Its quarter to two in the morning somewhere in the South. The bartender just yelled for last call; you are seven beers in and in no shape to drive. In the back, as you peer through clouded eyes at the band finishing their set, you hear a cracking voice cry out “I am not a monster, but I will eat your heart.” This moment is so appropriate and so upsetting that you can’t quite get out of your seat to leave. The singers voice is jarring; slightly off key, and in some ways ugly, but the sincerity in that same voice keeps you there; fixated upon it.
I have to admit that I feel a bit constricted. Although I have no clout or influence what so ever, I have this terrible feeling that if I give a bad review to Phosphorescent, it will kill Matthew Houck. The frailty of Houck’s voice, cracking and crumbling before our ears, carries us though this theme and variations, country western, southern gospel, folk record in an almost desperate fashion. The album begins with our theme, a chord progression with a simple but attractive melody that morphs over twelve tracks into different shapes and forms. Phosphorescent uses a variety of instruments to create a warm, full, and yet stripped down sound. The acoustic guitar and organ intermingle, subtle horns carry bass lines, piano accents, distant drums keep time, slide guitar ebbs and flows, and Houck’s voice leads it all.
The first track, “Not a Heel” gives us a perfect introduction for what is to come. Houck’s words aren’t overly verbose but aren’t entirely unambiguous either. There is an element of mystery that is quite appealing in his diction. “I am not a seal, but I will learn” or “We came upon some rabies and their is nothing us little animals can do” seem like odd phrases, and they are, but when Houck sings them, I believe it, whatever IT may be. As we continue on through the album, Houck’s vocals get more and more appealing, and so do the songs. In fact, after listening to the entire album a few times, looking back, “Not a Heel” seems more and more like a warm up.
The album has a consistent balance between studio crisp vocals and a largely live sound where voices are frequently heard in the background along with clapping and the banging of cups. Towards the end of the album, the languid and slow “Lost Name” is one of the most interesting and enjoyable songs on the album. The balance between chaos and structure demands equal attention to each instrument, not to mention Houck’s singing and the voices that repeat him. In “Endless Part Two,” Houck leads a choir of voices, most of which are probably his, to the end of the album, which ends with our original theme led by a slightly out of tune tack piano. Finally, eighteen minutes of rain and passing cars finish off a gorgeous yet sometimes beguiling album.
Phosphorescent’s “Aw Come Aw Wry is an “album,” not a collection of songs. In this age of the playlist, something is lost in the picking and choosing of songs and discarding the rest. I can’t see a “single” coming from “Aw Come Aw Wry” and still the individual songs are strong enough to stand on their own. The album meanders around a stated theme, taking exciting new paths and unforeseen detours, but always finds its way home to a melody you start to covet. Houck is gifted in his ability to approach songwriting with such clear thought, melody and warmth and succeeds by using his apparent disability (his voice) to his advantage to create a unique and engaging sound. “Aw Come Aw Wry” is an album for the chest patting scenester, the environmentalist poetry slammer and the drunken good ole boy. It’s surprisingly accessible, beautifully simple but gains significance in its complexity of thought and structure. This is the third album put out by Houck and Phosphorescent and if they continue at this pace, Houck may just be one of the most prolific, interesting, underrated, under-heard songwriters of the last ten years. |