Free
folk oddball Devendra Banhart appeared out of nowhere
in 2002 with a first album, Oh Me Oh My, which
collected a series of lo-fi acoustic songs recorded
on a variety of devices, including answering machines
and Dictaphones, while travelling around the world.
Far from betraying his music, this resolutely cheap-sounding
debut helped crystallise his uncanny talent for oblique
story telling and knack for beautifully crafted melodies.
With interest rapidly gathering pace, he toured the
US extensively before retreating in rural Georgia to
record a series of songs collected in the sister albums
Rejoicing In The Hands and Niño
Rojo, released in spring and autumn 2004 respectively.
Born in Texas at the beginning of the eighties, Banhart
moved back to his parents’ native Venezuela as
a child before following his mother to California as
a teenager. He enrolled at the San Francisco Art Institute
but dropped out before completing his degree to concentrate
on music and travelling.
Cripple Crow, his new opus, was recorded with
regular accomplice Andy Cabic, Noah Georgeson and Thom
Monahan during winter 2005. Although the brushed acoustic
atmospheres still very much define the songs on this
album, there is a definite move toward a more ambitious
sound all the way through, with additional layers of
orchestrations applied around the omnipresent guitar
and voice. If this undeniably gives his music a more
approachable feel, it doesn’t mean that the songs
are anymore polished. This however provides the perfect
platform for Banhart’s fast-developing flair for
weird and beautiful melodies and words. If songs such
as Santa Maria Da Feira, Queenbee
or How About Tellin’ A Story remains
firmly set on Banhart’s original DIY-folk territory,
Heard Somebody Say, Long Haired Child
or Some People Ride The Wave all benefit of
a more varied approach and, in the case of Inaniel,
I Love That Man or Luna De Margarita,
the simple addition of a melancholic violin in the background
reveals the true bohemian nature of Banhart's music.
Humour is an important element of Devendra Banhart’s
music, and Cripple Crow showcases some interesting
manifestations of this, from The Beatles, with
its rampant Mexicanalia, to the absurd Chinese Children
or the hilarious Some People Ride The Wave.
Yet, Banhart always treats humour as a mean rather than
a goal, which allows him to remain credible at all time
and never affects the more gentle side of his work.
And if he is not shy of putting his human feelings and
emotions on display, it is once again to act as part
of a more complex set of components in his songs. These
contradictions are at the centre of his work and provide
the necessary cement to maintain an element of coherence
running through.
More mature and sophisticated than its predecessor,
Cripple Crow swaps in part the delicate acoustic
constructions of previous records for more elaborate
tones. If this sometimes means that the raw innocence
that characterises his previous records is pushed in
the background to favour slightly more adult environments,
Banhart retains the essence of his offbeat pop and gives
it a new backdrop to evolve.
4.2/5 |
