Review – “The Hurry and the Harm” by City and Colour

City and Colour is definitely a band I use to find common ground with others.  Few can complain about the delicate vocals of Dallas Green, and the more recent efforts have tinged toward more of a classic sound.  The Hurry and the Harm is no exception.  Coming almost two years to the date after the release of Little Hell, the new release picks up right where it left off.

I’ll start by saying that there’s really nothing to complain about in this album.  There were no huge surprises stylistically, and everything from the performance to the production quality is excellent.  At the same time, I didn’t really find anything that connected with me or got me excited.  There are good songs, to be sure, but there are also songs that don’t stand out to me in any way because they sound like music that’s all been made before.  It’s still distinctively City and Colour, but traces remind me of bygone eras.  Fans of artists that gravitate toward sounds of the past will find lots to like on this album, while those hoping for something more modern or innovative may only find other aspects to appreciate.

Most of the songs implement a full-band sound similar to something one might hear in the mid-seventies.  Relatively simple acoustic guitar foundations support bass, electric guitar, and less-than-tight-sounding drums, all while the breathy vocals of Dallas float on top.  As stated, the performances are nearly flawless, but that comes as no surprise.  I believe Green is one of the premier male vocalists of our generation.  Some songs feature a simpler sound with only acoustic guitars and vocals, which come as a welcome break, in my opinion.  Finger-picking sections make up for the somewhat simple-sounding chords that are used elsewhere.  I miss the rich, even dissonant guitar work that characterized City and Colour’s earlier work, but the full-band composition adds complexity and dynamics in a different way.

If I had to choose one thing that I truly enjoyed about the album, it would be the lyrics.  Dallas Green has always had a knack for exploring serious topics.  I’ve always appreciated his ponderings even though I’m relatively certain we hold different world views.  Words like those from the title track exemplify his style of reflective songwriting:

But why are we so worried
More about the hurry
And less about the harm?

Always trying to conquer
That which does not offer
Anything more than a broken heart
Oh, what a cost for love

Other songs similarly explore questions of the human condition.  Personally, I didn’t find as much of a balance between concrete, heart-rending lyrics and deep questioning as in previous records, but I’m an emo-kid at heart; it will be hard to top Sometimes in my eyes.  Still, I applaud them for exploring their artistry and making the music they want to.  I always admire that more than a band that repeatedly churns out whatever sells.

In conclusion, I give The Hurry and the Harm three out of five stars.  It’s certainly a well-executed album, but I didn’t find anything to particularly love.  It will be a nice addition to a mix of City and Colour songs, and some standout tracks such as “The Lonely Life” and “The Golden State” could grow on me over time.  For anyone who is a fan of Dallas Green, it’s an easy decision to go ahead and pick it up.

You can find The Hurry and the Harm on Spotify and Amazon.

Throwback Thursday – “Cosmos” by The Send

Slacks and a button-down shirt.  That was the required attire every day during my 2007 summer internship.  While I am thankful for all that the learning that opportunity afforded, it was an extremely difficult season of my life.  I realized that a career in the corporate world would likely suck all life out of me, but it seemed the only way forward.  This was my last summer.  This was all I had before real life was over, and what awaited seemed to be gray drudgery until the end.  “This is what I have to look forward to / Work until death – a slow descent through / Carbon copy years smeared together,” to quote  a Hilltops and Coffeeshops song we wrote during that season.

But music is often a panacea, soothing so many aches that nothing else can.  Cosmos by The Send arrived at exactly the right time and did just that.  This Throwback Thursday begins like so many others, hearing a single on Radio U.  When my ears first took in “An Epiphany,” the lead single on the album, I almost felt guilty liking it.  There wasn’t any screaming.  There wasn’t anything hardcore about it at all.  There was a piano.  But it was deep.  I loved it.  It’s hard to explain how someone so entrenched in heavy music feels upon discovering soft, somewhat traditional music they appreciate, or at least it is for me.  It felt like it was too “safe” for me to enjoy it.  The album wouldn’t be released until the end of July.

As the long, hot days passed outside, I sat in my frigid cubicle, coding away and listening to new tracks as they were posted on MySpace.  After only one or two more songs, I pre-ordered and waited.  I won’t say that I expected the album to redeem my summer, but I most definitely looked forward to exploring the complex songwriting and production which took on such deep and personal topics.  Nothing in my life seemed to make sense, and there were few glimmers of hope for the years ahead.  I thought Joseph Kisselburgh just might express some of these things I was feeling.  Occasionally on warm June and July nights, I would go to “the secret spot” (an office building construction site) and just pour my fears and hopeless heart out to God.

When the record finally arrived, it was all I had hoped for and more.  Everything was meticulously crafted, both musically and lyrically.  Acoustic guitar would often lead into subtle verses with tasteful electric leads.  Choruses would fill with piano, remarkable drumming, and moving bass lines.  Each song had a distinct depth and feel without crossing over into lightheartedness.  Impressively, Kisselburgh had composed the entire album by himself, which additionally inspired me as a musician.  But most importantly, it spoke to my heart.  I had songs such as “Drown” to capture this dark and despairing time in my life.

I’m tired of this
Do I exist
I’m a ghost and
I’ve been pacing the halls
I’m tired of it

You remind me how
I begin to drown
You’re the only thing
That can save me now
Life has pushed me down
And it let me drown
You’re the only thing
That can save me now

Other tracks such as “Blocking the Sun,” “Begin,” and “Fire Colors” bear equal significance, though only a single song in the entire collection doesn’t address a weighty subject.  In some ways, it has a similar feel as one of my favorite books in the Bible, Ecclesiastes.  The human condition is explored from many angles, ultimately settling on a foundation of faith in a cause much greater.  Time and again I forget about this record only to rediscover it and remember how wonderful it is in every way.  It most certainly has a spot in my top ten list, though sadly it was the sole effort released by the artist before he faded into obscurity.

In conclusion, this album is a timeless masterpiece which probes the depths of man’s heart.  (Yes, I hold it in that high of esteem.)  I think that any fan of profound lyrics paired with complex, rock-tinged music will love this album.  Do yourself a favor and listen to it on a warm summer night under the stars, letting its beauty soak into you completely.

You can find the immaculately crafted songs of Cosmos on Spotify or Amazon.

Review – “Seasons” by Nate Hale

Last year, local Nashville artist and acquaintance Nate Hale posted a Kickstarter to record a new full-length.  Because I enjoyed some of his former work, and I know him to be a talented, humble musician, I contributed to get the digital download when the album was complete.  Seasons was released on April 10th, and I promptly got my copy via Bandcamp.

I’ll be the first to admit that the music on Seasons isn’t quite my normal fare, at least stylistically.  The instrumentation ranges from acoustic guitar to ukulele and beyond, and the tracks span several genres, all while remaining distinctly Hale.  There are even some acapella-inspired vocal harmonies.  Perhaps because of the genres I frequent, I wasn’t used to hearing such a diversity of instrumentation and styles all in one place, but it works well.  The best way I can describe the music is this:  imagine if Jon Foreman and Jack Johnson had a baby, or at least collaborated on an album.  The folk sensibilities and deeper perspective of Foreman would meld with the laid-back feel and subtle vocals of Johnson to create something like Seasons.

Thematically, the album takes on a few topics, though it largely focuses on relationships.  Don’t let that description fool you; this is far from a collection of emo tunes or sappy love songs.  The thing I most enjoy about Nate is that he manages to put a more profound twist into songs which the typical songwriter may leave at surface level.  In many cases, he begins exploring familiar topics, for example drawing the listener in with poetic lines about love, before turning to ponder the true meaning of the word.  Most of the songs stay relatively upbeat and happy, meaning there is ample opportunity to gain listeners who enjoy accessible music, but also want something deeper.  At the same time, tracks like “Dear Alcohol” and “Lullaby” take a more down-tempo approach.

The production is nothing short of professional, and as one who funded the Kickstarter, it’s very satisfying to hear how well it turned out.  Hale and co-producer Cheyenne Medders definitely took their time with these songs, paying attention to the smallest detail to get everything just right.  I’m sure Nate is very proud of what he was able to release, and it surely captures the visions he had for these songs.

Overall, this is a great album for summertime with a mix of upbeat and reflective songs.  Fans of Jon Foreman, Jack Johnson, and the like will find lots of things to love in these eleven tracks.

You can find the meticulously-crafted independent songs of Seasons on Bandcamp or Amazon.

Throwback Thursday – “Cities” by Anberlin

I always appreciate an album that has an “epic” feel to it.  That word is so over-used that it may not describe much anymore, but you know it when you feel it.  You understand when music is taking you somewhere, has a destination, and bears profound importance.  Anberlin’s 2007 release Cities fits the bill.

This is my favorite Anberlin album to this day, over six years later.  I still remember being home on spring break, having my wisdom teeth taken out, and going to pick up this album at Best Buy the next day.  I lay on the brown carpet in the upstairs “band room,” taking in the lyrics from the liner notes as I listened for the first time.  From the eerie, noise-laden opening track, the listener can tell this effort will be serious.  As the journey progresses, there are some pop-accessible tracks such as “Adelaide” which balance the weightiness of “Hello, Alone” and “Unwinding Cable Car,” for better or worse. Of course, it is the more sober songs which drew me in.

Throughout the album, the drums stand out much more than in Anberlin’s previous releases.  In addition to a more prominent place in the mix, the licks of Nathan Young require a dose of technicality.  The guitar parts aren’t incredibly complicated, but the tones and effects used add greatly to the feel of each song.  Perhaps the most impressive aspect of the album to me is the dynamic range.  I don’t mean that songs start out quiet and build to a loud finish, but that the band wrote a collection of songs which covers the whole gamut.  Commonly, a band will throw an acoustic ballad in amid a collection of rock tracks, but Anberlin takes it much further.  They go from full-force anthems to mid-tempo synth-rock to delicate acoustic strumming and beyond.  As opposed to feeling disjointed, the songs actually meld wonderfully.  They stand relatively well on their own, too.  All along, Stephen Christian’s strong tenor delivers, even as he dips into falsetto in the more intricate passages.

The other thing I love is how the simplicity of the title gives a cohesive context to the songs.  The word “cities” conjures notions of traveling, listlessness, and disconnection, being far from home.  Many of the lyrics deal in exactly these avenues.  Some of my favorite lines are from “Dismantle.  Repair.”

One last glance from a taxi cab
Images scar my mind
Four weeks felt like years
Since your full attention was all mine
The night was young and so were we
We talked about life, God, death, and your family
Didn’t want any promises
Just my undivided honesty

Many lines speak of lost relationships or the internal struggle of not being anchored, floating from city to city.  While the band may not have intended this interpretation exactly, it’s what pulls everything into focus for me.  Disconnection.  Drifting.  Cities.

Lastly, the closing track, “Fin,” is the definition of epic.  Clocking in at just under nine minutes, it wanders through simple acoustic verses, wall-of-sound choruses, sparse interludes, and choral refrains.  Anticipation builds and bursts into heavy torrents of rock no less than twice as Christian wails melodically, singing of the “patron saint of lost causes.”  Best of all, Young pushes himself to the limits as he thrashes on the drums, hardly repeating a fill or stroke.  The song closes with spacey vocals, interesting percussion, and a huge power chord ringing out, leaving the listener standing at the edge.

Overall, this is an album worth listening to from beginning to end, journeying with the band through highs and lows, light and dark, before finally resolving on a hopeful note.  It inspired me through the latter part of my college years, and it stands as a monument in Anberlin’s career.

You can find the epic rock of Anberlin’s Cities on Spotify or Amazon.

Thoughts on the arrest of Tim Lambesis

It’s been a weird day.  The front-man of my favorite band, who by all accounts has penned some of the most meaningful lyrics I’ve ever read, was arrested.  When I first saw the headline, I assumed he was taken in for protesting an unjust cause, or violating a noise ordinance at the worst.  (Such was his esteem in my eyes.)  No.  He has been charged with trying to hire someone to murder his estranged wife.  And the evidence seems quite damning.  What do we do with this?  What do I do with this?

I could have told you immediately how mainstream culture would deal with it.  They would revel in the chance to call another Christian a phony, a hypocrite.  And they have.  Main-stream outlets would go out of their way to make sure readers knew he identified himself as a follower of Jesus.  Indeed, some would take the chance to tout the message that all of that heavy metal is “scary” and evil, that it’s no surprise he would do something like this.  But how can I  react when a brother I held in such high esteem has instantly fallen so far?  How should I?

The truth is that the fall wasn’t instant.  Nothing of this magnitude is.  My initial reaction is to want details.  Maybe the police are wrong.  Maybe someone set him up.  Give me details.  But why do we ever want details when it comes to someone else’s wrongdoing?  It’s because we want to judge.  We want to assess whether we would be capable of such an act, and often the more information we have, the more we are able to convince ourselves we aren’t.  The news stories cite that his wife had filed for divorce last September.  We want more details to see who was at fault, to judge who is right and who is wrong.  Details.  They distance us from the heinous acts of others.  But we’ve all done things we didn’t think we were capable of, things we hope no one ever finds out about.  It’s just that the earthly consequences are sometimes heavier, both legally and culturally.

In this particular case, Lambesis had long been a shining light in a genre of music notorious for darkness.  While others wrote songs centered on violence and hatred, he poetically expressed of the plight of the poor, of dying to one’s self for the betterment of others, and of struggling against sin.  For years he had been meek and humble in interviews, even as the popularity of the band exploded.  How much this magnifies his downfall.  I probably have more material from Tim than any other lyricist in my music collection.  Does this negate the impact of those albums full of inspirational words?  Can I ever listen to those songs the same way again?  Some, like “Whispering Silence,” almost seem too close to home.  These words from “Upside Down Kingdom” ring with such truth and profundity, but such hollowness at the same time:

For a kingdom is offered
Beyond that of golden streets
We can represent now
What will one day be complete

More than just writing deep and thought-provoking lines, Tim also seemed to walk the walk.  He and his wife had adopted three children from Ethiopia.  He often used his platform to champion charities and humanitarian efforts.  But this…  It stands in such stark contrast to everything I thought I knew about him.

Someone in a comment thread over at Indie Vision Music put things into perspective for me, at least partially.  “The Lord is my shepherd.  I shall not want.  He makes me to lie down in green pastures.  He restores my soul.”  Stop and think about who wrote that.  The man who composed those verses did have another man killed.  After he slept with his wife.  King David, the man after God’s own heart, who did things that make our skin crawl, wrote the majority of the Psalms.  We study them in quiet time.  We craft prayers and worship songs from them, the words of an adulterous murderer.  God used someone who broke the biggest commandments to create art that turns our hearts toward Him – not just before, but after his downfall and the consequences that came with it.

It will take me a while to process all of this.  But I have to believe that if God can redeem the life of David, he can redeem Tim’s too.