Is it irony or a manifestation of Murphy's Law when a well regarded independent band makes a great album after having left a well-regarded label? It's not an uncommon occurence to see or heara band step up and get a wider notice only to dry up in the spotlight (a good but wildly debatable example would be Sleater-Kinney) but how is it possible that a band can flourish best when it steps back from a larger outlet? This is a perfectly valid question when one considers James Jackson Toth, a.k.a. Wooden Wand; after release a dozen different cassettes and CDR releases that established the singer as an incredible songwriter and performer, a few different labels – including Rykodisc, Universal and Killrockstars – took notice and courted the band. At different times, each released some Wooden Wand material (most often backed by The Vanishing Voice), but it was always of varying quality; Ryko wasn't satisfied with Waiting In Vain and dropped the band and Universal had slightly better luck, perhaps because the parent company left the albums on a smaller imprint (Ecstatic Peace!) but, even so, it could have been better. Of the larger labels to pick up Wooden Wand, the one with the best luck was Killrockstars – where Toth really shone through the releases of Second Attention and Gipsy Freedom but, at that level, Toth was back to being a private pleasure. Not only that, those familiar with the singer's earlier work knew that, really, those albums were only on par with the old tapes and CDRs in spite of the fact that the albums (especially Second Attention) became critically lauded quickly.
Having stepped back from anything resembling larger scale attention now though, of course Toth has put out the single greatest album of his career (so far) in Death Seat. True to its' title, the album is a slightly darker shade of folk/rock, but instantly noticeable is the pristine clarity of it and the obvious care taken to present a full and totally unique sound apart from anything that has come before it.
From the opening of “Sleep Walking After Midnight” fans will excitedly note the marked difference that Death Seat represents in the context of Wooden Wand's sound to date. Strikingly clear and tidy (many of the band's other releases have been dogged by muddled or tinny sounding production), “Sleepwalking After Midnight” positively shimmers as Toth (joined on the mic by his backing players) seems to come back into himself singing of arms wide open and tattered, terrycloth dreams. The delivery is methodical in tempo and romantic at heart, and easy to fall under the spell of – an effect Wooden Wand fans are accustomed to but haven't felt so easily or quickly in a while. The procession begun by “Sleepwalking After Midnight” continues through the trepidation and oddly swirling acoustic movements of “The Mountain” (instruments appear and vanish suddenly – it's unsettling) and the sadly beautiful soul of “Servant To Blues.” Each of those songs (this becomes a reoccurring design through the rest of the record too) begins with simple and stark guitars and Toth's own voice almost as an introduction before the song is built up and filled out with additional vocals and instruments which creates a dramatic progression twelve times over through this runtime. Because of that, listeners find their hearts and souls being fed so well that, as each song ends, listeners feel that much warmer – even if it does get a little delirious along the way (check out “The Arc” for the best example of that).
In the end, as “Tiny Confessions” passively fades its' way out with a 'peace in the valley' sort of vibe, listeners will find themselves following the song out, perfectly satisfied with the experience. As good as Toth's records may have been over the years, it's unlikely that any fan could say they've done that before; there has always been some little thing slightly left of center or left out completely that keeps fans a bit hungry. Not so with Death Seat though, this album is a full and gratifying course.
Artist:
www.woodenwand.org/
www.myspace.com/woodenwand
Album:
Death Seat is out now. Buy it here on Amazon .
Joining a roster that tugs between roots-based music and reeling noise punk on Thurston Moore's Ecstatic Peace Records, the newly inducted James Toth has taken sides and forged ahead without a look back over his shoulder. Dropping the ever-changing latter half of his moniker (be it "the Vanishing Voice" or "the Sky High Band") and prefaced by a self-reflexive nod to Toth's own exploration of understatement, the thusly entitled Wooden Wand's James and the Quiet bears itself unembellished in every manner. While Toth's discography was never cluttered to begin with, it has definitely been wrought with the weird in the occasional pan flute and wah-wah bend; and Wooden Wand surprisingly wrings out this signature bizarre sound on his latest release. Orchestrated by an uncomplicated array of acoustic guitars and a muted rhythm section, it's a show of stripped musicianship unusual of the band, and one that amounts to some pretty regular sounding stuff. However, the notion of "naked" is key to understanding this Wooden Wand record: by adopting the unembellished oddities of freak folk and dropping the sonic fuss of heaped sounds, Toth's control over the aural intimacy and narrative of Wooden Wand surfaces strong and carries through newfangled and true.
Wakened by the prismatic strumming of the guitar in "The Pushers," the album flaps back saloon doors and steps out to a dusty frontier of worn wood and lone horsemen, a place as grim and empty as Wooden Wand's orchestral structure. It's a place where we "laugh out the devil." Luckily the music isn't as clichéd as the setting I've got playing out in my head. Heralding the sleepy likes of Neil Young, the reeling imagination of Bob Dylan, among other folk rock stompers, the album's country plunk cuts with an edge of cynical rebellion sung too weary to be trite.
The band's graceful knack for subtle detail is simultaneously the most and least salient aspect of the work. Throughout the album the snare jangles like the spurs on a heavy cowboy foot stamp and the grizzly lines of guitar resonate with the electricity of a countdown before Western showdown. The thin vocal backdrop of Jessica Toth further adds fine detail with a voice just brushed with ash, a soft gauze below Toth's own snarl. The details always work harmoniously to construct the world of Wooden Wand's austere frontier, but these details, which evoke the stuffy, dry, desert heat, are muted in that stifling atmosphere.
The album ends beautifully, unwinding the deliberate heft that yokes the whole album in the final track "Wired to the Sky." Like relief after a daylong squint at the dust-scrubbed sun, this last song settles like welcomed twilight. And it does so with the gruff peace of a father creaking his infant to sleep out in the dark. Closing on a lingering lullaby, James and the Quiet balances out the gravel with an exhale of soft and sweet slumber.
Truth of it is, James and the Quiet is a different animal—but it’s a change that has a right to claim. Wooden Wand is toeing the silvery fine line between being boring and being understated, and admittedly at times the album leans toward the former. On the whole, however, Wooden Wand brings you close and brings you somewhere clear. Whispering, it takes you to sanded dunes and wind-worn towns and gets you acquainted with some of forsaken folks in there. The album's uncanny ability to hone in on this rugged world works because the music is not just bare, but deliberately barren, and the naked aspect of the arrangement tells a narrative of grim-lipped hardship and mysterious humanity. Quiet as it comes, you've got to lean in for this Wooden Wand album, but its got rewards for those pay heed to the tales.
Wooden Wand on MySpace: www.myspace.com/woodenwand
