If you don’t know Devendra Banhart’s music well, chances are you associate him with the “freak-folk” scene. However, the music on last’s years two albums “Nino Rojo” and “Rejoicing the Hands” was less sonically strange as similarly grouped acts like Joanna Newsom or Animal Collective. Banhart created pretty folk songs that sometimes oddly sounded like a 1920s jazz troubadour. The eccentricity associated with him seemed to stem from his peculiar lyrics or his personality (bizarre interviews, cross-dressing). On “Cripple Crow” he manages to place questions on the second part of the “freak-folk” label. No longer simply the weird dude playing acoustic, Banhart explores some full band and even electric textures.
This isn’t to suggest that “Cripple Crow” is going to confuse Banhart’s fans. The majority of the album is still centered on his voice and guitar, including a number of Spanish-inflected melodies, such as “Quedate Luna.” There are, however, some intriguing unexpected moments, such as Banhart’s venture into Canned Heat style hippie rock “Long Haired Child” or the 1970s AM pop sound of “Heard Somebody Say” (an effectively non-strident protest song). Overall, one of the other most notable differences is that there are stronger vocal lines on “Cripple Crow,” especially on quiet tracks such as “Lazy Butterfly” and “Queen Bee.”
“Cripple Crow” shows that Banhart still has his goofy side, and these moments are well on display in songs like “I Feel Just Like a Child” and “Chinese Children” (one of the ways in which Banhart does fit in with the freak-folkies is emphasizing a child-like naivety, as well as ubiquitous references to nature/animals). These songs have a playful quality that would appeal to many youngsters, while perhaps grating on adults. Personally, I don’t have a problem with this side of Banhart, though I do find it less interesting.
Banhart has shown the ability to be ridiculously prolific. He released two long-ish albums last year and he’s back with a double album already. At twenty-two tracks and over seventy-four minutes, “Cripple Crow” is a lot of music to absorb. Perhaps Banhart could use a good editor. There aren’t bad songs, but the album would not be weaker, and in my opinion, would be tighter with a more compact listen.
Still, I don’t want to distract from the fact “Cripple Crow” has a number of lovely performances, as good as anything Banhart has released: the lovely sketch “Dragonflies,” the mournful violin in the touching “Inaniel,” the graceful guitar in the instrumental “Sawkill Road.” As “Cripple Crow” unfolds, it becomes apparent that Banhart is perfecting neo-hippie folk, while exploring enough new territory to keep it fresh. It’s a lot to take in, but for those with the patience, it’s worth it. |