Cass McCombs
Catacombs
Rating: 3.5/5.0
Label: Domino Records
Troubadours are a little harder to come by in recent times: not just in the sense of a musician traveling from place to place, but one who seems untethered by any sense of time and place. Cass McCombs has done his best in recent years to fill the gap by traveling the lower 48 states in search of new sounds and philosophies towards music.
True to his restlessness, Catacombs shows McCombs toning down much the reliance on modern electric guitar that defined his previous efforts and instead focusing on a swaying style of music that stretches far past his own lifetime. Wood blocks, shakers, pianos, slide guitar and a stand-up bass encompass his new rhythm section, recalling the late 1940s Opry sound with a little bit of Texas swing added when a plugged-in guitar is used. Folk is still the bread and butter of his basement tape approach, but now he’s discovered a large but modest lens through which to filter the same intimacy.
This is not to say that modernity doesn’t peak its head through. McCombs’ lyrical humor and low treble singing style are thoroughly on pace with contemporary singer-songwriters. There’s also a modern tightness and open-faced emotional power to his approach that complements his well-honed singing style. He doesn’t have a superhuman voice like many of the saints and demons of freak folk, which actually helps him inject an accessible personality into older styles without seeming anachronistic. For example, “Dreams Come True Girl” has a throwback dream pop quality to it that recalls Roy Orbison while poking a little fun at the dire outlook of the same kind of songs. He’s even wrangled 1970s movie icon Karen Black to add vamped up backing vocals and appear on the song’s haunting music video. Now, that’s a commitment to style worth getting behind, and one that’s continued with the meringue bounce of “Prima Donna” and “Don’t Vote” in short order. These songs only encompass a fraction of the record, but they show a new way forward for McCombs that adds more spirit to his songwriting.
Mostly though, things are more twangy and downbeat. “Executioner’s Song” sounds like something The Wrens might write if they took up country ballads. McCombs stretches an economy of language and double meaning on the mundane longing of a man who kills to put food on the table. “Harmonia” takes the same outlook and expands it to the slow pain and melancholy of a backwater New Jersey burgh, though things do become more throbbing and percussive with the Grateful Deadness of “Jonesey Boy” and “Lionkiller Got Married.”
References and well-worn songwriting tropes might paint Catacombs into a corner for some, but it shouldn’t close anyone’s mind towards the growth McCombs has shown on this record. Through minor musical additions and confidence in his own low-key abilities, the forward momentum of his arrangements points to better songs on the horizon and pretty good ones on the road right now. This is refreshing in the singer-songwriter trade, where an outsized vision to pursue orchestral greatness seemingly comes with the territory. In all of McCombs’ travels it’s likely he’s found musical story lines far and wide, but the yearning need for pretension doesn’t seem to be part of his vocabulary.
by Neal Fersko
