Wide-Eyed, Legless – Laura Veirs
I Can See Your Tracks – Laura Veirs
I’ve had the new Laura Veirs record for more than six months at this point, and I still don’t have a well-developed perspective on it. She, more than almost any artist I can think of, has always struck me as intensely linked to the natural world. When I think of her previous albums I get very specific pictures in my mind. An iceberg moving quietly through Antarctic waters, a deep cave illuminated only by a frail torchlight that scatters reflections off a dark pool, the vast emptiness of space and the sense of stasis that comes from a recognition that movement out there only happens on the scale of millions of years.
Her previous record, Saltbreakers, broke from this mold a bit. It felt more like intentionally-constructed music and less like a purely accidental phenomenon. This can be both good and bad. But on the whole, it was a bit of a disappointment. I think Veirs is at her best when you can suspend your disbelief.
On that scale, July Flame is probably a return to form. This time around, I can’t help but picture a dense forest, with flickers of the bright summer sun dripping down to the ground, but the dense overhang imposing a severe limit on what can make it through. There’s something very pleasant about it: the sense of summer and light that can only be grasped in patches, the feeling of a separate world that is dark and close–locked away by the height of the trees.
On the best tracks, this all goes very well. Opener “I Can See Your Tracks” is a perfect example. It’s quiet and simple, with beautifully plucked guitar accompaniment and her wonderfully singular voice. “July Flame” continues along this vein. It’s slightly more dense, enticing you to peel apart the layers. Both of these tracks are exercises in patience and restraint. There is no flashy chorus or standout moment. But they do develop and together provide an excellent summation of what she has to offer.
However, as things continue on, you do start to wish there was a bit more oomph somewhere. “Sun is King” is a beautiful song but apart from a couple perfectly placed notes on the pedal steel guitar (which are revelatory) it doesn’t move you all that far. Along the same lines, “Where Are You Driving?” is a great song that nevertheless leaves you wondering if it couldn’t have been something just a bit more. Elsewhere, “Little Deschutes” is a nice wisp of a song, but stretched out to more than four minutes it can’t really be sustained. Same goes for “When You Give Your Heart.”
“Summer Is The Champion” is a bit of an exception to the picture I’ve been painting here. It sounds more like the midsummer night’s festival that happens in the clearing deep inside the forest, full of dancing sprites and the heat of a bonfire. It pops and crackles and really brings to life the middle of the record, with otherwise would be at serious risk of losing its way.
The other major high note is “Wide-Eyed, Legless” which moves in delightfully obtuse angles and is tantalizingly short. It’s by far the strangest song on the record, but also manages to be one of the most immediately pleasurable at the same time. In short, it’s a reminder that when everything clicks, Veirs is one of the finer songwriters out there.
One other (minor) complaint about the record is the male harmonies. Jim James and Karl Blau both take part–and while I do like their own work–I just don’t like the way their voices work with her’s. “Life Is Good Blues” is a perfect example of a song that would be better if left alone. And “Sleeper in the Valley” is a perfect example of a song that is far better for being able to float freely around her pure voice.
She also did a Daytrotter session recently, which includes some very nice versions of tracks on this record. Well worth exploring.