Papa M - Whatever, Mortal
(Drag City)
Those following David Pajo's music, release by release, have seen this coming. On Live From a Shark Cage, he made it evident that to make music comfortably, he was going to record it at home, sometimes with friends helping out but sometimes totally alone, perfection of the songs be damned. Then, on Papa M Sings his next curveball came, finding a penchant for singing that took over the direction of his music. On Whatever, Mortal, all these pieces of his previous releases fall together, Pajo singing on almost every song but combining that with music that is still wonderful, the tracks representing a mixed bag of fidelity, some recorded alone beside his humming refrigerator, some recorded in his studio with his friends (Will Oldham, Tara Jane O'Neil, and Britt Walford) forming a backing band.
Last year's Papa M Sings EP was the big clue that this record full of singing was coming, but the style of songs on the two releases is quite different. It's important to note that Papa M Sings wasn't created to be an official release; it just sort of became one. Half of the songs are covers, and all of the EP is pretty much an experiment for Pajo to see how well he can do this whole singing thing. Thus, the overly traditional song styles of the EP are more of an anomaly, and one shouldn't expect this new album to be entirely plain, old folk. He still uses several folk covers on the new album, giving him ready made lyrical source material to work with, but he is able to concentrate more on reworking the songs to his own liking and style instead of just concentrating on the task of getting away with singing. In other words, on this album, the songs are much more beautifully done.
Obviously, that EP gave him a lot of courage, as there is so much singing on this record. However, how does Pajo rate as a singer and lyricist? He is clearly above average, but, really, considering he is one of the greatest guitarists of the past decade, de-emphasizing that in order to incorporate merely above average singing is not a good tradeoff. Lyrically, he makes two or three memorable mistakes. Most notably, on "Sorrow Reigns," he actually sings the words "going down on my penis," and, to make matters worse, the verse doesn't fit rhythmically so he has to force the "penis" in (no pun intended). "Many Splendored Thing" covers the same thoughts and themes of other songs but is much worse lyrically, beginning the song by repeating over and over the cliche, "Love is a many splendored thing," and then ending the song by referencing the song "Dream of the Sea" (The Renderers) that Will Oldham covered on his More Revery EP. (It would have been more enjoyable and clever if he just covered Oldham's cover.)
These two glaring mistakes end up being somewhat trivial in the grand scheme of the album; most of the rest of the album is lyrically well done, at least colorful and often quite poetic. He doesn't have as clear an outlook on how to write lyrics as Will Oldham does, but we shouldn't really expect him to at this point. Perhaps the inclusion of these more quirky songs is similar to Pajo's choice to use lo-fi, kitchen recordings in some places while much of the album is done fairly crisply in his home studio. Obviously someone as skilled at the guitar as Pajo is fully able to move from his kitchen to his studio and recreate the song he just recorded in his kitchen, thus eliminating the tape fuzz and environmental noises, but Pajo sees something in that recording, like "Tamu" with its rapid fingerwork, that makes him just not want to try and redo it. Similarly, anyone who has ever tried to write poetry knows the words don't always come out beautifully; Pajo must be holding more dear the things that encouraged him to write the sappy, silly lyrics than any gains in song quality resulting from writing something better.
Pajo's lyrics spin dark tales of apprehensive or cumbersome loves, often working from traditional folk songs and trying to rework and rewrite them to fit his life and experiences. Many of his tales revolve around not being able to be a good lover because he must spend so much time on the road touring. On "The Lass of Roch Royal," Pajo sings the oft-covered Scottish traditional song, "The Bonny Lass of Loch Royal," asking "Who's going to shoe your pretty little foot... when I'm in that far off land," using this song about going to war to parallel his own tour of duty. The pain of being on the road is also expressed in Pajo's redoing of "Wayfaring Stranger" (here called "Over Jordan") as the song finds him tired and spent, feeling like a "whore," knowing returning home will not be easy but relieved to finally be doing so. "The Unquiet Grave" fits less clearly with Pajo's life as it is a dark tale of young love cut off by death. The imagery of this song is vivid, a conversation passed through the gravestone, knowing that the only reunion can be through the surviving lover's death.
Seeing as so much of the lyrics are just rewrites of old folk songs, one might think the album would lack intimacy, however it doesn't; that intimacy just comes from other places, as well as from the redirected words. Much like the answering machine recording from Live From a Shark Cage, Pajo uses odd found recordings to make his music seem more a part of himself. This time, on "Krusty," behind a lo-fi recording of two beautiful intermingled guitar parts, we are invited to take a seat right beside Pajo on his living room couch, hearing a recording of him watching the Simpsons and laughing. It's a funny choice of background sound (and there's always that chance that Matt Groening will find out and sue as his lawyers have done to every Simpsons website), but it makes it more obvious that this album is a part of Pajo: it is his house, it is his living room, it is his soul, even if he happens to use other people's words sometimes.
There will still be Pajo fans who will rue the day he decided to sing, but there are several instrumental songs and songs where the lyrics are less of a focus on Whatever, Mortal that the album will still be quite enjoyable. "Sabotage" is an excellent song, starting with an ominous pounding of the piano, remiscent of the constant piano theme of Eyes Wide Shut, that turns into a several minute long sitar piece befor other instruments join in again, turning this once dark-sounding song full circle with a bright, staccato guitar part. "Beloved Woman," perhaps the most full rock band sound on the album due to Walford's drums, is also great. Pajo repeats a three note phrase over and over, creating a swirling, unsettling feeling, occasionally breaking out of the uniformity to great, uplifting affect, the song eventually becoming a pretty chorus with organ-sounding keyboards and Oldham's distinctive backing vocals filling out the sound. "Northwest Passage" is quite similar to "Arundel" on Live From a Shark Cage, ending the album with a truly glorious instrumental song, this time taking turns using harmonica, piano, electric guitar, and banjo for main melody with a constant rhythm from an acoustic guitar. A tour de force.
With this attitude towards making music and albums that cherishes awkward creations almost as much as perfect ones, perhaps what Pajo is really doing is working towards creating the new indie rock. Perhaps Lou Barlow is who he wanted to be all along, as all those lo-fi albums from ten years ago had a similar anything-goes spirit. No, it's obvious that Will Oldham is who he wanted to be all along, but, thankfully, on Whatever, Mortal, he incorporates that into his music instead of letting these new elements get in the way of playing the guitar.
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