John Vanderslice
Romanian Names
Rating: 3.0
Label: Dead Oceans
Romanian Names is, astoundingly, the seventh LP this decade from John Vanderslice, matching the output of his brother in arms and frequent collaborator John Darnielle of The Mountain Goats. Seeing them out on tour this year, it’s easy to observe why both are so prolific. With equal force, each man veers in an opposite direction. Darnielle is the brunet Omega Man, chronicling bygone wars of self-flagellating love and desperation. Blond and lanky, Vanderslice can be found on the other side of the coin, an artist who acknowledges the hard truths but chooses to walk on the sunny boardwalks of human nature while thinking things over. From this tale of the tape, it’s no surprise that the final album of the decade from the fair haired Vanderslice is set around summertime and, above all else, is a love record.
Vanderslice always has a pleasant breeze surrounding him that doesn’t diminish his complex inner monologue. Some of that comes with a hard won reputation of being a genuinely nice guy, but it carries over to his music seamlessly. Since breaking away from MK Ultra, his albums have used simple melodies and toasty annunciation to depict determined loners, misguided dreamers and, in the case of his last two masterworks Pixel Revolt and Emerald City, political confusion of the mind and heart. While Romanian Names does not feature Vanderslice’s best writing in an already amazing career, it balances out by being his most accomplished effort as a musician.
Syncopated melodies and complex percussion add to some of his best singing as Vanderslice shares the vocal spotlight with Laura Dean on many tracks, including the dazzling “C&O Canal,” a tale of misfired triangulation by a scorned ex-boyfriend. There’s always a lot going on instrumentally in any one of his efforts, but Vanderslice and longtime production associate Scott Solter texture an album that goes in a thin straight line by dialing down violins, horns and even pump organs to each tool’s narrowest strength. What’s left is a lean and quick record that captures the best vocal takes and each studio musician at their strongest. An exclamation point for this back to basics approach is the title track, which only has Vanderslice singing and on solo acoustic guitar for less than two minutes. Simplicity also greatly aides the West coast jazz pianos and drums that give the celestial musings of “Carina Constellation” most of its blood.
Most of the album is structured as a warm weather investigation into lost love rather than an examination of why the same affection is resplendent. Really, that’s where Vanderslice has always been as a lyricist, fascinated with the driven and obsessed. But on Romanian Names the destination is only an ornament. Much of the narratives are about characters who are, by their own admission, hopelessly lost. Not all of it works equally well. “Too Much Time” is nice but familiar in some troubling ways. “Summer Stock” also tries to fatten up the song’s texture with more experimental electric guitars but falters halfway through by exhausting its own nighttime texture too soon. However, “Hard Times” hits the nail more precisely by being detail-oriented. We get a better grasp of names places and the chronology of loss, almost like watching a sad photograph develop.
A throwback to years past, Vanderslice fixes his attention towards runaway cult members on “D.I.A.L.O,” serving as a literal sequel to his figuratively titled solo debut Mass Suicide Occult Figurines. It’s not a relationship song in the traditional sense, but is instead a depiction of the absence of group love and fulfillment. Because Vanderslice is a nice guy, there’s never any condescending attitude or reproachfulness targeted towards any his characters, even lowly ex-devil worshipers are given their due as confused victims. The understanding he shares with those on the fringe and a willingness to back them up is noble and a little touching at times. Romanian Names is a good record because Vanderslice doesn’t fail these outsiders and uses everything possible to back them up with lush and considerate music.
by Neal Fersko
