and appealingly outward-looking.
Accompanying himself with choral-style backing vocals, Vernon creates shifting textures of spectral voices and interjecting motifs. The use of electronic ambience is also remarkably subtle – Vernon somehow manages to integrate it completely with the natural timbre of the songs as they were recorded. Similarly, with the occasional use of percussion or even brass instruments, Vernon carefully constructs slow-burning crescendos that have a resounding impact, enhancing rather than undermining the languid elegance of his craft. The title track, for example, has elements of a marching band, but somehow seems far less earthy and predictable than such a description might suggest. Throughout, the instrumentation is always appreciably controlled – with the sparing rather than predominant involvement of distant drums or electric guitars which murmur rather than cackle.
Whilst there are transparent parallels between Bon Iver and Iron and Wine (the album’s title has notable kinship with Sam Beam’s strange manipulation of syntax), ‘For Emma…’ cannot so easily be connected with an American folk tradition. Sam Beam’s language captures much of the vastness of the American landscape and its literary tradition (indeed, Beam’s more epic moments are closer to Cormac McCarthy than any of his contemporaries). Although he often uses similar devices and vivid imagery, Vernon, frequently singing of love (whether it’s based on experience or not of course doesn’t really matter, but one gets the strong impression that there might well be a real Emma to whom these songs might be dedicated), seems more personal. There’s also a more kinship with drama than with traditional poetry or prose. He often delivers either in a fragile falsetto or an aggravated holler (reminiscent of TV On The Radio) that conjure a distinctly soulful quality. It makes the most straightforward song here, the concluding ‘Re: Stacks’ quietly heartbreaking. In fact, this song in particular reminds me of Alexis Taylor from Hot Chip’s solo material, sadly so far unheard by many.
From its opening line onwards, there’s a real mystery to ‘For Emma…’ that is completely captivating. ‘I am my mother’s only one’, sings Vernon, leaving a pregnant pause before claiming ‘but that’s enough’. It’s a striking way to begin a song, and the enigmatic poignancy is continued throughout, in a way that seems wistful and homespun on one hand, but also odd, otherworldly and spiritual on the other. ‘Re: Stacks’ again is particularly moving in this regard: ‘There’s a black crow sitting across from me, his wiry legs are crossed/He’s dangling my keys, he even fakes a toss/Whatever could it be that has brought me to this loss?’. Yet, somehow, it all ends on a sublime and positive note: ‘This is not the sound of a new man or a crispy realisation/It’s the sound of the unlocking and the lift away/Your love will be/Safe with me’. Either love has been lost, but the memory lingers securely, or love has been found anew – the precise meaning is unclear.
Vernon has shown deft skill and talent in creating a work that sounds so open and intense, but also leaves questions hanging with intriguing ambiguity. It’s a set of songs to live with and live inside, a record to experience as well as hear.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Pseudo-Intellectual Posturing?
Stephen Malkmus and The Jicks - Real Emotional Trash (Domino, 2008)
I’ve struggled a little with Stephen Malkmus’ solo material. This may say more about me than him, in that he has gradually abandoned many of the qualities I admired most about Pavement – their ramshackle, twitchy, scatty sound, the emphasis on verbose, quirky lyrics and their unusual but strangely infectious melodies. His first album had some delightful moments, but mostly sounded like a diluted version of an established formula, following which he took a couple of peculiar left-turns with classic rock on ‘Pig Lib’ and quirky folk on ‘Face The Truth’. With a new version of The Jicks in tow (featuring a dependably thunderous Janet Weiss on drums), Malkmus now returns to the characteristics that dominated ‘Pig Lib’. There are long meandering solos, syncopated rhythms, numerous time signature changes, and some squalling classic rock jamming.
Musical extrapolation is not something I generally have a problem with – indeed, as a jazz enthuasiast, I often find extemporising thrilling and inspiring. The problem here though, is that it often serves to obfuscate Malkmus’ talents as a writer. I come away from most of the tracks here unable to recall vocal lines or lyrics (many of which could be memorable in more concise contexts). More often than not, the long guitar solos seem to have very little to say – and offer little emotional expression. I feel much the same way about the improvising here as I do about Neil Young’s playing in live performance. Many love his technically limited attacks on two or three notes of his guitar, but I find they get tiresome and repetitive very quickly, and undermine the quality of his melodies. Unfortunately, in the case of ‘Real Emotional Trash’, I wonder whether the quality of the compositions can even withstand the kind of treatment metered out here.
The presence of Weiss is crucial – she turns this into Malkmus’ most aggressive and assertive solo album to date. The drumming is driving and exploratory, even on songs taken at relatively sedate tempos. It’s far more interesting than the guitar noodling that all too frequently threatens to smother it. She also provides striking dynamic contrasts, particularly on the bizarre ‘Hopscotch Willie’ and the lengthy title track, which most other rock drummers would not have the awareness or skill to execute. ‘Hopscotch Willie’ is typical of the ponderous demeanour of the album as a whole though – it veers between coruscating and tepid passages, without really ever fulfilling its undoubted potential.
‘Cold Son’ has one of Malkmus’ deceptively simple choruses that wouldn’t sound out of place on ‘Wowee Zowee’, but it’s in search of a decent melody for the rest of the song. Also, whilst ‘Wowee Zowee’-era Pavement always sounded perilously on the verge of internal combustion – the Jicks sound like a band merely content to flex their musical muscles in lieu of any real intensity. Pavement had a unique sound that made them brilliantly contemporary, but ‘Real Emotional Trash’ frequently sounds tied to rather tired 1970s influences (hear the plodding piano on the first section of the title track for example). Ultimately, this sounds like music that was really fun to make, but has resulted in something that’s rather frustrating for the listener. The title track has a really rather beautiful coda that follows several minutes of directionless posturing. So much more could have been made from it!
On the closing ‘Wicked Wanda’, Malmus advises of the need to ‘break out of your core category’, and this appears to be what he is attempting to achieve for himself. I admire Malkmus for veering away from his established template and experimenting with different ideas, but I just can’t see ‘Real Emotional Trash’ becoming an album to which I might ever have an ardent desire to return. I’d rather nostalgically delve back to ‘Stereo’, ‘Shady Lane’, ‘We Dance’, ‘Silent Kid’, ‘Here’ or even ‘Carrot Rope’, and that poses something of a problem.
I’ve struggled a little with Stephen Malkmus’ solo material. This may say more about me than him, in that he has gradually abandoned many of the qualities I admired most about Pavement – their ramshackle, twitchy, scatty sound, the emphasis on verbose, quirky lyrics and their unusual but strangely infectious melodies. His first album had some delightful moments, but mostly sounded like a diluted version of an established formula, following which he took a couple of peculiar left-turns with classic rock on ‘Pig Lib’ and quirky folk on ‘Face The Truth’. With a new version of The Jicks in tow (featuring a dependably thunderous Janet Weiss on drums), Malkmus now returns to the characteristics that dominated ‘Pig Lib’. There are long meandering solos, syncopated rhythms, numerous time signature changes, and some squalling classic rock jamming.
Musical extrapolation is not something I generally have a problem with – indeed, as a jazz enthuasiast, I often find extemporising thrilling and inspiring. The problem here though, is that it often serves to obfuscate Malkmus’ talents as a writer. I come away from most of the tracks here unable to recall vocal lines or lyrics (many of which could be memorable in more concise contexts). More often than not, the long guitar solos seem to have very little to say – and offer little emotional expression. I feel much the same way about the improvising here as I do about Neil Young’s playing in live performance. Many love his technically limited attacks on two or three notes of his guitar, but I find they get tiresome and repetitive very quickly, and undermine the quality of his melodies. Unfortunately, in the case of ‘Real Emotional Trash’, I wonder whether the quality of the compositions can even withstand the kind of treatment metered out here.
The presence of Weiss is crucial – she turns this into Malkmus’ most aggressive and assertive solo album to date. The drumming is driving and exploratory, even on songs taken at relatively sedate tempos. It’s far more interesting than the guitar noodling that all too frequently threatens to smother it. She also provides striking dynamic contrasts, particularly on the bizarre ‘Hopscotch Willie’ and the lengthy title track, which most other rock drummers would not have the awareness or skill to execute. ‘Hopscotch Willie’ is typical of the ponderous demeanour of the album as a whole though – it veers between coruscating and tepid passages, without really ever fulfilling its undoubted potential.
‘Cold Son’ has one of Malkmus’ deceptively simple choruses that wouldn’t sound out of place on ‘Wowee Zowee’, but it’s in search of a decent melody for the rest of the song. Also, whilst ‘Wowee Zowee’-era Pavement always sounded perilously on the verge of internal combustion – the Jicks sound like a band merely content to flex their musical muscles in lieu of any real intensity. Pavement had a unique sound that made them brilliantly contemporary, but ‘Real Emotional Trash’ frequently sounds tied to rather tired 1970s influences (hear the plodding piano on the first section of the title track for example). Ultimately, this sounds like music that was really fun to make, but has resulted in something that’s rather frustrating for the listener. The title track has a really rather beautiful coda that follows several minutes of directionless posturing. So much more could have been made from it!
On the closing ‘Wicked Wanda’, Malmus advises of the need to ‘break out of your core category’, and this appears to be what he is attempting to achieve for himself. I admire Malkmus for veering away from his established template and experimenting with different ideas, but I just can’t see ‘Real Emotional Trash’ becoming an album to which I might ever have an ardent desire to return. I’d rather nostalgically delve back to ‘Stereo’, ‘Shady Lane’, ‘We Dance’, ‘Silent Kid’, ‘Here’ or even ‘Carrot Rope’, and that poses something of a problem.
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