Ben Davis - The Hushed Patterns of Relief
(Lovitt)
Emo's coffins lay quiet and empty, as many of the now grown
up kids that populated its aural landscape never bothered to
move to New York or California and try to accumulate piles
of worthless stock options, but rather have quietly continued to
make music, doing so in decidedly un-emo manners. Next in the queue
is Ben Davis whose prior contributions to the musical arena
were entirely on the more hardcore end of the emo spectrum with
bands like Milemarker and The Sleepytime Trio. His
new solo album, The Hushed Patterns of Relief, finds him settled
in a stable hometown adapting to his new position of big daddy, his
newfound quiet and relaxed music being the polar opposite of his
past forms.
Davis is still a punk songwriter, mind you, he's just composing
in his bedroom at night alone instead of in the basement on
a Saturday afternoon with a couple other guys. Davis still focuses
on making great riffs, using repetition to draw the listener into
the song, and then using abrupt changes in form or volume to keep
the songs interesting and evolving. Songs, despite being quieter
works of a solo artist, are still full and layered, the thick sound
and repetition-based writing reminding one of the bands of Pall
Jenkins, Three Mile Pilot and the Black Heart Procession.
Like the Black Heart Procession, Davis' music are piano and
guitar driven dirges with Davis singing pleasantly but only with
the top of his throat, creating airy, high-pitched tones. It's
easy to tell that most of these songs started on the piano and
were expanded as more people joined Davis in the live setting.
The result are songs with not just one theme, but multi-layered
songs, starting in the middle with a main theme from the lead
instrument and voice and expanding outward with drums, backing
guitars, violin, lap steel, and other instruments. A song that
may start as a simple, repetitive riff, when filled out and
expanded becomes something much more interesting due to all the
accompanying parts, creating very thick, rich music.
Lyrically, however, Davis is much less strong.
When you're yelling and "emoting," you don't really have to be much
of a poet; you just have to say what's on your mind. Now that
Davis has mellowed out, he's totally trying to be more of
a poet to fit with his new adult, post-daddy style. He's
gotta represent for the Davis household, yeah, yeah, and if he
can't write a nice, poetic, rhyming lyric, then what will his kid
think? Unfortunately, Davis is not a poet and probably will never
be one. The harder he tries to write lyrics, the more he commits one
of the worst crimes possible, hyper-rhyming, making some of his
lyrics trite.
"I tried, just a little bit, I cried, just a little
bit, I died, just a little bit, I think I'm in love, you were
sent from above." Okay, those last two lines aren't actually
in the song "Your Terms Are Now Mine," but they might as well be;
it wouldn't make Davis' words any less unintentionally hilarious.
Songs like "Wrestling Won't Help" are not any better either, as
Davis comes up with a nickel or dime word like "veneer" but
then rhymes it with the most obvious "eer" words possible, "fear"
and "hear." The simpler Davis keeps the lyrics, the better off
he is, like when he rhymes "more" with "more" on "Poised and
Determined" or on "Finally I Stand" when he just repeats "You
don't like it at all" over and over again, creating a Loftus-style
anthem.
Fortunately, Davis' lyrical misguidings thus far only come off
as funny and do little to distract from what is really excellent
music underneath. When Davis hits a key verse, it still sticks
with you, like on "Poised and Determined" when he sings "Go away,
make me miss this more" as the two-note piano riff blossoms into
something more beautiful. As a young man suddenly thrust into
being an expectant father, lyrics like this provide an interesting
insight into what he went through, showing his reluctance to turn
into something more grown up, responsible, and more like a wussy.
Oh, if only all those old hardcore kids could see Davis now! They
would probably kick him in the pants and call him names like "Oldie
Mc Oldenpants," laughing at his wimpy singing and wimpy music
and how much he "loves" his "kid."
Fortunately, most of those old hardcore kids have probably
gotten to be as old and wimpy as Davis has; they'll probably like his
soft and easy, daddy-style just as much as the screamer of
years past. Me, I've always been a wimp... Davis' new music suits
me fine.
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