The Winding Sheet (1990)

6.5

Mockingbirds / Museum / Undertow / Ugly Sunday / Down in the Dark / Wild Flowers / Eyes of a Child / The Winding Sheet / Woe / Ten Feet Tall / Where Did You Sleep Last Night / Juarez / I Love You Little Girl

Formerly known as the front man of The Screaming Trees, the only criminally underrated band of the Big Five of Grunge (Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden and Alice in Chains complete the picture), Mark Lanegan's stature as a musician is nowadays mainly based on his incomparable graveyard growl and poker-faced expression. Although his current membership of the terrific QOTSA-club might lead you to believe he attracts decibels like a stray dog attracts fleas, and that he is only involved in the heavy sound and barren atmosphere of the sun-drenched Arizona desert, his solo efforts are something decidedly different. The Winding Sheet, recorded in between The Trees’ last SST-album (Buzz Factory) and the band’s first major label album (the commercial failure Uncle Anesthesia), is a far cry from the psychedelic-tinged hard rock-meets-garage of those albums, and betrays more affinities with rustic folk, country blues (although not stylistically, it certainly oozes out that special atmosphere) and little bits of country. Unsurprisingly it’s not the kind of folk that backs up socio-critical rants or the kind that’s set out to entertain you. Nearly the entire record conveys a sense of melancholy, brooding tension and bleak restraint. Indeed, it’s an album that’ll make you close the curtains, reach for a bottle of liquor and a pack of cigarettes. OK, that’s clichéd, but name me three artists that convey the same late night atmosphere and I buy you a beer.

Several of the songs are quite alcohol-soaked (a recurring aspect, considering the next album’s title and the fact that his site is called One Whiskey) whether it’s in the excellent drone of “Ugly Sunday” (“I’m drunk half blind”), that could go on for ten minutes and you’d still be wanting more, or the country blues of “Woe” (“I’d rather be drunk than dead”). Sins and redemption, jealousy and loss are themes that make up the other tracks. The dark opening track “Mockingbirds” evokes a drizzly melancholic atmosphere on the verge of sliding into threatening doom (it’s certainly something special hearing him sing “You can’t kill what’s already dead”), similar to Nick Cave’s obsession with murder ballads and the gloomy side of love. Another highlight, although eclipsed by the stunning Nirvana-version on their Unplugged-album, is a cover of Leadbelly’s “Where Did You Sleep Last Night” (to which Cobain and Novoselic actually contributed). There are some more captivating moments here, for instance “Down in the Dark” (probably the album’s only song that’s closer to rock than acoustic folk), or the fitting falsetto backing vocals of the downhearted “Wildflowers”, and the careening title song that benefits from Mike Johnson’s (a steady Lanegan-collaborator) rock solid contributions on guitar. However, not all the songs on the album are as successful, despite the fact that they do uphold the homogenous mood. “Museum” and the slightly more up-tempo “Ten Feet Tall” certainly benefit from Lanegan’s passionate singing style, but run a bit short on ideas, while also “Eyes of a Child,” “Undertown” and the sparse album closer “I Love You Little Girl” are a bit too simple and underdeveloped for their own good. But before you start thinking I don’t like this album all that much, let me repeat that apart from “Juarez” there are hardly any bad songs on The Winding Sheet. It’s just that Lanegan and Johnson’s collaborations would grow more fully realized on the subsequent albums that would always maintain this album’s starch ambiance, while adding more variation and consistency. It's certainly not an excellent effort, but The Winding Sheet proved nevertheless that Lanegan might be able to pull it off on his own.

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Whiskey for the Holy Ghost (1994)

8

The River Rise / Borracho / House a Home / Kingdoms of Rain / Carnival / Riding the Nightingale / El Sol / Dead on You / Shooting Gallery / Sunrise / Pendulum / Judas Touch / Beggar’s Blues

It took Lanegan four years to come up with a follow-up to his flawed but promising debut album, and it was certainly worth the wait. You might not even have expected him to come up with a new solo album, since The Screaming Trees had become somewhat of a household name in the wake of the successful Singles-movie/soundtrack and the band’s terrific album Sweet Oblivion (1992). Anyway, Lanegan did write a bunch of new songs, and again chose Johnson as his main collaborator and brought some other musicians (Tad Doyle, J. Mascis, Dan Peters, etc) along to contribute to this album that’s quite an improvement over The Winding Sheet. This collection offers more variety, subtler arrangements and ideas, and a much better sound in particular. Without disrupting the flow of the album, touches of violin, organ and even saxophone are added to the usually dark mixture of folk and blues. More than that, however, it’s the man’s vocals that steal the show this time around. Sweet Oblivion had already proven that Lanegan had become an amazing vocalist in a ‘rock’ context, but even in the specific context of these songs, his vocals distinguish him. Several of the songs don’t sound that traditional, but instead rely on repetitive riffs and drones, and it’s exactly there that Lanegan’s impassionate contributions set them apart.

The strength of his vocals seems to lie in the illusion that it sounds as if he’s improvising on the spot. During the hypnotic highlight “Riding the Nightingale,” for instance, his highly poetic lyrics (“Dyin' mama barely breathin' in a bed of nails, to wander through the ruin smokin' and pale”) don’t seem to be sung according to a rigid pattern of vocalising. Before that, the album opener “The River Rise” (the recurring melody of which sounds like the one Yo LA Tengo used for “The Crying of Lot G.”) had already made clear that his song-writing had grown and that he found an excellent partner in the guise of Johnson, who skilfully plays acoustic and electric guitars and organ. Other highlights include the warm and slow “Kingdoms of Rain,” which finds the singer in whisper-mode while nice touches of organ and backing vocals by Sloan Johnson (who?) turn it into an almost hauntingly beautiful piece of late night melancholy. Sounding closer to Lanegan’s latest releases (a fuller – more electric – sound that’s still not extravert in any way), also “Pendulum” should be called “The Chicken Skin Song,” containing such simple, but effective ingredients. Songs like “Dead on You” and “Shooting Gallery” thread on more familiar terrain, fitting in better in the ‘blues’ and ‘folk’ sections, but even these are little twinkling stars in the gloomy, desolate universe of Lanegan. Like I said above, several of these songs (“Carnival,” “Sunrise,” “Beggar’s Blues,” for instance) get their extra value from the restrained/brooding combination of content and package, as Lanegan delivers his stories of miserable (“Beauty wasted on me”) and lonely outcasts (“Swing pendulum, swing low, got no place to call my own”) that roam around never really arriving anywhere. Perhaps the album doesn’t contain tracks that immediately stand out from the pack such as “Mockingbirds” or “Where Did You Sleep Last Night,” but on a whole, Whiskey for the Holy Ghost is a marvellous exploration of his musical roots and beloved themes. It may not sound like blues or folk to some people’s ears, but in his own unique way, Lanegan has for the first time created an album that - at the core - is as blues and blue as it gets, making him one of the most unique proponents of the entire Seattle-scene. The good thing is, it would get even better...

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Scraps at Midnight (1998)

7.5

Hospital Roll Call / Hotel / Stay / Bell Black Ocean / Last One in the World / Wheels / Waiting on a Train / Day and Night / Praying Ground / Because of This

… but not yet. Recorded after a tumultuous last tour with The Screaming Trees and a drug addiction that had gotten more and more dramatic, Scraps at Midnight allegedly was Lanegan’s first clean album. It’s not that it’s a far cry from the first two albums, because just like those Scraps also offers a nearly gothic amalgam of folk and blues, of world-weariness and starch loneliness. There are, however, instances that suggest things have gotten better for the skinny guy with the golden voice: while it’s not hard to interpret some lyrics as afterthoughts to his drug-addiction (“Mornin’ comes, cold chills and shakes, just remindin’ me of my mistake,” he laconically mumbles in “Waiting on a Train”) or his otherwise troubled past (“What I did along the way, well I wouldn’t care to say”), there are also hints of a less fatalistic perspective. “Life’s not hard, it’s just not easy” and “You got to walk in the morning sun” are lines that would never have made it to any of the previous albums. The entire album sounds a bit more traditional and straightforward as well, betraying a bit more of a country-influence with less repetitive structures, in the process becoming his album that sounds the most like his albums with The Screaming Trees.

Still, despite the slightly more positive outlook on things, Lanegan’s albums should have a warning sticker on them, saying “No, happy person, get your kicks elsewhere” or something like that, as the twangy Morricone-guitar of “Hospital Roll Call” sets an uncanny neo-gothic atmosphere. While it can hardly be considered a “song” in the true sense of the word (with the only lyrics being a repeated “Sixteen”), it’s a nice introduction to the enigmatic and ethereal “Hotel” that’s another disillusioned introspection (“Everything inside is dead”). The album’s lead off single, “Stay,” is basically a beautiful love song that finds Lanegan in a surprisingly sentimental mood. The same goes for “Last One in the World,” his farewell to a friend. Besides the wonderfully dreamy atmosphere, his vocals (nearly a broken whisper) turn it into an as yet unseen emotional highlight (and quite a contrast with the earlier contempt for life and other people). “Wheels,” featuring contributions from J. Mascis and Tad Doyle, and benefiting from the warm sounds of a saxophone, is another remarkable track, as is the gothic folk of “Praying Ground,” another song that in a way combines the styles and universes of Nick Cave, Leonard Cohen and David Eugene Edwards. The resonating guitars, simple piano melody and brushed drums are kept minimal, prevent it from becoming self-indulgent, and once again the harmony between the music and lyrics is successful. That’s also exactly where the album’s “weakness” (well, not really a weakness, just something I invented on the spot) lies. While the barren atmosphere is sustained throughout the album, there are a few songs that I like exactly because of that atmosphere, which made me overlook the fact that they’re basically not that strong. The creepy crawl of “Day and Night,” for instance, is effective, and the use of harmonica is a nice touch, but the song can hardly be called a winner. “Bell Black Blues” in which Lanegan evokes fond memories, is a nice example of his voice at its smokiest and once again reminds of the Cohen/Waits/Cave-comparison, but that’s exactly its main appeal. All these songs are good additions to the Lanegan-catalogue, but they don’t offer anything Whiskey for the Holy Ghost didn’t offer before. Scraps at Midnight is a bit of a stagnation, but offers its share of excellent songs. Ironically, Lanegan would refresh his music a bit more with an all-cover album.

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I’ll Take Care of You (1999)

9.5

Carry Home / I’ll Take Care of You / Shiloh Town / Creeping Coastline of Lights / Badi-Da / Consider Me / On Jesus’ Program / Little Sadie / Together Again / Shanty Man’s Life / Boogie Boogie

Jeffrey Lee Pierce, Brook Benton, Tim Hardin, James Arthur Moreland, Fred Neil, Eddie Floyd & Booker T. Jones, Overton Vertis Wright, Buck Owens, Stephen Harrison Paulus, Tim Rose. Those are the songwriters Lanegan chose to pick songs from (“Little Sadie” being the only traditional). That’s right, I’ll Take Care of You is an all-covers album and, interestingly, it doesn’t gather songs from the most obvious sources (Dylan, Woody Guthrie, Johnny Cash, etc). Admittedly, Tim Hardin and Fred Neil still have some sort of cult reputation goin’ for them, and Brook Benton and Buck Owens are more than just footnotes in 20th century popular music, but Tim Rose and S.H. Paulus? And soul performers Eddie “Knock on Wood” Floyd and O.V. Wright aren’t exactly names you’d expect on a Lanegan album either, would you? While most of these songs are a few decades old, the exceptions are the opening track, written by the late Jeffrey Lee Pierce, former leader of The Gun Club and a personal friend of Lanegan, while James Moreland was a member of Leaving Trains, a guitar rock band that never escaped from the underground. Enough facts. As expected (or: keeping the three previous albums in mind), Lanegan doesn’t suddenly come up with a heavily ornamented batch of songs, the stress being on acoustic and muted electric guitar, subdued drum accents, piano, organ and occasional vibes and violin.

If anything, this might be one of the ultimate late night-albums. The broody combination of folk, blues, country and soul makes for the ideal counterpart to Lanegan’s tobacco- and whiskey-soaked vocals, while the themes of love & longing, religion, loneliness and death sustain an addicting atmosphere for 33 minutes. While songs like “Carry Home” and the traditional “Little Sadie” are entirely carried on by guitar and vocals, the presence of vibes during “I’ll Take Care of You” and “Creeping Coastline of Lights” lends the songs an ethereal quality that, in combination with Lanegan’s heartfelt vocals, leads to stunning results, with a contribution of Steve Berlin (Los Lobos) on flute topping things off during the first one. Some of the songs lean closer towards traditional folk, like the two chilling tales of desperation and loneliness, “Shiloh Town” and “Badi-Da.” While the yearning violin used during the former is a nice touch, Mark Hoyt’s backing vocals during “Badi-Da” are a great addition to Lanegan’s. The soul songs are proof that Lanegan also feels comfortable doing ballads about unconditional love, carefully avoiding becoming too syrupy. The vocal highlight of the album, however, might be his take on “On Jesus” Program”: while the song, like “Shanty Man’s Life,” starts off on a sinister note, Lanegan’s immensely passionate vocals and determination (“On Jesus’ Program, I know someday I’ll rise, on Jesus’ Program, to mansions in the sky, where I’ll be free to live on, to live on eternally”), backed by a subtle, repetitive drone, is truly baffling. Lanegan’s choice of songs is impressive (can’t turn turds into chocolate bars, can you?), but if there’s one thing that’s striking about this album, it must be that it sounds like a Mark Lanegan album with Lanegan doing Lanegan-songs. Like Johnny Cash, Lanegan seems to have the capacity of making other people’s songs his own, and not by rendering versions that are nearly alien to the originals (like, for instance, Mark Kozelek did with his take on a bunch of AC/DC-songs), but by keeping the mood, style and structure of the original, while giving you the idea he’s unearthed an extra dimension you didn’t even know existed at the same time. From the soothing ballads to the loner’s mutterings, Lanegan’s gathered 11 songs that are performed and fully unveiled by him. It’s an album that seems to convey more experience, wisdom, beauty and character into half an hour than you’d expect a 35-year old guy to be capable of, but he pulls off the unlikely. I’ll Take Care of You is an inspired & inspiring masterpiece.

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Field Songs (2001)

8.5

One Way Street / No Easy Action / Miracle / Pill Hill Serenade / Don't Forget Me / Kimiko's Dream House / Resurrection Song / Field Song / Low / Blues for D / She Done Too Much / Fix

A record I really had been looking forward to, Field Songs was everything that I wanted and more at the time. Nowadays, I'm no longer convinced it's one of the first classics of the 21st century, but it remains one of those albums I'll fondly treasure for forty more years or so. Even though Lanegan's solo output is often compared to that of other austere/poetic night bats like Nick Cave and Tom Waits, this sounds like an instantly likeable album to me. With the exception of a few songs on the albums second's half, most of these songs ooze out a comfortable sonic warmth that's quite a difference from the detached sound and structures of The Winding Sheet and Whiskey for the Holy Ghost. Several of these songs are indeed more conventional than most of the stuff he's done (except for the straightforward material on I'll Take Care of You), but please don't make the mistake of presuming it's an album to party to on Saturday night, because even though it opens with the gently swaying guitars and shuffling drums of "One Way Street," the vocals and lyrics soon add that typical Lanegan-dimension: "When I'm dressed in white / Send roses to me / I drink so much sour whiskey / I can't hardly see / And everywhere I've been / There's a well that howls my name / From the one tiny sting / To that vacant fame / Oh the deafening roar / Remember that's called a one way street / And you can't get Can't get it down without crying." His lyrics often evolve around life/death, meditations on mortality, dependence and faith, which wrapped up in that husky baritone are often lullabies that sound soothing but carry the weight of depression, pain, sadness and suffering. "No Easy Action" basically plays the same card ("When all is done and turned to dust / And insects nest inside my bones / I see I stagger in a daze outside my tent / No time for being alone / To bleed") but this time around it sounds unlike anything Lanegan ever recorded before. Propelled by a dominant mellotron and the backing vocals of Wendy Rae Fowler that sound like a combination of an Arabian love song and a Native-American chant, it seems out of place at first - mainly because of its 'rock' feel - but fits in with the less conventional material further down the album. These two tracks are definitely highlights, and so is "Don't Forget Me," a wonderful acoustic rock song that wraps up a story about parting ways and other cheerful stuff in an effective sheet of guitars (don't miss the beautiful Spanish-tinged solo there), gentle drums and piano. As on the covers-album, the arrangements are once again terrific, as Lanegan has once himself surrounded himself with a bunch of class: Mike Johnson and Soundgarden's Ben Shepherd (guitars, bass, lap steel, piano, etc) are the main collaborators, but there are also cameos by producer/Master of Reality Chris Goss, Duff McKagan, Brett Netson (who's still in Lanegan's touring band) and Martin Feveyear. They ensure that about half of the album is digestible and conventional enough even with your (grand)parents around. "One Way Street" and "Don't Forget Me" are likeable, but the potential crossover-appeal lies in ballads like the ballad "Pill Hill Serenade" (Hammond organ always does the job) and "Kimiko's Dream House," the striking result of the collaboration with the late great Jeffrey Lee Pierce. The album's second half is less likely to make an immediate impact, as the songs are less transparent and thrive as much on vocals as on arrangements, but repeated listens are guaranteed to make you discover a few gems. I've never been that fond of the brief title track with its desert-vibe and dissonant ending, but the trance-like "Resurrection Song" would've fit well on any of his earlier albums. It's the kind of simple tune that almost passes by unnoticed, but than has you stop, listen and shiver in awe. This is perhaps even more the case with the gospel-intensity of "Low," which contains Lanegan's best performance on this album - turning that weathered, Camel-sponsored voice into a mighty instrument. Almost as heavy (but not in the "my power chord is gonna kill you"-way) is the instrumental "Blues for D," co-written by Shepherd, but the album's closing mantra "Fix" ends the album in appropriate fashion (just like the similar "River Rise" kicked off Whiskey), repetitive, dark and brooding. With Field Songs, Lanegan didn't reinvent himself or anything (it wouldn't take long anymore until he'd actually try to change the approach, though), but I don't think that was the intention to start with. As it is, it's an excellent synthesis of the four earlier albums, combining warmth with detachment and visions of darkness with occasional brighter glimpses, whether they are to be found in the music or lyrics (if you dig deep enough). A suitable addition to that bottle of whiskey and pack of Marlboro.

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Here Comes That Weird Chill - Methamphetamine Blues, Extras & Oddities EP (2003)

7.5

Methamphetamine Blues / On the Steps of the Cathedral / Clear Spot / Message to Mine / Lexington Slow Down / Skeletal History / Wish You Well / Sleep with Me/Version

From the minimalist-industrial clang of opener "Methamphetamine Blues" onwards, it becomes clear pretty fast that these thirty minutes aren't exactly a continuation of Lanegan's five previous albums. Granted, none of his albums is particular cheerful and his voice hasn't changed or anything, but the modern chain-gang drag of the opener betrays a heavy, distorted rock sound (Mark gets fleas when he sleeps with the Queens), lifted to greater heights by his unmistakeable tombstone growl. It's closer to rock than anything before, maybe also to compensate for the break-up of the Screaming Trees and his half-creepy contributions to Songs for the Deaf a year earlier. The production is much more dense and noisy than on Field Songs, with instruments fighting over dominance, loops lending the whole some modern sleaze and backing vocals popping up almost randomly. The result is a semi-industrial slab of psychotic blues-rock and make no mistake, this time it sounds truly menacing as his "Wake up / Wake up / Children don't ya hear me comin'" will send the shivers down your spine, unless you're no longer the type that looks under the bed at night. "Skeletal History" actually tops "Blues" in the gut-department as a dark, feverish, macabre, drug-fueled beast about sex, perversion, death, with Lanegan spitting out lines like "Instead, girls stare in dead-eyed wonder / They can't walk with fallen soldiers / Used by cops who fucked inside abandoned boarding houses / Go on fast before the beast catches the bastard / Draggin' the chain down, down, down." It's dirty and creepy in its own right, but the masterful way in which Lanegan places his words arguably makes it the least comfortable song of 2003; a sick, growling fucker. The extraordinary sonic assault of these songs (well, compared to the previous material, that is) immediately sets them apart, which is also true in the case of "Clear Spot," a cover of the Captain Beefheart-song. While the live version I saw three years ago was nothing but a stunning freak-fest, this studio version is good and appropriately contorted, but somehow the dense, compressed production job also robs it a bit of its angular appeal. Still, as far as Beefheart-covers go, this one does the job for sure. The remainder of the album is less abrasive and mostly also less impressive. "Message to Mine" sounds vaguely familiar, like a mix of his solo works with the Screaming Trees-sound and a hummable anthemic chorus (and of course, you can't ignore the fact there are guest appearances by both Dean Ween and Belgian Aldo Struyf on organ/synth), while "Lexington Slow Down" and "Sleep with Me" (present in two versions, of which the first one is superior) are more traditional, the first one being a bare-boned piano ballad, the second an almost hypnotic, soulful drag wrapped up in his new sound. The EP definitely lives up to its title, so if we consider the above the "extras", then stuff like "On the Steps of the Cathedral," which ends before it's even started, and "Wish You Well" a song whose pretty melody is totally neutralized by a overly dense and sludgy arrangement, are definitely "extras". Here Comes That Weird Chill is definitely a frustratingly even affair and probably too long for a decent EP, but it did function as a smelly appetizer for his sixth album, which was exactly the intention.

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Bubblegum (2004)

8

When Your Number Isn't Up / Hit the City / Wedding Dress / Methamphetamine Blues / One Hundred Days / Bombed / Strange Religion / Sideways in Reverse / Come to Me / Like Little Willie John / Can't Come Down / Morning Glory Wine / Head / Driving Death Valley Blues / Out of Nowhere

I remember that I told several people about a year ago that Mark Lanegan was gonna come up with the best album of 2004. All the signs were there, as Field Songs hinted at monumental heights and even the lesser tracks on the Here Comes That Weird Chill EP suggested he was gonna unleash all his demons and set the record straight once and for all. Alas, I was wrong. It's not that Bubblegum is a mediocre album, it's also better than just "good", yet I had higher hopes and was anticipating an album I'd have to play each day of the year until a new, fresh, careless pop album would lead me into 2005. As expected, it's his most rock-oriented album and on many songs, the QOTSA-sound (that bass is unmistakeable) is continued, but it's also a logical continuation of the previous albums. Lanegan doesn't make happy albums for happy people. Despite his reserved - dare I say misanthropic? - style/image/attitude, he once again managed to surround himself with a bunch of friends, ranging from Homme & Oliveiri, Greg Dulli, Izzy Stradlin & Duff McKagan (backing vocals on "Strange Religion") to a more unlikely P.J. Harvey. When you scam the liner notes, it's also remarkable to see how the album's structure seems to depend on the particular collaborators on each song. Josh Homme, for instance, performs on songs 1-5 and 9, while Alain Johannes appears on the dissonant psycho-blues of "Methamphetamine Blues" and then takes care of all the musical accompaniment of tracks 11-14. While the production by Lanegan, Chris Goss and Johannes (who did "his" songs) is definitely top-notch (alternately scorching & soothing, sober & elaborate), the album seems to suffer a bit from this chaos of contributors and line-ups and while people will probably wanna deny it with force, it's a fact that tracks like the drum & bass-infused rock of "Can't Come Down" and the desert-rock of "Driving Death Valley Blues" (which could've been a song on Songs for the Deaf), which are basically two-man efforts, can't live up to some of the band efforts. The addition of electronic drums and layers of guitar and keyboards are definitely successful, but when compared to tracks like "Methamphetamine Blues" and the straightforward riff-rock of "Sideways in Reverse," they fall a bit short. Before you start thinkin' that I should've handed this album a rating of "6", let me convince you about its assets. The first third of the album is nearly flawless. First, some subdued piano in the background, next a drum machine (or something) and a bass and then… those vocals. Damn, they always set the tone and with lines like "Did you call for the night porter? / You smell the blood running warm / I stay close to this frozen border / So close I can hit it with a stone," the tone is set, once again. By itself, "Hit the City" isn't that much of a surprise - a laidback, mid-tempo rock song - but it's the harmonies of Lanegan and P.J. Harvey that make it so successful. These people should record an entire album together. "Wedding Dress" works up a gently swaying Middle-Eastern vibe (not unlike Blur's "Caravan" - and check out Lanegan's "badadadadaaas"), "Methamphetamine Blues" takes things into abrasive territory, after which the storm settles again for the familiar sounding ballad "One Hundred Days." After this, the album basically continues in the same vein, yet never keeps the momentum going for that long. "Strange Religion" is one of the best quiet songs, but unfortunately, they're not all that good. By the time you reach "Morning Glory Wine" and "Head," the effect may have waned (as it did in my case) as you'll expect something else for a change. However, there are a few surprises, as "Like Little Willie John" is the best blues song Lanegan's recorded in a few years (that guy's voice was custom-made for droning cuts of trance) and the wonderful closer "Out of Nowhere," returns to the vibe of "Wedding Dress." The best songs on Bubblegum could've made a great album. For some reason, I still seem to think that they included too many songs - the chorus of "Driving Death Valley Blues" partly ruins the pleasure of its gritty sound, a few songs rely too much on modern effects that don't really add anything - and the album seems to lack a coherent vision and consistency that would've made it as good as I wanted it to be. Still, Mark Lanegan is one of the most dependable singers around and his stubborn refusal to release one genre exercise after another deserves shitloads of credit.

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Ballad of the Broken Seas (2006) by Isobel Campbell & Mark Lanegan

8.5

Deus Ibi Est / Black Mountain / The False Husband / Ballad of the Broken Seas / Revolver / Ramblin' Man / (Do You Wanna) Come Walk With Me? / Saturday's Gone / It's Hard to Kill a Bad Thing / Honey Child What Can I Do? / Dusty Wreath / The Circus Is Leaving Town

It is a recipe that has already proven its success: abduct an angelic virgin and deliver her at the mercy of a fearsome, corrupted soul. It's an opposition that caused perverse twists and exalted gasps in medieval stories, scared little children by ways of fairy tales and scary bedtime stories, and is basically a wish come true for everyone who still has an active dream life. The men identify with the imposing danger of the man and drool over the untainted beauty of the girl, while the women finally admit they don't want no spineless gentlemen but prefer the presence of coal-black danger instead. Lee Hazlewood & Nancy Sinatra, Johnny Cash & June Carter, Nick Cave & Kylie Minogue, Serge Gainsbourg & Jane Birkin, Elton John & George Michael, and now Isobel Campbell - ex-Belle & Sebastian and one of the indie world's favorite poster girls - is coupled with Mark Lanegan, a classic rock & roll sinner. You cannot go wrong with real men & sweet girls. The album's genesis is somewhat strange though, as the two protagonists didn't really know each other when they started recording. Campbell sent some basic musical ideas to Lanegan's label and the singer promptly called her, singing the lyrics he'd written. The album itself is also the product of a long distance-relationship, as Campbell laid down the basics of the songs in Scotland, sent them to Lanegan who added vocals in L.A., after which she added her own vocals and further fleshed out the songs, also adding the string arrangements. Luckily, this didn't influence the album's overall sound in a negative way as it has exactly the same organic vibe of Lanegan's output, hovering between the eerie and weary quality of his early work (Whiskey for the Holy Ghost in particular) and the sonic comfort of I'll Take Care of You and Field Songs (as opposed to the dark, rock-oriented vibe of most of Bubblegum's songs).

The album cover (she's staring into the mirror, arranging her hairdo as if she's about to leave, while he - indistinct and absent - is on the bed reading a book) and art work already suggest it won't be a cheerful trip. Indeed, once again uncomfortable silences, communication breakdowns and lost love are at the core of the album. The music itself is perfectly adapted to this: it's lush and carefully constructed, but usually also quite basic, relying on subtle guitar, piano and cello parts. Lanegan mutters or croons his lyrics as well as on any of his solo albums (no bluesy howls on this one), while Campbell's breathy, half-whispered contributions are endlessly fascinating in their ethereal quality. When her voice is presented in all of its fragile glory - on "Saturday's Gone" or "Dusty Wreath," for instance - the results are spell-binding like the most effective lullabies. The myriad of influences and similar artists that will pop up while listening to the album will all add to its mystique: the reverb-heavy guitar effect and slightly creepy ambiance of "The False Husband" eerily recalls "Falling" from the Twins Peaks-soundtrack, the piano-based title track could have been a song on Nick Cave's The Boatman's Call and the country waltz "(Do You Wanna) Come Walk with Me?" would've fit nicely on Johnny Cash's first American Recordings. Equally as impressive is the brief "Revolver," the one track here that was written by Lanegan: a brooding piece of exorcism fully stressing the amazing effect when the two voices are exploring each other.

It's not all rainy day music though, as "Ramblin' Man" (a Hank Williams cover, indeed) is a lazy, masculine shuffle (accompanied by a sexually suggestive video that demands to be seen) that adds some grit to the record and "Honey Child What Can I Do?" recalls the French kitsch of the late 60s as well as proto lounge cult hero Hazlewood. The imposing quality level isn't maintained throughout the entire album (the first half is definitely the better one), yet there's nothing that's bad or even mediocre here, as even the instrumental "It's Hard to Kill a Bad Thing" and the humble "Dusty Wreath" (which always reminds me of those mobile toys turning and playing music above cradles) are inspired keepers. Campbell and Lanegan don't do anything that hasn't already been done before, but the results are pure ear candy, sexy & lush, brooding & sincere, and always beautiful. As such, the first contender for the album of the year-rally has announced itself. (Feb. 13th, 2006)

Read album reviews of similar or related artists: Queens of the Stone Age - Nirvana - Hüsker Dü - Dinosaur Jr - The Gun Club

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