Joseph Arthur
Come to Where I'm From
[Realworld]
Rating: 7.4
Joseph Arthur wants to be an enigma. I mean, really badly. He wants to be
your unique, personal, do-it-yourself, enigmatic folk/pop singer/songwriter,
and he'll do whatever it takes to get there. He'll cover his album art with
weird, tribal drawings he made himself. He'll play more than just guitar if
you want, sometimes even harmonica. He'll even experiment with different
genres on a couple songs. In his liner notes, Arthur cryptically refers to
himself as "benzo," and gives his supporting musicians equally puzzling
aliases like "darkstar" and "lovehammer." He packs his lyrics with surrealist
imagery that could pertain to traditional love or loss, but what he
really wants is for you to ask: "Is that actually what he means? Could it be
deeper than this?" Yet, as the album's final seconds tick to a close, the
real question at hand ends up being: "Does it matter?"
And the answer? Well, no. But you knew I was going to say that. On his
second full-length, Come to Where I'm From, Arthur's self-imposed
pseudo-enigma status is more easily discarded than decoded. There are enough
solid songwriting chops behind the facade to sustain him, and there's just as
much-- if not more-- to be said for the production. T-Bone Burnett, Rick Will,
and Arthur himself each take co-producer titles, and what results is a raw,
endearing sound that blends each instrument perfectly while remaining crisp
as a bell. It's some of the best production and mixing this side of Tchad
Blake, who also happens to mix two of these songs, probably not all that
coincidentally.
As already established, Joseph Arthur's at his strongest when his ambiguously
mystical lyrics don't get in the way, and most of the time, they don't. In
"Invisible Hands," the line "There are things we cannot know/ Invisible hands
who guide the show/ From up above" doesn't hold significance as a spiritual
revelation, but rather, simply as a way to meld his vocals with the subdued
and effective melody. The track's rhythmic base pulses as Arthur moans and
hums through the track's five minutes while guitars, harmonicas, and subtle
buzzes of feedback float in and out. It's this eerie tone, and not the prose
contained within, that provides him with the mysterious atmosphere he's
tried so desperately to achieve.
And then there are those times when the embittered victim in Arthur spills
haphazardly onto his lyric sheet. On "Creation or a Stain," Come to Where
I'm From's most painful moment, he sort of, well, tries to rap about it.
Actually, it isn't a rap as much as a failed Patti Smith impression. But
whatever it is, Arthur manages an off-the-scale reading on the Rock Bottom
lyricist detector: "I'm a walking crucifixion/ I'm a fucked-up memory." Over
the course of its trying four-minute length, the track condemns all corruption,
and laments the beggars and starving people of the world. And all this over
the same two chords!
Better for Arthur to stick to what he knows best. His most substantial material
doesn't go for the throat, the heart, or even the intellect, but the ears.
"Cockroach," one of Where I'm From's standouts, is built solely on
ambient street sounds, a folksy acoustic guitar progression, and a drumkit
that sounds like it's made of rocks. It seems to recall memories-- possibly
even actual memories-- of bygone days busking on urban street corners.
The song is enhanced by the occasional delayed fuzz lead, supportive female
backing vocals, and the subtle, haunting echo of Arthur's voice as he sings
his heart out with every line.
So I suppose it's safe to let Joe into your home. He's pleasant enough, and
moderately talented. Plus, he's got quite a few nice tunes in his repertoire.
But lay down some house rules first: make sure he sticks to his more musical
material, don't ask him where he gets his lyrics, and never let him make you
call him "benzo." It's not very becoming of him.
-Spencer Owen