Recorded in what lead singer Ben Miller describes as, "The ghostly
stillness of Block Island," which is a small island off the coast of
Rhode Island, the Providence-based band explores not only finely woven,
multi-textured sounds, but the fundamental interaction of sound and
silence in their new CD, "Oh My God, Charlie Darwin."
That is one way of putting it.
The other is this: Listening to The Low Anthem's CD is like riding on
an explosive wrecking ball, your arms gripping the chain, your legs
dangling over the steel ball, your stomach curdling in your mouth as
the hell-bent contraption swings higher and higher, taking you further
away from the ground. You know the impact is coming- some brutal,
bone-twisting crash that will leave you changed, but you don't know
when. In the meantime you are swinging lightly in the sky, breathing
the moisture of clouds, suspended from everything you have left behind,
not knowing whether to scream or laugh.
Keep riding it - don't let the image go, because the first track,
"Charlie Darwin," is a simple, wind-driven composition. Miller's voice
floats with a breezy falsetto timbre, its only companion an acoustic
guitar, the two working together, swelling, rising, falling into a
stream of voices, those of bassist Jeff Prystowski and clarinetist
Jocie Adams.
The steel orb is released, and with the momentum gathering on track
two, "To Ohio," is a melody that pulses like a sullen train beating up
from the south, regretful but reposeful. You hear the refrain again and
again, the harmonies locked in, sharp, a scythe of over golden wheat,
blood-orange embers surging in a fire, incandescently potent.
The heat emanates out, searing your face - the wrecking ball released,
hurtling down toward the ground. Cover your face, your eyes, your teeth
because on track three, "The Horizon is a Beltway," Miller's voice
drops into a guttural howl, bloody, grainy, sandpaper; Prystowki's bass
throbbing, quaking your ribs; the volume is turned up, the speakers
crackling, the track changing to "Home I'll Never Be," (music by Tom
Waits, lyrics by Jack Kerouac); a rip-roaring trip of dirty pool halls,
gambling halls, brawling bars, dirty booze.
But don't worry, the release comes as quickly as the madness. You have
cleared the impact, your body intact as tension falls with a deep
breath on "Ticket Taker," the music lands like a soft rain on a smoky
evening, the lyrics subtle, haunting. The wrecking ball is rising up,
quietly, back into the sky with "Music Box," with ambient ripples, no
words, colors, warm skin, dream music.
Rise higher, into the firmament on track 10, "Cage the Songbird," as
the air changes, it becomes sparse, cleaning the lungs, cradling you in
perfect vocal harmony, the space opens into new aural landscapes,
nothing more than a breathing melody that will remain with you, even as
the record ends, and you finally step down.
The ride is over. Take a second.
OK, now to other matters: Charlie Darwin, the name that appears on the CD's cover. What is this about?
"Darwin's ideas are the liberator of the individual from different
false structures of meaning; obsolete ethical codes," says Miller. "He
challenges us to look at where our codes have come from. Structures of
meaning have been and continue to evolve much the same as species. It
undermines fixed religious views and it undermines absolutism. The
church with the biggest reproductive organ - missionary capacity and
military strength - spreads her seed and determines the course of
things."
In Miller's opinion, it is this theme that permeates throughout the
album, both directly and non-directly, therefore providing a
philosophical blueprint on which the music is laid.
Yet beyond the concepts of Darwinism is the music alone - music that is
original enough to exist confidentially bereft of words. On this album,
The Low Anthem uses 27 instruments, exploring textures, specific
timbres and mixtures. This being said, trying to categorize The Low
Anthem into a type of music, which we love to do, is impossible at
times. It is Americana, bluesy, rocky, and dozens of boxes that they
cannot be placed into.
Also, in a time of synthesized drum beats, factory-built songs,
monotony and voice-altering recording studios, The Low Anthem does not
much as rebel, but quietly step aside to do it their own way. There are
no metronomes stabilizing their songs, or gaudy computerized refrains,
or anything of the sort. Instead, there is the ageless quality of
crafting songs with space to breath, welcoming the silence, finding
unique, organic sounds layered thoughtfully to build something neither
diffident nor ostentatious, but appropriate to the character of the
creation.
To release this art, Low Anthem is setting out on a national tour in
September, playing 28 dates and releasing the disc along the way - a
disc that was literally handmade and packaged by the band in Block
Island, inside of which reads:
"Set the sails I feel the winds a' stirring, towards the bright horizon
set the way. Cast your reckless dreams upon our Mayflower, a haven from
the world and her decay."
For more information on The Low Anthem, their music, their words and their tour dates, visit: lowanthem.com.
