Listening Log Past - Volume 63

What's a Listening Log? Well, the idea is quite simple. It's a weekly segment that consolidates all the mini-reviews Dozens Of Donuts has given on RateYourMusic over the past week, split between the Past and Present. A straightforward grading scale has been put in place, ranging from A+ to F-, with C acting as the baseline average. There is no set amount of reviews per week, just however many I get around to reviewing. And don't expect week-of reviews. I wait one month - with at least three listens under my belt - before I rate and review an album. Enjoy!

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Terry Allen | Lubbock (On Everything)
1979 | Progressive Country | Listen

RELAYING SMALL TOWN DRAMA ON AN EXPRESS TRAIN

And to think Juarez was ambitious, with its decorated plot and robust array of side characters. At a whopping 79 minutes, 26 longer than Juarez, Lubbock goes above and beyond the call of duty for a western outlaw. Stereotypes are shattered as Terry Allen embarks on a quest to spotlight the town of Lubbock, Texas in musical form. It's like Oklahoma! for grumpy ne'er-do-wellers. Though, more often than not, the music itself stands at odds with my general tastes, I still can't discredit the level of passion and vested interest Allen revels in. Whether it's a story about a football star turned prison inmate ('The Great Joe Bob'), snobbish New Yorkers and their arrogant spectacle of art ('Truckload Of Art'), a train-hopping run-away vagrant ('New Delhi Freight Train'), or dancing conservatively with a love interest and her bony back ('The Thirty Years War Waltz'), Lubbock is never deplete on content that stretches across Outlaw Country and all those who inhabit it.

It's also much more explosive, determined, and boisterous than Juarez, as it really attempts to encapsulate a theatrical performance. Complete with straying genre exploration. Spoken word interludes are toned down, though still present whenever necessary, which leads to some awfully comical moments. The levity on Lubbock helps drive home the sincerity elsewhere, as tracks like 'The Wolfman Of Del Rio,' 'The Beautiful Waitress,' and 'I Just Left Myself' find Allen reflecting with grim outlooks, scotch presumably in hand. Despite the enterprising enthusiasm and general moxie, the reason preference falls on Lubbock over Juarez is really quite mundane. There are three excellent songs, something Allen's debut had not one of. 'Lubbock Woman' begins as an ordinary Allen romp, with slice-of-life details and down-to-earth kindness, before morphing into a ludicrously-catchy, Beatles-inspired Psychedelic Rock coda. 'New Delhi Freight Train' is essentially expansive Progressive Rock for those who prefer the Oregon Trail, truly capturing the freewheeling alacrity of a train crossing state borders, coil blazing its way. Lastly, 'The Pink & Black Song' comes out of nowhere with, get this, a Glam Rock first half and a Doo-Wop second. It's artistically exotic while containing Allen's magnetic charm, making for an adorable juxtaposition for the life of a Westerner.

Though I struggle with inert moments like 'Cocktails For Three' or 'My Amigo,' there's no denying the heart of Lubbock and its fervent analyzation of the drifter lifestyle. It's an aesthetic I rarely see, and even more rarely indulge in, for those accustomed to such a daily grind don't normally favor artistic expression of such shabbiness. Terry Allen is special in that regard, and for that reason alone I consider my brief excursion into his music a success.

B-

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Mount Eerie | Clear Moon
2012 | Avant-Folk | Listen

ENGULFED IN MISERY, A CONFUSED MORTAL FIGHTS

The relationship between Phil Elverum and I centers around psychological abuse. One moment, there's hatred. Another, vast appreciation. Like the couple always at each other's throats, on again off again, rekindling that love because of some strange, unpronounced kinship that draws them ever closer. I had grown tired of Elverum's transformation with Mount Eerie, discrediting that album's expansive journey into the unknown (under The Microphones) with empty, despondent, overly-pretentious Singer/Songwriter. Albums like Lost Wisdom and Dawn were complete slogs, marred by sentimental abandonment. Wind's Poem righted the ship, incorporating Elverum's bleak poetics with his obsession over sound dilation. Clear Moon does the same, rebounding off the lost years of Mount Eerie by wresting control of his emotional palate for use in the production. Clearly inspired by the wondrous mythology of Twin Peaks, Clear Moon reestablishes Elverum's status as inventor, molder, shaper of worlds.

'Through The Trees, Pt. 2,' a sequel to one of Wind's Poem's best, allows listeners the time to settle into the dark, wintry setting without abusing their disorientated state as Elverum soon will. It's calm, peaceful, organic Singer/Songwriter with enough pluck and tonal effects to spice up his insipid take on the genre. Where Clear Moon shines though, occurs in the versatility of sound and puncturing of reality, both of which come later. 'The Place I Live' is, along with 'Between Two Mysteries,' Elverum's clearest ode to Twin Peaks yet. Angelo Badalamenti's droning strings, romantic in their dialysis drawl, can be heard continuously, compounded by the naturalistic percussion whose frayed edges offset the balance of a haunted ecosphere. The scope is mammoth, yet internal, and really well executed.

Two more instances of the Twin Peaks aesthetic emerge concretely on 'Lone Bell' and 'Clear Moon,' the former containing a frantic sense of impending doom with the ethereal Jazz Lynch was famous for using, while the latter drudges through persistent misery using intoning Noise and ominous, clashing hi-hats. All the perspectives are accounted for on Clear Moon, which gives it the ambidexterity it needs to thrive. The exact same that allowed Twin Peaks to flourish in the inexplicable. Interestingly enough, 'House Shape' - my personal favorite - strays with an unusually-rhythmic beat Elverum wouldn't normally conform to. Yet, that rarity alone allows it to surface as a special centerpiece, unsettling enough to match Clear Moon's atonal vibrations, but balanced enough to be genuinely enjoyable on repeated listens.

B

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