God bless whatever misguided genius thought musical westerns were a good
idea. Even when Gene Autry and Roy Rogers ceased gettin' the little dowgies
along and the silent steely-eyed Clint planted a be-spurred boot flat in the
dust, we still had that Italian powerhouse Morricone to transform the sound
of jangly spurs, creaking saddle leather, hoofbeats, gunshots, and chaw
expectorations into the eeriest, grandest, and goddam whistle-able-ist sound
you ever heard. In desert silence sounds are amplified and singular.
Black Heart Procession's '3' seems conjured out of the same silence. The
arrangements are lush and intricately layered (among the instruments listed:
pump organ, waterphone, saw, clavinet, space echo, long distance phone
call), but set in a desert-like expanse that prevents them from becoming
cluttered. Much has been made of the San Diego group's dirge-like sound
(funereal is a common description). In response to that I will make the
following concessions: yes, the pace sometimes borders on lugubrious and,
yes, the subject matter is stark ('I try to move but with this heart its
turned so black but I would never lie to you'). BUT... Pall Jenkins
sun-parched vocals are delivered with true cowboy resignation. Lonely, yes,
but such is life. And that, ultimately, is beautiful. On 'Till We Have to
Say Goodbye' he drops his keening voice to a Leonard Cohen register,
accompanied by lovely piano and singing saw, to sing a barely-sketched song
of babies growing up to go to war. This is the moment Clint gives a little
uncertain flick of the eyes, just the slightest indication of real sorrow,
real tenderness. One single tear. 'I Know Your Ways,' the next track, again
picks up the heavy drums and swaggering piano line, a story of troubled
love, and Black Heart is back in cowboy mode. Lonely, but such is life. And
they'll be moving on. |