Alas, Alas’ debut self-titled LP is evocative and full of imagery, worth the listen
Alas, Alas’ debut self-titled LP is evocative and full of imagery, worth the listen
[UPDATE: Live audio of Alas, Alas' "Whiskey Town" by Jeremy Kleider]
by D. Sykes
Alas, Alas offers a kind of music now very familiar to Twin Cities audiences, a traditional Americana sound that embraces the ragged edges common to hardscrabble traveling musicians. Like many groups you can find at quieter basement shows and stages like the Acadia, they adopt a loose, living-room jam feel, like a bunch of hipster kids who got a hold of their granddad’s fiddle collection—however, Alas, Alas set themselves apart from the vast run of these groups through sheer songwriting quality and musical talent, as evidenced on their debut self-titled LP.
Alas, Alas forego the minimalism of much anti-folk for a ramshackle, wall-of-sound approach, reminiscent of a hung-over Beirut playing in a living room somewhere in Arkansas. At more intense tempos, as on “Whiskey Bound,” they remind one of the alt-bluegrass of Duluth’s Trampled by Turtles. At times the similarities border on appropriation, but there’s only so many chord progressions and picking patterns in the traditional Americana idiom.
They avoid the meandering jamming that’s fast becoming a common element of the subgenre, wisely choosing to instead pepper their songs with novel, perfectly timed fills and mercurial dynamics. The longer songs would be at risk of sounding repetitive if not for this variety of execution. The band members obviously have a tight musical bond and a strong understanding of one another’s styles, something no amount of production or polishing can fake.
“Opium” begins with an introductory attack of crazed strings and machine-gun banjo before settling into a pace more appropriate to its namesake intoxicant, and boasts a clever lyrical hook—“There’s a black dragon / Draggin’ me down.” While the lyrics throughout the album don’t offer much in the way of unfamiliar concepts (who amongst us can’t relate to “Bury Me in St. Paul?”), they are well-executed, and are usually best appreciated as a delivery method for the talents of the band’s three vocalists. The wide gap between Temperante’s throaty, ragged wails and Thornton and fiddler Elori Kramer’s sweet and somber tones adds even more variety and quality to the music. The album’s essential track, “Somewhere You Didn’t Know,” is anchored by the vocal interplay between the latter two.
These songs are highly evocative and imagistic—Spencer Roth’s woozy trumpet brings to mind rain-darkened cobblestone streets in cities built before the world became a small place, while Drew Temperante’s banjo summons Appalachian mists to the imagination (especially on “Ghosts,” a tune anchored by one of the better banjo riffs I’ve heard).
It’s a risky decision to load up your band with so many sustained tones—Alas, Alas also features a fiddle and bass fiddle, and the central-yet-subtle role filled by rhythm guitar is often left to Katie Thornton’s accordion. They make it work excellently, the wailing and soaring of these instruments reflect lyrical themes—alienation, loss, addiction, reflection. Let’s just say they chose a very appropriate band name.
With members often scattered across the country, it can be rare to get the opportunity to see Alas, Alas. If you can handle a 150 mile drive, their next live show is on August 3, at Thomas Owens Park in Two Harbors (at least it’s free). In the meantime, their album is one of the best things to come out of our fair cities’ folk scene in recent memory, and definitely warrants a few long listens.
