REVIEW: Josh Rouse, Home (Slow River/Rykodisc)
- Chris Hill
Rouse's Dressed Up Like Nebraska is a perfect debut album: one of those rare creations that lingers in the psyche throughout the day, tugging at the mind with an embarrassing wealth of great lyrics and music. "I could help you open and unfurl," "miscommunication/turns into a fight/and all the years you been frustrated/they finally subside/and now you walk away/to face your day alone," "it's the being in the dark that makes me so paranoid" -- the album's jammed with words that bubble up from the subconscious at the oddest moments.
Rouse avoided the sophomore jinx by joining Lambchop's singer/guitarist Kurt Wagner for 1999's splendid EP, Chester, with Wagner writing the lyrics, and Rouse, the music. The combo proved brilliant: five songs that displayed Wagner's sparkling verbal wit and Rouse's knack for producing hooks out of his magician's hat.
Fans will be pleased to know that Home, Rouse's full-length follow-up, again showcases the ex-Nebraska (and current Nashville) resident to perfection with ten songs, nicely divided between energetically upbeat and quietly introspective offerings. Strings, guitar, brass and keyboards combine for haunting melodies of friends and lovers tested by time and distance, and of a man coalescing from indecision into solid determination.
Rouse's lyrics are impressionistic portraits of people and their relationships: country vistas viewed from a speeding car, seen for a blurry moment, briefly distinct, then left behind in the distance. "100m Backstroke" is a Byronic ode of beauty walking: "Watch the way you backstroke across the room/Arms out, floating/It consumes me/You haunt in your trail." Rouse then switches from passive, affected observer to involved participant with "In Between," describing a self-created limbo ("When the secrets aren't worth fighting for/people stay in between/and in between you'll stay") and a lover that is left sadly behind as her depths are plumbed and found shallow.
Whether planned with confidence or uncertainty, defining the future is another pervasive theme on Home. The rousing leadoff "Laughter" ("Now I watch what I say/and I watch what I do.../Think I got it all figured out/I think my plan is safe/from laughter") and the choppy waters of "Afraid to Fail" ("It's time I made myself clear.../Not that I don't want to/I'm just afraid to fail") both advance into a brave, new world.
On "Hey Porcupine," he addresses the distance that separates friends over time as priorities shift and goals change. "I don't call you anymore/It's a difference in our taste." The song plays as a sequel to the rollicking "Directions," where he berates someone for their aimless squandering of time. Rouse understands that drifting with life's current takes you someplace regardless of if you swim or not.
For me, the heart of Home is "Parts and Accessories," a blushing, adorational track ("As you walked in/ the room became a glow"). This person is idolized in his eyes with a memorable chorus: "So don't let on/don't let go/You should know/It's just parts of who you are." Ned Henry's violin plays at the edges of the song, adding an irresistible emotional undercurrent.
With members of Lambchop guesting, Home has a gentler, more soulful presence than his debut. Paul Birch's vibes add a piquant kiss to Rouse's heart-tugging vocals on "100m Backstroke" and Dennis Cronin's trumpet is the baited hook of "Laughter." After recent viewings of Lambchop's tour with Yo La Tengo, perhaps I'm sensitized to their contributions, because Rouse allows all his supporting cast moments in the spotlight. This unselfishness is just part of his charm.
The closer "Little Know It All" conveys his willingness to go the distance. When he sings "be on the lookout for me," he finds no argument here; http://www.joshrouse.com for more information.
