I wrote about Bombadil a while ago. Now, they’re back with an LP A Buzz, A Buzz due to be released on April 29 from Ramseur Records.
This is a gently-wrought record, a weather-beaten path on a crisp spring morning. With none of the trappings of the city, it’s free to meander and follow the counters of the land: here crossing a stream on an old wooden bridge, there running alongside a patch of trees. It’s filled with bumps and holes, the occasional branch. You wander in and out of the shade as the leaves rustle in the wind above. And if you look back over your shoulder you can see your own steps and light swirls of dust settling gently.
But the conceit only begins there. Because if the record is the path, each song is a different traveler. They move along the same route but each at their own pace, with their own purpose, entering and exiting at their own locations. And each relate to it in their own way.
The day breaks and down walks a fisherman with a pole over his shoulder off to spend a quiet day knee-deep in water with the sun on his face (“Smile When You Kiss”). Later comes a girl, running wildly, full of grace and joy – who stops to gather flowers in her arms (“Get to Getting On”). And then a trio of boys, running full bore, exulting in the feel of the wind in their hair (“Rosetta Stone”). The sun climbs in the sky and along comes a pair of young lovers, holding hands, with eyes only for each other (“One Two Three”). Then, out from the midst of a shadow steps a Medieval mystic (“Julian of Norwich”). And finally, inexplicably, a full circus troupe, practicing their fire-juggling routine and doing cartwheels (“Cavaliers Har Hur”). Each is linked, but in a manner that defies easy explanation.
Okay, that’s all well and good, but what does it sound like? If I had an easy answer to that question, I wouldn’t have invested so much time in the path metaphor. If you’re looking for a category, I guess it’s folk, but they also rock pretty hard. And there’s plenty of weird here, from lyrics to playful instrumentation, but the undercurrent always remains a strong folk impulse. A long-lost Elephant 6 band who spent the last 10 years listening to mid-60s Dylan?
Possibly, but the more I keep searching for a reference that truly captures the approach if not necessarily the sound, the more I keep coming back to The Pogues. Sure the styles are different, but both play very traditional songs in very nontraditional ways and in doing so extract the best from both worlds. And most importantly, the defining characteristic of both is the organic sound.
A melange of instruments are deployed: guitars, banjos, xylophones, organs, trumpets, and many more I can’t even guess at. And while they don’t shy away from electrical instruments, those never intrude. They lift up, spread out, and open space for each sound to fully express itself. The result is an absolutely enormous sound. Now sounding “big” is nothing all that special, but they way they go about it is. Instead of compressing everything to drown out the gaps and create the illusion of size, each sound here is crisp and full – contracting and expanding as necessary to suit the context. The result is a record that would be perfectly at home anywhere from the smallest coffeehouse to the Colosseum.
This is not the best album of the year, but it’s certainly one of the most entertaining and possibly one of the most inventive.
Julian of Norwich – Bombadil
Cavaliers Har Hur – Bombadil