Cordelia's Dad, What it is: Kimchee Records
This is the seventh album from Cordelia's Dad, and the first real rock album since 1996's road kill. That album was a collection of live tracks documenting what at the time was a finished era for the band, when it seemed that they would reserve the name Cordelia's Dad for acoustic music, and continue to rock out under another name. For various weird reasons that didn't end up happening, and now the band seems to have reconciled itself to its apparent stylistic schizophrenia.
This is the seventh album from Cordelia's Dad, and the first real rock album since 1996's road kill. That album was a collection of live tracks documenting what at the time was a finished era for the band, when it seemed that they would reserve the name Cordelia's Dad for acoustic music, and continue to rock out under another name. For various weird reasons that didn't end up happening, and now the band seems to have reconciled itself to its apparent stylistic schizophrenia.
This is also the first rock record featuring the longtime lineup of founding members Tim Eriksen, (middle voice/guitar/stuff) and Peter Irvine (low voice/drums/drum) in addition to Cath Oss (high voice/bass
guitar/hero accordion). Which is ironic, because structurally it's most similar to the band's 1989 debut: primarily electric, with a few acoustic and unaccompanied vocal tunes.
It's almost impossible to say who Cordelia's Dad sounds like. Adjectives that spring to mind are angular, weird, fierce, tender, pure. There's raging guitars, catchy choruses, and solemn hymns. As far as specific comparisons go, the band has often cited The Ramones and the ballad collections of Anne and Frank Warner as primary influences, and certainly they remain attached to both these sources: they rock as hard as the Ramones, and Tim's singing is definitely indebted to singers like Lee Monroe Presnell and Frank Proffitt. Their songs, too, remind me of both sources: "Song of the Heads" features a Ramones-esque "sha-la-la" pre-chorus as well as a simple-yet-effective rallying cry: "What goes around comes around," and the album's genuine love song, "Leave Your Light On" is weird enough to be personal, yet abstract enough to connect it to the ballad-singing they do in their acoustic mode.
But in combining these influences, Cordelia's Dad transcend both. The album ends with "Song of the Heads" followed by "Brethren Sing," an unaccompanied three-way harmony piece dating back to 1848, about the redemptive powers of music. I can't help but be reminded of something like the very end of the Ramones' debut, "Today Your Love, Tomorrow The World" (not the Nazi stuff at the beginning, the very very end). Not in lyrical content, because on this level the words don't matter: I don't give a fig for Jesus or Heaven, but the propulsive harmonies of the hymn put me in exactly the same state of mind as the I-IV-V of The Ramones.
It's hard to single out particular tracks on the album. Each deserves an essay and at the same time needs no explanation. The opener, "Camille's Not Afraid of the Barn" is one of Tim's best songs yet, with verses like "There's a barn that smells like piss and cigarettes, something locked up tight inside, tonight we'll squeeze between the fear and the dark, and see what this town has to hide." Though the main guitar is acoustic, by the song's end we are graced with distortion and feedback. It should be a classic, something on mix tapes alongside "Rockaway Beach" and "Surrender" in the backseat of a beatup car.
"Five Way Flashlight" is another great one. "Five way flashlight/five way flashlight tag like phosphorescence in the waves/I've seen fires from the air against midnight snow/When you flew over could you see the flashlight in my hands?" What the hell's it about? Doesn't matter, it makes perfect sense. Featuring both trombone and
throat singing, this breathless, hushed tune evokes a sense of frenzied wonder.
About all I can confidently say about "Little Speckled Egg" is that it's a weird song about an egg. Tight, bouncy verses; a whistling break; a crashy bridge; a thundering, thundering noisy instrumental section followed by a tried-and-true punk-rock start-and-stop this is everything rock ought to be.
"Dark and Rolling Eye" is the sole acoustic track on the album (featuring former member Laura Risk on fiddle) and it fits right in. A great, somber trad tune about paying a minister's daughter to screw, then getting VD. I've heard them play this countless times and I still get chills. (Ditto "Hammer," one of their spookiest).
One of the best things about Cordelia's Dad is their optimism. Far too much bullshit has been spouted about the link between misery and creativity, the dependence of the latter on the former, etc etc, ad frigging nauseam. Dig this: "The night will squeeze between the fear and the dark/and see what this town has to hide"; "Get that upswing/fuck that down thing drop that down talk/go for a walk get those boots on/shake that dust off"; "All I ever want or wish to know/that all is clear above and calm below": the songs on this album prove that joy and resolve can be just as inspiring as angstridden moping.
These songs have been around for awhile (the album was recorded by Steve Albini and Mark Alan Miller between June 1997 and June 1999, and the band had been playing some of them for several years prior), and it's a little strange that it's taken so long for the world to hear them. It's also more than a little sad that due to various personal circumstances, there will likely not be a major national tour behind the album. Cordelia's Dad live is a profound physical and spiritual experience.
The only real problems I have with the album are "Idumea"? I guess I should take it as good that there are more songs in the vault, waiting.
To sum up what Cordelia's Dad is all about, dig "Eyelovemusic," because if it's not a manifesto then it's at least a mantra: "I love music, and I love there is sadness in every song. Sweet sadness says too much cool is bad for struggling hearts. I love music, and I love hear the overtones." Too fucking right. With thundering drums, fierce guitars, and the coolest harmonies in rock, What It Is is not only the band's best rock album yet, but one of their best, period.