Things I thought about today, August 3rd, while listening to Vetiver’s new EP, Between, which, just so you know, contains three previously unreleased tracks, one live version of a song on their self-titled debut, and one Lindsey Buckingham cover:
1) That today in New York it was bleached-white and hazy, city heat rolling off sidewalks and buildings and cars. Things were stuffy and slow, and the trees were too lazy to wave. The sun took three hours to set, and left a lovely little ozone trail in its wake.
2) Driving around St. Paul, MN, listening to classic rock radio the summer I was 17, my skin sticking to the naugahyde, the steering wheel too hot to touch, waiting all day for our friend Adriana to get off work at the bagel shop so that we could jump into her pool and flirt with her mom.
3) How this Vetiver EP casually and unpretentiously facilitates this kind of aimless, muted nostalgia. Partly through his collaboration with Devendra Banhart, Vetiver singer/songwriter Andy Cabic has been bundled into the “free-folk” leaf-pile, and in his hearkening back to pastoral, sixties folk-pop, the comparison is apt. But in its self-titled debut LP and here on Between, Vetiver’s music is understated, and considerably less restless than that of such free-folk avatars as Banhart and Animal Collective. And while Vetiver is also a bit less ambitious than either of the above, Cabic steers clear of the forced strangeness—and the self-conscious hippie persona—that occasionally plagues Banhart.
Vetiver makes pleasant, unpretentious folk, and Between follows the same template of their debut: breezy, melodic songs, shaped by quiet acoustic guitars and adorned by light touches of percussion, banjo and strings. The songs are wistful and gentle, and the playing is restrained, delicately complementing Cabic’s lonely-sounding voice.
4) Sitting in my bedroom, at age 11, listening to Minnesota Twins games on the radio, keeping score on notecards, and running wildly into my parents’ bedroom to let them (know) whenever anybody homered.
5) That Cabic translates Lindsey Buckingham’s “Save Me a Place” as a swooning, Gram Parsons-esque lullaby. Vetiver’s light touch works especially well on the chorus, where distant backing vocals chime along as Cabic sings Buckingham’s simple, plaintive lines. Between’s finest moment is a live version of “Belles,” a song from the first Vetiver LP. It is the least conventionally structured song on the record, with Cabic’s nearly-whispered melody commented upon by two extended instrumental interludes of acoustic guitar and banjo woven over droning bass and cello. “Belles” is no acid freak-out, but the playing is open and meditative, and it shows that Vetiver are willing and able to extend themselves and explore musical possibilities within the structures of their songs. I’m curious to see whether Vetiver builds on their more adventurous tendencies on their currently in-progress new LP, but for now their restrained music is a pleasant way to drift the time away.
6) The chain that hangs from my spinning ceiling fan, and the slow, gentle ellipse it describes. |