Timesbold Album Reviews

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Eye Eye (2004)

Eye Eye (2004)

8.5

Bone Song / Go Down / Vengeance Day / Wind to Rise / Call to Arms / All Blues / Wings on a Girl / Kudzu / Sometimes the Water / Riches and Griefs / Black Eyed Suzy / It's a Sag (When You Lift the World) / Knowwhere (uncredited hidden track)

I have no idea whether it's a universal sensation, but have you ever felt the world stop while you were listening to a piece of music? A piece of music that was so overwhelming that it felt as if it was the first time you heard anything like it? Have you ever heard a song that seems to reside in its own sound palette, imaginary world, universe, yet seems so vividly familiar and recognizable? "Bone Song," the lead-off track on Timesbold's sophomore album, is a song like that. Even though this five-piece hails from Brooklyn, NYC, they managed capture a kind of desolate, rustic Americana that's much more convincing than many releases by other artists working in that field. Jason Merritt (who is also a solo artist using the pseudonym Whip) is a singer-songwriter in a long tradition of several generations that's nowadays also upheld by David Eugene Edwards (16 Horsepower), Bonnie Prince Billy and Jason Molina (Songs:Ohia), which implies he isn't exactly the jolliest guy on the block. On Eye Eye, he's aided by multi-instrumentalists Max Liechtenstein (a producer who worked with Mercury Rev, but also produced this album), Tony San Marco, Eli Schneider and Jesse Sparhawk. As it happens, the songs on this album were written by Merritt during and after a deep depression, while the band fleshed them out afterwards. However, what makes this album special is that it avoids becoming a depressing listen. Yes, it is occasionally a very emotional (even though the lyrics are not that personal - making it easier to identify, ironically) and dark album, but it's also very beautiful, with wonderfully melancholic melodies to be discovered and surprisingly baroque arrangements that walk the thin line between bombast and grandeur. "Bone Song," for instance, starts off on a muted note, only with acoustic guitar and mandolin. Then Merritt's voice enters the picture, and it's perfectly suited for Americana: a bit plaintive, creaky and fragile, ideally suited for tales of love and loss, hope and redemption. The lyrics of the song refuse to be pinned down, build upon their own elusive imagery, which can be a metaphor for anything you'd like it to be. The music is as hard to pin down, as layers of instruments are laid on top of each other: there's a cello, a banjo, a drum beat that becomes more incessant, strings that swell to bombastic proportions until it suddenly all retracts at a moment when its grandeur suggests it's ready to be used as the soundtrack to an imaginary western. And just as the lyrics during the crescendo are repeated ("again and again"), you wish the song would continue and go on and on, on and on, keeping the state of trance intact. It doesn't happen, but what follows is hardly a letdown, as "Go Down" is 200 seconds of coal-black desolation constructed by "poorly" recorded piano parts, a banjo being plucked, a weeping violin, horns and something that sounds like a child's toy. The gloomy atmosphere is continued throughout the next song as well (and basically most of the album), as the swifter American gothic of "Vengeance Day" hovers between 16 Horsepower's exorcism and The Black Heart Procession's ominous tales. Another highlight (actually a low one) is "Wind to Rise," the album's apex of hopelessness - translated into imagery of clipped wings and Dumbo's ears being not big enough to lift a body. All this would've been hard to digest, if the band hadn't counted several multi-instrumentalists among its ranks, people that colour with instruments such as mandolin, banjo, but also theremin and, in this case, a harp. It's also due to weird sensations like hearing a twang-y guitar in unison with horns that this album won't be lumped in with many anonymous products. To offer some "relief" once in a while, there are a few more up-tempo songs placed in the middle of the album, as "Call to Arms" and "Wings on a Girl" offer temporary escape from the melancholia that infests most of the other songs. Especially the latter is particularly successful, with its "big", almost orchestral arrangement, swaying stand-up bass rhythm and nearly festive chorus, with even "hurrah"-cries (although every "hurrah" coming from Merritt leaves a bit of a nasty taste). "Kudzu" picks up the funereal atmosphere, which is kept up until the album comes to an end. On the one hand, this is a good thing, as Eye Eye is a wonderfully homogenous listen, but somehow I felt that they used too many of their best songs for its first half, making the second half a bit weaker by comparison. "Sometimes the Water," "Riches and Grief" and "Black Eyed Suzy;" they're songs I wish I could've written, but they're no match for the uniqueness of "Bone Song" or "Wind to Rise," songs that already justify the price you'll have to pay. However, the album does end with another moment of brilliance, one that always makes me even more silent than I already am. "It's a Sag (When You Lift the World)" derives its strength entirely from a simple piano melody, vocals and lyrics, but manages to be painfully beautiful. "You are an angel / I am a flame / I have more pleasure simply reciting your name." Intensity doesn't have to be translated in decibels. Eye Eye is a bit too inconsistent to be a fully-fledged masterpiece, but its best moments (and there are several candidates) are among the most affecting music I've heard in a long, long while. Those highlights aren't just music, but moments you might treasure. Or share with someone. Or both, if you're lucky.