Knotworking
Notes Left Out
[One Mad Son; 2002]
Rating: 4.4
Traditional Pitchfork jurisprudence dictates that, should an artist
sound a great deal like his influences, his music will often stand or
fall on the quality of those influences. If the influences are deemed
credible and prudent, the music produced in the wake of them will
stand, unless: 1) it is a cheap ripoff; 2) a commercialized update;
3) shitty. Examples of influences that generally enjoy deference
include the Beatles, Can, and the Velvet Underground.
Other influences, should they surface in a modern artist's music,
must be subjected to more rigid scrutiny. These are artists whose
aggregate work product amounts to two good songs on a box set, or one
on a greatest hits compilation. These are the fads, six-hit wonders,
and bygone anachronisms from the pop-rock of old. Most never recorded
any decent music in the first place, and the very fact that an artist
actually knows their full catalog nearly sounds the death knell by
itself. Examples of influences subjected to strict scrutiny criticism
include the Grateful Dead and Aerosmith. Instances in which evidence
of these influences will stand are rare, but they do exist. For
example, an apparent Duran Duran influence may survive a Pitchfork
review if it is stunningly ironic.
You can squint until your eyes are shut, but you just won't find the
irony in Knotworking. Edward Gorch, lead singer and songwriter of
the Albany, NY folk-pop outfit, has chosen for himself without a
doubt one of the most irredeemable and least advisable influences in
the history of rock and roll. For as popular as Cat Stevens was in
his heyday, it seems that, in modern times, he's about as relevant as
an abacus. His music, while a staple for weed-loving audiences in the
70's, has thus far managed to evade any influence on younger
weed-loving generations. And Gorch has clearly listened to several
albums by Allah's chosen pop icon. Unfortunately, his choice of
influences also means that, as a matter of rote Pitchfork
constitutionalism, he was doomed from the outset: the voice and
lyrical melodrama are straight from the Cat himself. Moreover, since
Gorch obviously doesn't have the same sort of production budget at
his disposal, the orchestration and musicianship are relatively
simple, leading not only to average music, but consistently
average music.
It's really a hard presumption for Gorch to overcome. He tries--
"Imbecile Smile" is solid proof that the man isn't without talent of
his own. But even then, the power of the song is drawn solely from a
crescendo of instrumental dissonance, not from the strength of the
melody. "Lawn Plastic Santa," on the other hand, has a decent guitar
hook and vocal melody, but employs dreadful song structure, repeating
the same verse-chorus-bridge pattern over and over a good five or six
times. As for the aforementioned Stevens idolatry, the pinnacle
comes on "Manuel," where Gorch's voice fully morphs into Cat's
trademark whinny.
In the end, Gorch offers little to redeem his choice of influences.
Yes, he puts his own folksy downtempo spin on things, but when you're
dealing with shitty music, simply slowing it down isn't a huge
improvement. Accordingly, this album must be found wanting. In the
future, Gorch would do well to stock up on indie-approved influences
like Nick Drake and Tom Waits, because the current formula is
definitely "knotworking."
-Brad Haywood, May 15th, 2002