It’s fair to say that no one saw Adem coming. If anyone was wondering what was up with the bassist from late-90s British post-rock outfit Fridge – and that is a big if – it would’ve taken a lot of guesses to get to the truth. After Fridge wound up on the curb, guitarist/vocalist Kieran Hebden did his Four Tet thing, and Adem (last name: Ilhan) went home. There he recorded Homesongs, a remarkably accomplished debut album full of songs simultaneously stripped-down and surprising in their sonic richness. There’s a lot to like in these ten songs of wry regret, hope and affection, but, unexpectedly, Adem’s home production might just be the best thing about Homesongs. This isn’t to say that Homesongs content can’t match its form. It does, throughout. Adem’s lyrics are emotionally honest and his voice is versatile, strong and clear, and he’s got multi-instrumental skills for days (he plays everything from guitar and banjo to elementary-school music class favorites like recorder and autoharp). All admirable, yeah, but listen to “These Are Your Friends” and try to figure out how it got made in someone’s house. Unless Adem’s living in Paisley Park and Domino Records (and Prince… what the hell am I talking about?) are keeping it on the low, his home-studio chops are jaw-dropping.
It’s no insult to Adem’s songwriting, though, to say that Homesongs is at its best when the songs have a little bit of meat on their bones. There is nary a drum here, but Adem’s improvised percussion – no credits are given, so your guess is honestly as good as this board-certified critic’s – and ringing guitar and banjo work give even the simplest songs a pulse. Bells, guitars and a clear, thoughtful vocal (at times, Adem sounds a lot like Jeff Buckley, although he and the rest of the world can’t match Buckley’s extraordinary vocal depth) keep “Ringing In My Ear” on its elegiac course, and “Everything You Need” marches and skips in equal measure. It plays to some very simple pop instincts on my part, but I also fell hard for“These Are Your Friends,” which is about as close to “Hey Jude” as you can get on a homebound 16-track: it’s a great, wise song and earns the right to nudge above the six-minute barrier with a stirring choral close. Adem’s good when he’s moping, too, as in the forlorn and wistful “Long Drive Home,” but Homesongs less musically interesting moments universally come on its slower, sparer tracks. “Pillow” is probably the drunkest-sounding song I’ve ever heard – not drunk-sounding in the why-is-Isaac-Brock-shouting-at-me way, but drunk in the warm, boozy trip to a new bed after closing time way – but it’s almost uncomfortably intimate. Lyrically, Adem is wry where he needs to be wry, and straightforward and nakedly emotional when the time is right: the album-closing “There Will Always Be” is as honestly romantic a song as I’ve heard in awhile, and Adem pulls it off without ever sounding mawkish.
Adem fits in nicely with the sudden, welcome bumper crop of singer-songwriters who emerged in 2004. Homesongs is a good deal less stripped-down than the Devendra Banhart records that have been blowing everyone’s mind this year; it’s also less mannered, I think. There are so many risks to singer-songwriter musicianship: too direct and everyone’s got to … stand … over here, now. Not direct enough and you’re some postgrad troubadour singing jokes about French philosophy. That Homesongs walks this impossibly thin line so well is impressive, and a testament to Adem’s concise, literate lyrics and fine musicianship. That it also manages to sound great musically is a nice bonus. Part of me wonders what would happen if someone put Adem in a real studio. Still, it seems that Adem’s already living in the studio that suits him best. |