Califone
Roomsound
[Perishable]
Rating: 8.2
There's something elemental about Califone. The ideas are fragmented but
fundamental. Gravity, blood, warmth, pain, dirt, desire, and decay-- this is
the stuff of this band. Not surprisingly, it never crosses my mind that Tim
Rutili's songs might be "too personal" for me to understand; on the contrary,
I hear in this music an impressive representation of some weird collective
dream that I can take part in. In some ways, I think of Califone more as a
mode of perception than a band.
When I had a chance to speak to Tim Rutili a few years back, I asked him
what he'd been listening to recently. I knew that Califone had played some
shows with Oval, and I was curious to know if he was digging any of the
experimental ambient stuff that had then just started to intrigue me. The
first two things he mentioned were the Anthology of American Folk Music
box set and Bob Dylan's Basement Tapes. I understood that while he had
an interest in technology, nothing was more moving to him than a good song.
With each Califone release, this lean approach becomes more apparent, as the
left-field sonic experimentation of the last Red Red Meat album and the first
EP give way to earthy textures and a reverence for simplicity. Califone's
first full-length, Roomsound, further solidifies this position. The
few tunes that don't feature an acoustic guitar front-and-center highlight
piano instead, and the focus is squarely on the songs. Given Rutili's lyrical
foundation in disjointed mythology, this more grounded approach is a nice fit.
Even more importantly, the craft behind the songs gives them enough muscle to
stand on their own.
"Trout Silk" sets the tone for the album from the first clipped strum. The
title gives an idea of what I'm talking about when I speak of the symbols at
the heart of Califone: two strong words with clear associations that, at first
glance, don't seem to belong together. But then I let my subconscious take
over: could trout silk be that iridescent film that coats the edge of a filet,
binding the muscle to the skin? It's a rich image that suits the song, a
weary folk lament with dark shadings. The only percussion is a muted kick
drum, and a bit of guitar distortion fills the spaces between the acoustic
picking.
"Bottles and Bones (Shade & Sympathy)" is where Rutili indulges his pop gifts,
as he smiths a chorus hook strong enough to hang a deer carcass on. What really
quickens the pulse on this amazing song are the distant background vocals,
simple "oooo's" that sound like a chorus of ghosts humming along with the
changes. As one of the more rock songs on , "Bottles and Bones"
recalls the finest moments off Bunny Gets Paid.
Califone's gradual incorporation of simple keyboard patterns has been a
welcome development over the last two records. "Tayzee Nubb," is a downcast
song that feels somehow more urban than most of the songs here, possibly
because it foregrounds the vaguely cocktail-styled keys. Also, the Brian
Deck studio manipulations make themselves known here, but as with the bulk of
the record, the effects are played down. Though I've always enjoyed the
junkyard orchestra sound he's perfected, I have to admit that the subtlety of
the processing here feels right.
Each of the Califone EPs had one song that absolutely killed me. On the first,
it was "Silvermine Pictures." The second had "Electric Fence." Nothing here
quite matches either of those songs for me, but overall, I'd rank this as
Califone's most consistent record. Roomsound is a 49-minute movie that
consists of one slow pan across an odd, beautiful and ultimately familiar
landscape.
-Mark Richard-San