Black Heart Moon
Lovers and Makers
Rating: 3.0/5.0
Label: Braid & Tangle
Black Heart Moon’s debut album, Lovers and Makers, is so evocative of a Portland summer night that it’s difficult to separate the two in my mind. That said, the band, composed of Catherine Odell (of indie darlings Horse Feathers), Perry Pfister, David Dyas and Dan Galucki, will have to work extremely hard to avoid comparisons to Cowboy Junkies. Their basic sound shares so many similarities that it’s difficult to not to immediately associate the two; ethereal, yet rootsy female vocals, droning lap steel and acoustic guitars all combine into dreamy, simple music.
Not that that’s a bad thing- simplicity can be a strength in many songs and many an unwary band has ruined a release by insisting on complexity and density as some kind of symbol of maturity. Black Heart Moon is the sound of hammocks and porches in the night, a kind of soundtrack for quiet evening in which nothing much happens and much is thought about. Of course, this does lend itself to a certain formula; each of the songs on Lovers and Makers has a similar feel and dimension. It’s not so much lack of creativity as a style.
The album opens with the evocatively named “Palace Stairs,” Dyas’ lap steel a keening introduction to Odell’s voice and slow, pounding drums. Odell sounds both wounded and husky, the lyrics (“I will be the quiet one/ Hoping you’ll find me“) sounding weathered, yet yearning. “Paper Plane” begins with an almost jaunty guitar line over hissing cymbals- it sounds propulsive, mimicking the motion of the lyrics. Both songs are melancholy, but hopeful. Despite the gently saddening sounds and the sense of quiet desperation in Odell’s voice, there’s also an optimism and fearlessness that is affirming and disarming.
One of the highlights of the album, “Those Days Are Gone,” stands out from the rest simply by virtue of variety. Electric guitars roar more loudly than anything else on the record, while the lap steel soars and vague distorted voices mutter in the background. When Odell finally intones “You will die someday/ And you might try to say/ You’re sorry but those days are gone/ And our time is come,” it’s both tragic and cathartic. The rest of the album can’t quite match up to it, but their low mark runs not as deep as the highest high.
Hopefully, Black Heart Moon will not be relegated to the status of a local favorite; they’ve got a solid, accessible sound and great presence on record. Lovers and Makers is a fine first release and I can only hope that we get to hear a second one in time for another summer.
by Nathan Kamal
