CD Review:
redtun...@gmail.com
The music of this Portland, Oregon quartet is surprisingly difficult
describe. While there's an earthy, near-Americana quality to many of
their songs, it's often fleshed out in quiet vocals and the lingering
tempos of contemporary vocalists like Norah Jones. There are old-timey
American and European sounds woven throughout, but they're rendered in
relief of the shadowy, modernistic productions rather than nostalgia.
The acoustic rhythm guitar and violin of the opener brings to mind
Gypsy jazz, and though the Spanish lyrics add a helping of drama (ala
Patrica Vonne, for example), the organ, tremolo guitar and a nearly
imperceptible loop turn the track dark and hypnotic. Many of the
album's tunes create similar moods, with Teisha Helgerson's whispery
vocals backed by instrumental sounds that often seem delightfully out
of context. The slashing electric strums of "Farewell" bring to mind
Flamenco, but turned from fierce to enigmatic by a labored rhythm,
slide guitar, and slow motion. The song's lyric provides its own
contrasts, wondering aloud about the awkward relief felt for a
relationship's dissolution. Later on the album's "Great Escape"
contemplates the dull pain of complacency, imagining lovers too
comfortable to reach out for something exceptional. Most of the
album's lyrics are serpentine enigmas, weaving their way into the
melodies with cinematic imagery rather than narrative. There are
references to by-gone objects like rotary telephones, megaphones, and
"odd belongings," and the backings can bring to mind the dark
carnivals of David Lynch. The mid-tempo rhythm of "Tragedy" feels as
if it were drawn from "Cabaret," with Helgerson's dispassionate vocal
and the instrumental passages providing the haunting atmosphere of an
empty theater. Helgerson fills the album with tension by couching
soaring melodies in hushed restraint; you can feel notes straining to
arch more powerfully, yet held back to court down-tempo, sparse
backings that can't wake up from what might be a dream, or what might
be a nightmare. This is akin to a dimly lit street on which shadowy
nothings are as nerve-wracking as concrete somethings, and there's
both comfort and dread in every step. [(c)2008 redtunictroll at hotmail
dot com]