March 1, 2012
Review: Damien Jurado – ‘Maraqopa’
Damien Jurado – Maraqopa
Secretly Canadian
Damien Jurado has never been short of competition in the field of Oregon folky-types, having to find his own space between bands like The Shins and The Fleets (to call the Fleet Foxes by their correct ’90s Britpop name). A string of albums and EPs from 1995 onwards saw the reclusive singer-songwriter establish a very personable and intimate performance style — one that sauntered through heartland rock during a three-year spell with Sub Pop before returning to the acoustic folk of his roots. Now he returns with Maraqopa; a more in-depth exploration of the genre’s past that shows a maturing performer not afraid to skirt the fringes of experimentation.
All of this perhaps makes it even more disappointing, then, that by the time the kitsch “doo doo da doo”s of ‘This Time Next Year’ have given way to the song’s whimsical tropidelica-folk stylings, much of Maraqopa’s early promise has evaporated. The tracks’s direct precedents saw Jurado on an enjoyably nostalgic trip down America’s west coast during the tail end of the ’60s, taking in the psych-folk of CSNY’s Déjà Vu (‘Nothing Is In the News’) and that of the rest of the Laurel Canyon crew (the fantastic ‘Life Away From The Garden’, ‘Maraqopa’).
The album’s subsequent nosedive is all the more surprising when considering that Jurado’s last effort, 2010’s stark triumph Saint Bartlett, was constructed from the same building blocks as this. Producer/performer Richard Swift is again at the controls, and the chemistry between the two can’t help but show itself on tracks like the magisterial ‘Reel To Reel’; a swirl of vibrato keys and tinkling xylophones over a Wrecking Crew beat and all soaked in the rain of the pair’s Pacific Northwest. But outside of its briefly attractive moments, Maraqopa is a collaboration that largely fails — a nonplussed sigh of an album, if you will.
There is very little of Saint Bartlett’s raw immediacy; nothing of the wearied splendour of ‘With Lightning In Your Hands’; no sign of the despondent, Neil Young ditch trilogy-type resignation that ran through ‘Rachel And Cali’. ‘Working Titles’ is a self-deprecating bit of introspection in triple time, its ’50s doo-wop group chorus harmonies elevating an otherwise mediocre arrangement, while there really is no excusing the run of second-rate acoustic workouts that constitutes the final four tracks. From twee throwaway ‘Everyone A Star’ to the barefaced filler of ‘Museum Of Flight’, they form a thick slab of schmaltzy wallpaper that culminates in closer ‘Mountains Still Asleep’’s trudging country-folk.
To give him his dues, Jurado has created what might be considered a progressive follow up to the finest moment of his 17-year career: an album that shows both range and an adeptness with pastiche. Yet it’s ultimately a swing-and-a-miss, one not rescued by brief moments of interest and fleeting glimpses of Jurado’s unquestionably strong songwriting ability.
Read this review in context over at THE STOOL PIGEON
January 25, 2012
Review: Porcelain Raft – ‘Strange Weekend’
Porcelain Raft – Strange Weekend
Secretly Canadian
There’s no escaping it: it’s 2012, and we are living in a post-chillwave society. We all suffered its infectious smog of synths; its occasional gem and its never-ending knock-offs; its knowing glances towards ‘70s AOR and over-abuse of tape compression; and we all survived. Yet now we must deal with its aftermath, and, straight off the bat for the New Year, here’s Porcelain Raft.
Mauro Remiddi’s one-man band project may be familiar to those who got hold of 2010 blog favourite ‘Tip of Your Tongue’ (endearingly phrased “teep of your tonne” in Remiddi’s pan-European accent), and now Porcelain Raft return with a full-length debut that pulls from the hundreds of demos and travel-inspired ditties penned by its creator, whittling them down into a lean 35 minutes entitled Strange Weekend.
The Porcelain Raft vibe is definitively airy (indeed Air-y on occasion). Remiddi’s androgynous Elizabeth Fraser-type vocal style seems intentionally detached and off on travels of its own, while sepia toned arrangements swim beneath it. We’re definitely dealing with the ‘dream-pop’ (bleurgh) end of the chillwave spectrum, which is a shame, because there are some pretty decent tunes hidden under the reverb.
There is certainly a wide variety of range here in song writing approach, from pleasant acoustic strum (‘Shapeless & Gone’, ‘Put me to Sleep’) to peppy electro-pop (‘Is It Too Deep for You?’). ‘Backwords’ cranks up the sentimental schmaltz levels, revisited on closer ‘The Way In’, but it’s the pastiche collage of ‘The End of Silence’ that really impresses. Emotive washes of vocal sit resplendently atop a mid-tempo Spector girl group beat; the Cocteau Twins returning once again to cast their influence over everything in-between.
As alluded to above, the Italian-born Remiddi is well travelled, and the sense of movement on Strange Weekend is strong from the off: this is music to listen to while gazing from a train window. He plays on the emotion of motion, without the usual signifiers of fast tempos or pulsing, driving rhythms. Opener ‘Drifting in and Out’ is perhaps the best example of this; phasing in like a horizon coming into view and referring – lyrically and musically – to escape and the freedom afforded by constant movement.
Remiddi has more to offer than the average reverb-laden bedroom artist, and tracks like ‘Picture’ – by far the catchiest thing here – prove he has a more than decent pop song in him if he could only tone down the washed out production style of Washed Out et al. Strange Weekend is an adequate stopgap in the meantime.
Read this review in context over at THE STOOL PIGEON
Essentially Eclectic 