Lambchop - Aw Cmon
(Merge)
Lambchop - No You Cmon
(Merge)
Lambchop is like a leisurely stroll around a scenic neighborhood filled with stories and sounds that pleasantly ease the senses on a sunny Sunday afternoon over a long weekend. Their latest twin dynamos are no exception, providing an abundance of styles as well. With over a decade of formal recording to their credit, the group took a rather unusual approach this time around by releasing two full-lengths simultaneously, Aw Cmon and No You Cmon. While the former might carry a few of the slower swingers, the latter is an equally remarkable collection of songs that mingle between genres without knocking over any drinks. Finding any filler among these two-dozen selections is difficult to do.
Aw Cmon begins with a lolling gait in “Being Tyler” courtesy of Matt Swanson’s melodic bass before a swell of strings introduces this opening instrumental, one of many that are spread across both albums. The mood is decidedly uplifting as the song progresses, a genuinely happy way to open a record. The subsequent two ballads demonstrate the signature country soul that Lambchop has finely honed, if not invented altogether. “Four Pounds in Two Days” is a brief lyrical excursion before “Steve McQueen” delivers the real goods, highlighting the frank introspection of Kurt Wagner that serves as a steadfast catalyst behind the band’s subtle yet insistent appeal. Orchestral adornments appear once again, but they only serve to intensify an already moving arrangement featuring the lithe piano excellence of Tony Crow. “The Lone Official” is an upbeat instrumental with several sections that flow together seamlessly thanks to Sam Baker’s brushwork on the drums. Kurt duets with Deanna Varagona on the chorus of “Something’s Going On,” another piece where strings provide an unexpectedly fitting flourish. “Nothing But A Blur From A Bullet Train” maintains the mellow feel with a lengthy outro that blends into “Each Time I Bring It Up It Seems To Bring You Down,” which has a short hook reminiscent of a carousel. The instrumental “Timothy B. Schmidt” follows, restoring the buoyant stride of the earlier tracks with guitars providing the impetus. “Women Help To Create The Kind Of Men They Despise” comes off as a new lounge classic being sung by a crooner in a smoky bar. “I Hate Candy” picks up the pace once more while asking, “Where’s my little trouble girl?” Acoustic guitar stands out on “I Haven’t Heard A Word I’ve Said,” with the vocals leading the other instruments at a leisurely cadence. The vibes of Paul Burch, Jr., drift to the forefront in “Action Figure,” closing the first album.
Not surprisingly, No You Cmon starts much like its counterpart; with a rollicking ditty entitled “Sunrise” that practically emits radiant sunbeams from the speaker coils. The pedal slide contribution really sends it over the top, an almost wistful reflection that adds to this positively cheery number. In contrast, “Low Ambition” reestablishes the relaxed rhythm, allowing for a building tension in the closing measures. “There’s Still Time” elegantly waltzes across the room as several guitar lines bubble and flutter, then shifts into a refrain of “Cover the floor, same as before” that leads straight to the solos. Plucked and swiftly bowed strings recall Curtis Mayfield moments with a salutatory tip of the hat. An uncharacteristically raucous tune, “Nothing Adventurous Please” shows that Lambchop is capable of unleashing the occasional barnstormer (or hearkening back to their roots). “The Problem” is a brief jaunt, while “Shang A Dang Dang” shakes and rolls to smooth out the rattle. The tempo remains brisk during “About My Lighter” before shuffling into the more soulful strut of “Under A Dream Of A Lie,” which sounds as clever as the title. The hopping instrumental “Jan. 24” sets up the brief rock intro to “The Gusher,” before continuing as a jazzy bossa nova that gets hips to swivel, even before the guitar and piano let loose. The power chords at the end mimic “Paranoid” and again hint at the force that Lambchop chooses to restrain more often than not. “Listen” is an earnest ballad with a pedal steel solo that hits all the right notes with touching results. The finale is another fine instrumental called “The Producer,” a possible nod to Mark Nevers, whose vaunted engineering skills are in clear evidence throughout both albums.
For even the casual Lambchop fan, the idea of buying one record without the other would be fairly pointless, as both are remarkably consistent while offering a variety of styles to sample. Together, the set should command a 23/24, held back by little more than the fact that this band has yet to release its finest masterpiece. In the meantime, these frequent near-perfects are testament to a group of extremely talented musicians forming musical bonds that extend beyond mere band-chemistry. The songs are vibrant and beautiful, crafted with care, and bristling with an understated melancholy that is accompanied with a soothing smirk. There may be a sadness present, but it only accentuates the positive.
|
