Cassandra Jenkins ‘Phenomenal Nature’ – Review

Cassandra Jenkins had been gearing up to tour with Purple Mountains when the band’s singer/songwriter David Berman took his own life in 2019. The event had a profound impact on Jenkins, and over the course of three months she wrote songs that wrestled with, and ultimately transcended, that loss.

On ‘Ambiguous Norway’ she describes arriving in Oslo, after Berman’s passing, with an enormous sense of ‘what now?’ “No matter where I go/ You’re gone, you’re everywhere.” She reflects in a typically zen-like passage. On the gorgeous ‘New Bikini’, she finds solace in the healing quality of the ocean, which speaks to the album’s larger theme of – to quote the album’s title – Phenomenal Nature. Jenkins is besotted by the world around her. She illustrates that in her musicality as much as anything else; the instruments swirl and move with a freedom that could only come from a place of tranquility and patient understanding. Spaces between the instruments tend to open and close unexpectedly; a drum loop might enter then fade, replaced by a saxophone or errand bass line. Occasionally they feel too untethered; closer ‘The Ramble’ is seven minutes of nothing much in particular while ‘Hard Drive’ spirals around  without ever really climaxing. The mood throughout can feel lovely and enveloping but can sometimes feel a little too ethereal for my taste. 

Jenkins’ melodies are dictated and driven by her lyrics, which feel as loose as the music. Often she just speaks plainly – ‘Hard Drive’ is a spoken word, stream of consciousness number that weaves between a number of intimate, pseudo-philosophical conversations. On album closer, the expansive ‘Ramble’, her words are absent entirely. This song in particular has an ambient, improvisational tone that ends the album on an airy, ambiguous note.

These songs were recorded quickly over a matter of days, and the arrangements were settled upon spontaneously by Jenkins and producer Josh Kaufman, which lends them a looseness that compliments the songwriting. As Jenkins herself has acknowledged in interviews, six minute songs that skirt the line between jazz, spoken word, ambient and psychedelia will not be to everyone’s taste but, caught in the right light, ‘Phenomenal Nature’ is enchanting. David Berman’s loss was a tragedy on multiple levels and, in its originality and wisdom, ‘Phenomenal Nature’ feels like the perfect tribute.

7/10

Review Roundup March ‘21

Another Michael ‘New Music and Big Pop’

Another Michael have created a gorgeous, homespun collection of empathetic indie rock songs that are so warm they’re liable to tan you in close proximity. Highlights include ‘Big Pop’, ‘What Gives’ and ‘Row’ which thread a line between various Phil Elk productions of recent years, from Fleet Foxes to Modest Mouse to The Shins. Michael Doherty’s bright melodies are infectiously offset by some subtle harmonies. His topics are occasionally obscure and his delivery can be a little tepid but the potential here is enormous.

8/10

–

Maximo Park ‘Nature Always Wins’

Maximo Park were always unfairly marginalised in the indie landfill category but they were much better than that. Their positively sharp lyrics only dulled in comparison to the even sharper guitar hooks that came to define a period of time where adjectives like ‘angular’ were dropped into almost every review. ‘Nature Always Wins’, which comes after relative misfires like ‘Too Much Information’ and ‘Risk to Exist’, is their best collection in a decade. Less wiry and despairing than those records, ‘Nature Always Wins’ was produced by Ben Allen, who imbues these songs with his trademark warmth and sense of exploration. These recordings are fuller and less abrasive than the band’s recent material and singer Paul Smith sounds better than ever. In ‘All of Me’ and Baby Sleep’, he’s written two incredibly catchy singles that will sit nicely on set lists alongside ‘Apply Some Pressure’ and ‘Graffiti’. Fans of Maximo Park will be delighted.

7.5/10

–

Lana Del Rey ‘Chemtrails Over the Country Club’

‘Chemtrails Over the Country Club’ is the low-key follow up to ‘Normon Fucking Rockwell’, one of the most acclaimed albums of recent years. Ostensibly her ‘Tunnel of Love’ to ‘Norman Fucking Rockwell’s ‘Born in the USA’, Chemtrails…’ is an understated and often weird record that zooms in on some of the intimate details that occasionally got lost is the grandiose sweep of ‘Rockwell’s melodrama. It’s not that this is a better record but it’s certainly a more digestible, and curious, one. If you found ‘Rockwell’s continuous commentary on heady concepts like Love and Faith in modern America a little suffocating then the delicate approach to more interior themes might be for you. Del Rey’s voice and melodies are as sumptuous as ever and the songs themselves, mainly acoustic, are light-footed and accessible. ‘Wild at Heart’, ‘Dark but Just a Game’ and ‘Let me Love You Like a Woman’ best exemplify these qualities. The album lacks the bite of ‘Born to Die’, the languid, swooning atmosphere of ‘Ultraviolence’ and the complexity of ‘Norman Fucking Rockwell’ but on its own modest terms ‘Chemtrails Over the Country Club’ is a lovely addition to Lana Del Ray’s singular discography.

7.5/10

• 

• 

• 

Kings of Leon ‘When You See Yourself’ – Review

Just as the flairs are now slim cut over stylish Chelsea boots, so too Kings of Leon have dulled and diluted their southern swagger over time, replacing it with a hard earned professionalism that might once have felt like the antithesis of what the group were all about. Eight albums along (and who else in the class of 2003 can say that?) and the band have relaxed into a mild, sandy groove that remains incredibly popular but somewhat detached from their original raisin d’etre. The itchy, excitable indie rock of ‘Aha Shake Heartbreak’ and the moodier post-punk inflected sound of ‘Because of the Time’ are also relics of the 00’s. But on ‘When You See Yourself’ they go back deeper in time, to an era that predates even ‘Youth and Young Manhood’. Their eighth album feels like an appropriately comfortable nod to the country rock songwriters that inspired the band to pick up guitars in the first place. It’s a sound that suits them well.

This is a contemplative, assured album that doesn’t strain to replicate or replace the anthems that they are probably unable to write these days. There is no ‘Sex on Fire’. There is no ‘Use Somebody’. But as a consequence, Kings of Leon have allowed themselves to luxuriate in the wide open space that the middle ground affords. And these songs are as cavernous – or empty – as you chose to believe. 

First the highlights: ‘Fairytale’ is a gorgeous ballad. It’s the sound of a sun slowly setting over a lake or a photo  coming into focus. ‘Claire and Eddy’ is equally accomplished. Caleb, in his honeyed tone, swoons over one of Nathan’s typically buoyant baselines. There is serious craft here. Marcus Dravis’ production can be a little too polite at points but he’s coaxed nuanced performances out of the band. 

New single ‘The Bandit’ is the only moment where they let loose and unleash some of their old fashioned rock n roll, even though it feels slightly buttoned up in comparison to the old days. Nonetheless, it’s got a familiarity that will be cat nip to long-term KOL fans. There is no doubt the album would benefit from more of this energy and tenacity. By the end, the mid-paced grooves, sleepy structures and overly generous running times allow the songs to blend into one another in unflattering ways.

An area that doesn’t feel particularly developed is the lyrics. Vintage synths melt nicely into the syrupy mix on understated opener ‘When You See Yourself, Are You Far Away?’ where Caleb poses a series of increasingly abstract questions to the listener, and establishes the lack of clarity that seemingly blights his personal life as much as his writing. The sense of humour and weirdness that redeemed him on ‘Youth and Young Manhood’ and ‘Aha Shake Heartbreak’ is as absent as the simplicity that made refrains like ‘I could use somebody’ so universally felt. ‘When You See Yourself’ articulates a roughly similar sentiment as that across its 11 tracks but in increasingly abstract terms. The album’s only real attempt at a power ballad in a similar vein to ‘Use Somebody’ can be found on first single ‘100,00 People’, a song that begins with the head scratcher ‘rake at the moon where the river flows / cut from the cloth of the winter’s cold’ and only becomes more inscrutable from there. It takes an agonising three minutes to arrive at the first chorus.

But ‘When You See Yourself’ at least has a direction and an identity, two things sorely missing from ‘Walls’ and to a lesser extent ‘Mechanical Bull’ and ‘Come Around Sundown’, all three of which felt like increasingly diminished reimaginings of ‘Only by the Night’s agile arena rock. ‘When You See Yourself’ is meandering and, frankly, quite boring in large stretches, but it establishes a mood and plays it out to conclusion. This is a beige album, but as the album cover suggests, it’s a beige album by design, one that may be as hard to get excited about as it is hard to dislike. It’s a placid thing; nothing risked, nothing gained – but nothing lost either. This is comfortable territory for the Tennessean band who, for the first time in quite a while, sound like they have found their way home. 

6/10

Shame ‘Drunk Tank Pink’ – Review

If you asked your dad to define punk he would probably describe something close to Shame. In my experience, they are a band that beardy blokes who drink craft ale, and used to go to gigs, listen to. Theirs is an often blistering sound but one that is essentially buttoned up and safe. Their conviction is real but it’s carefully articulated. File them alongside Fontaines DC and Idles as oppose to Gulch or Record Setter – this is a band for whom you feel punk is an artistic choice rather than a life of death commitment. For a genre that is necessarily defined by extreme commitment, that can make Shame feel somewhat redundant.

It makes more sense to consider Shame  in the Indie rock tradition. In sound, if not presentation, they are only a couple of steps removed from the indie of 2007 – a link made more clear by the record’s producer James Ford, who worked on classic albums by Arctic Monkeys and Foals. Shame lack anything like those bands melodic instinct – very few of these tunes have lodged in my head after multiple listens – but they have a similar intensity, intelligence and self awareness. Ford also produced the best disco album of recent years in Jessie Ware’s ‘What’s Your Pleasure’, and he’s able to unlock a sense of groove on several of the more engaging tracks here. There’s something quite propulsive about ‘Water in the Well’ that makes it sound like a demented Talking Heads song. On ‘Nigel Hitter’ they write perhaps their skinniest hooks to date. The chorus, which is purposefully drilling and repetitive, is sugar laced with poison. PIL would be proud.

There is interesting variety here – you’ll find the moody and introspective ‘Human, for a Minute’ sandwiched between the grotty ‘Snow Day’ and ‘Great Dog’. On these tracks and others, Charlie Steen’s voice can be a blunt tool (the numbing effect is frequently exaggerated by poor lyrics) and Shame are certainly limited by that but he’s an engaging frontman in a live setting. it’s not a flight of fancy to imagine that these songs will come alive once we’re allowed back inside venues. In the mean time, ‘Drunk Tank Pink’ isn’t a bad stop gap.

6.5/10