Fingertips

“The Great Depression” – Midwest Dilemma
     A brisk, bittersweet country waltz, “The Great Depression” tells a vague but insistent story of deprivation and resolve, via a 23-piece folk orchestra. Front man and songwriter Justin Lamoureux, from Omaha, sings with a refreshing, scuffed-up solidity–no wispy, chamber pop tenor he–but at the same time leaves plenty of room for the contraption-like menagerie of guitars and winds and strings and percussion that is Midwest Dilemma, as they pump and sway (and, occasionally, squeak) along with him. I picture Lamoureux singing from smack in the middle of it all, sometimes needing to stand on tiptoes to be noticed.
     The album on which you’ll find “The Great Depression” is called Timelines & Tragedies, and was self-released in May. It apparently tells stories of Lamoureux’s family history, spanning some 400 years (this song is not a current political statement, just to be clear). The indie scene of the ’00s has definitively given birth to this sort of docurock–idiosyncratic, often incomprehensible takes on personal and cultural history. Neutral Milk Hotel may have spawned the trend 10 years ago, with the strange but seminal In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. You need a good melody to carry this kind of thing off; a compelling arrangement is another plus. “The Great Depression” scores on both counts. The harmonies provided by Elizabeth Webb enhance the power of the song’s resilient tune, and as for the arrangement, pay particular attention to how oceanic the earnest, acoustic churn of the ensemble becomes during the song’s closing half-minute. Some songs do not need to be fully understood to be gotten.

“Snowblind” – +/-<
     This one starts as intimate electronica, the twitchy percussion blipping with a startling three-dimensionality, while a tranquil keyboard offers muted chords and James Baluyut sings a soft series of interrupted phrases so casually he may as well be talking. It’s 50 seconds before we hear a guitar, and what it gives us at first is a careful, reverberant line that joins in with the calm itchiness thus far unfolding.
     Calm itchiness is not going to hold, of course. At 1:48, as the lyrics tell us that there is “no way to draw the poison out,” the guitar breaks from its noodly mode and offers a ringing rhythm with the most wonderful chords–chords that sound at once central and off-center, urgent and restrained, obvious and oblique. This goes on for half a minute; it’s interesting, come to think of it, that the guitar solo is all rhythm rather than lead. Interesting too that without an obvious chorus, the solo comes as a surprise, and not just for its volume and texture. We haven’t been prepared for it by the song’s structure. When Baluyut returns, he’s singing in a higher register, still the same sort of interrupted phrases, and then here’s the moment I, somehow, love most of all: at 3:36, when he leaps to falsetto and holds the word “you” through a downward series of notes (in classical music, they’d call that a melisma), twice. By now the flurry of guitar and full-fledged drumming is all but blizzard-like, creating an aural version of the title’s state (which, lyrically, is metaphorical, not actual).
     “Snowblind” is from the new +/- (say “Plus/Minus”) album, Xs On Your Eyes. This is the Brooklyn-based trio’s fourth, and it’s due out this week on Absolutely Kosher Records. MP3 via Absolutely Kosher.

“Surefooted” – Geoff Ereth

Deftly arranged and smartly paced, “Surefooted” packs a goodly number of instruments into a brisk three and a half minutes, but the sound remains clean and uncluttered. There’s piano and guitar and drums, there’s a string quartet, a trombone, an interesting keyboard or two, maybe a woodwind of one sort or another—“orchestral folk” is what Brooklyn-based multi-instrumentalist Geoff Ereth calls it. But unlike much of what comes under the “chamber pop” umbrella, “Surefooted” leaves enough white space in and around its arrangement to feel fresh and easy rather than baroque and belabored.

The key, I think, is the strength of the song itself. I love instrumental variety in rock’n’roll as much as anyone, but too often the aural curlicues are covering up melodic staleness—underneath the ornamentation, there’s no there there, to use that old Gertrude Stein nugget. With “Surefooted,” there’s plenty of there, as both the verse and chorus feature strong melodies, put forward with gentle assurance by the smooth-voiced Ereth (and note the arresting way he offers harmonies on the middle lines of each verse but not the first and last). Symbolic, perhaps, of the song’s full but unadorned feel is the instrumental break at around 2:10—rather than any orchestral swell, we are stripped down to just the strings, playing with punch and punctuation (and pizzicato), which creates room for an uncomplicated but evocative piano line that wanders briefly through at 2:20. (The string quartet that plays with Ereth on his record is Osso, which is the same group that has performed with both Sufjan Stevens and My Brightest Diamond.)

Drunk With Translation was released digitally via iTunes last month, and will be out on CD in January; it is self-released, under the Deerly Records imprint.