Califone, Quicksand/Cradlesnakes, 2003
Opening the shades of the window next to my desk this afternoon, I greet patches of blue sky rolled over by thick storm-clouds and the occasional rumble of thunder. Springtime in Salt Lake is like this; an undecided outside hints at the magic of blooming life to come, but suspends our hearts in their winter retreats as we yearn to emerge. Earlier, I was reading a close friend’s account of the death of his grandmother, and, like always, this friend broke me wide open with a single sentence: “What I want to say is that we live at edges.” Today, like every other day in which I am actually awake to the world, I open my eyes to namelessness, to an edge of weather showing its remarkable knack for refusing my language (R. Blaser: “the tree stands before me of what name”).
Right now, Califone is meeting me at this particular edge. A band that itself emerged from lead singer Tim Rutili’s former blues-rock outfit Red Red Meat, Califone, with their first release dating back to 1998 and nine albums following, navigates on each of their albums the peculiar intersections between folk, psychedelic, blues, electronica, and pop with haphazard grace. With my attention so focused on the shifting April weather, I threw on their incredible 2003 album, Quicksand/Cradlesnakes, and sank sweetly into its ramshackle beauty.
The kind of experimentation with Americana that Rutili and company do so well strikes a certain chord with me because of the power with which its soundscapes conjure landscapes. Quicksand/Cradlesnakes is sparse, delicate, and full of movement. High deserts, plains, tundras, country roads. For me, the promise of these open, often arid spaces (both geographically and musically) is that they leave what's living there the room to move freely, But, of course, the knowledge of additional presences drives us towards companionship, so the players and their instruments find their own paths toward each other. Droning strings collapse instantly into ambling banjo plucking, catchy melodies are dissolved by clattering percussion, and the guitars move from cooperative riffs to surreal dissonance in a way that evokes the playful dance of light and dark outside my window.
The high points of this album are the points where it is most focused, namely “Michigan Girls” (one of my favorite songs ever recorded), but I think they hold up so well because of the understated sonic explorations they get to intermittently peek through. This is not an album full of atemporal songwriting gems that can stand alone, but rather a study in the process of “song” that walks itself up to the edge of its own considerations and waits there for us, softly tapping its boots in the dust.
-Dylan
Download here
Califone - Michigan Girls by henryfess
No comments:
Post a Comment