Eskimo Snow
It turns out the track Pitchfork released a number of weeks ago was quite representative of Why?’s new album as a whole.
“This Blackest Purse” is Eskimo Snow in a microcosm: heavy on the piano and sombre in its sentiment. It marks a continued slide away from the morbid jocularity seen on the group’s last two albums, the lyrics outlining a seemingly-genuine sense of dire self-awareness, aging, and impending death.
Those undercurrents run through every song in this cycle; quite a feat, considering it was pretty much entirely recorded during the sessions for Alopecia, the songs broken up into two records during mixing. Its clear why a delineation had to be made, as there is nothing here that approaches the dizzying pop heights of “Fatalist Palmistry” or the dark storytelling of “the Hollows” or “These Few Presidents.” The group is pretty much leaving hip-hop behind completely, bringing a close to the transformation that has been slowly progressing through Elephant Eyelash and Alopecia, swinging into indie rock territory and prettying up their tunes. There is almost no programmed beats or drum machines on these songs, giving the album a warmer, more organic tenor. Most significantly Wolf sounds world-weary and resigned on many of these tracks, like he’s seeing the end of something big just ahead of him.
But he’s in no hurry to get there. The tempo of the album is slowed way down, like the band downed a few bottles of cough syrup before they started writing. Nearly all the songs save the last track are arranged around Wolf’s piano parts, dour and minor key as a whole (ironic, as an alternate “sock hop” version of the title track was released earlier this year on a Tiny Mix Tape compilation, replete with pianos). The combination of the two almost makes it seem like Wolf wrote the album in the midst of one long migraine headache, not wanting to extend himself too far or turn the volume up too loud. “Eskimo Snow” and “One Rose” feature gently finger-picked acoustic guitar, glock, even some atmospherics and synthesized strings. Hell, even the percussion is frequently scaled back; while each song boats live drums, malleted toms and cymbals give the rhythm section on several songs a plodding, wide bottom end.
“Into The Shadows of My Embrace” and “Against Me” bring the tempo up, the former also hewing the closest to Alopecia’s lyrical tone. Wolf dips back into the shameless confessionals, describing how his neighbours can hear him masturbating, how he made out with his shrink, and the discovery of an animal carcass at an old home. But while it gives a hint of the familiar to long-time listeners it also sticks out like a sore thumb to some extent, with Wolf even catching himself from actually spitting out the inevitable conclusion to one of his least-challenging lines. But while its a bit more playful than the other songs, it still centers around death, crippling insecurity, and Wolf’s general lack of emotion.
Now don’t get me wrong, its not as though nebulous existential queries about life, death, and the downward spiral haven’t been asked on previous records; its more that they’ve never seemed so resigned or hopeless as they do here. Wolf is constantly talking about what will happen when he’s gone, about the inevitable degradation a person’s body goes through on a day-to-day basis, or the way in which a man should die. He opines on the fragility of man, insisting that even the most pleasurable moments of life have detrimental effects, equating sex to walking and smoking at the same time. Dark thoughts abound outside of the big sleep, of course; Wolf also expresses some inner turmoil about himself, how he feels being seen as an artist, and the struggle people feel trying to be comfortable with their body. At one point he compares lovers to matchbox cars lost in the brush for years, covered with moss when they’re finally exposed to the world.
And yes, the dude can still turn one hell of a phrase. “Against Me” is downright replete with them. “The rain doesn’t respect state lines, why would you?” he asks rhetorically before launching into the significantly less-elegant, “I’ve heard electricity can travel up your piss stream.” Perhaps the most shining example of the tenor and content of the album as a whole is the churning, “One Rose,” where he laments his very existence. “I got jumped into living by a coven of midwives,” he complains, having already insisted that, “A man should die gaunt/and not bloated and overdone/there should be new words hidden/in the shadows on his face/and like a wine glass/in a perfect pitch/he breaks.” And just when you think you’re heading into an uplifting chorus he hits you with the even more bleak, “And always one rose grows through a littered lot of gravel/or we’re struck dumb and doomed when it doesn’t.”
“One Rose” also happens to kick off what is possibly one of the greatest back halves of an album I’ve heard in the last ten years. Its sparse finger-picking, malleted drums, and elegiac tone leads into the driving, tacked-piano of “On Rose Walk, Insomniac.” “Berkley By Hearseback” is just as lovely musically as the wordplay of the title is, its own overriding pallor of death contrasted by the sprightly guitar figures, building percussion, and a rare uplifting vocal melody. “This Blackest Purse” has the sombre keys of Ben Folds’ darkest moments (according to Pitchfork anyway). “Eskimo Snow” features slighty reverb-treated acoustic guitar picking, airy, muggy keys and Wolf’s most naked vocal yet. It reads like a hopeless tale of loneliness, a desperate man hurling his each and every prayer and private thought into the public without really understanding why or how it will help. A person who’s searching for answers inside himself and coming up empty.
Eskimo Snow is a very difficult listen, there’s no getting around that. It’s different even for a band that cut its teeth on being different. It’s depressing as shit if you let it get to you, but at the same time so disarmingly beautiful you’ll keep coming back for more. Astounding.
Why? - Berkeley By Hearseback [3:40m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download Why? - On Rose Walk, Insomniac [2:08m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | DownloadWhy? albums are most definitely freely available from Anticon Records’s web page and iTunes, as always.
