aaamusic | On 16, Nov 2010

Namechecking the legendary Sparklehorse in the press release may earn a few kudos with me as far as acoustic acts go, but I have yet to be won over by many Americana-folk-inspired acts, possibly down to being on the wrong side of the ocean. However, even with a general cynicism towards most softly-softly acoustic outfits, I find a mournful grace and beauty within ‘Monsters Waltz’, James Neill’s new release that cannot fail to caress my ears with innocent, phantom allure.

The opener ‘Hopeful In Red’ is a hushed funereal lullaby, blending the warmest tones of acoustic guitar with whispered confessional tales and static-veiled fragments of conversation which add a ghostly, unsettling atmosphere to the proceedings, as does the echoing multi-tracked vocal treatment, which serves to add edge and nuance to a lulling track. The electric guitar filtering through does the same, choking out an extra dimension of surreal intrigue to an otherwise incredibly gentle track. Similarly, ‘Lullaby (For A Blue-Eyed Girl)’ uses lilting arpeggios alongside fragmented patchwork vocal harmonies to create a chilling yet warm serenade of the softest, sweetest variety. The phantom plea of “don’t be scared” is simultaneously charming and disquieting, but with melodies this heartfelt, the chill is one felt on a snowy day indoors, and the overall sentiment is perhaps overly syrupy yet heartfelt.

‘Once Near The Sacre-Coeur’ is the most spectral track on offer, with a gentle yet gritty distortion added to the guitar tone and harmonica providing mournful harmonies to support the chords and add a sense of distinction, yet the sorrowful melodies, stately tempo and trembling vocals all add together to create the feeling of remembering times long passed into sepia memory, and the end result is comforting yet haunting.

Closer ‘Monsters Waltz’ is a quietly unsettling waltz. The bare-bones acoustic approach grows tiring, but the lively 3/4 time and charmingly shadowed fairytale-life lyricism redeems it, as does the subtle melodicism of the guitar. The subtle blend of vulnerable, almost childlike dark fantasy and quiet acoustic folk pop style brings to mind Chad VanGaalen’s unsettling hushed tales, and the final question: “And as I grow up what kind of man will I be?” are an eerie and striking way to end the collection.

I would say that on the whole this can provide a charming and unusual take on acoustic strummer fare, although I sometimes had to strain my ears to really catch what was going on. This isn’t particularly standout stuff, but what can be found given the time and attention is more than enough to pique interest, even if it does roam into the realms of the indistinct.

Author: Katie H-Halinski