REVIEW: Willard Grant Conspiracy, Mojave (Slow River)
- Chris Hill
Love isn't a panacea in the Willard Grant world. Rather than curing all ills, love's more likely found causing them on Mojave, an album as starkly beautiful as its namesake desert. Couples, burned by the sun and emotion, whirl about each other in narrow confines and echoing houses, their decaying orbits leading to claustrophobic misery and regret. Not the most appropriate cd to play during the daylight hours, but at night, when the bedroom candles burn low and accentuate the shadows they once kept at bay, you'll find Mojave makes a fitting soundtrack.
"I guess that I should have seen/We were far from a perfect fit/Whatever it was you needed/I just couldn't give": a conclusion that reoccurs throughout the album. "Another Lonely Night", "How to Get to Heaven", "Love Has No Meaning", "Front Porch", "Color of the Sun": all songs that explain and extend the melancountry reputation of WGC. Not a condemnation of love on the whole, but tales of individuals and intentions gone awry, spun with dense, brutal imagery in rich, well-chosen words: "I can still feel your body/Like a bruise/Against my side", "I've seen every tear/You've ever shed/I can count them on one hand/ Have five fingers left", "You say everything/I don't want to hear/ I'll pretend I don't mind/As long as you're near".
Like Lambchop, WGC is a collective: sixteen musicians are listed in the cd credits, with the humorous "Anyone else who tells you they play on this probably does" attached to avoid hurt feelings. Only six are given specific mention on their website; the rest enter as part of a revolving cast that changes from cd to cd. Unidentified on their first two cds, the band wished the attention focused on the songs before the players. Having proven their qualifications with two albums and two EPs, the album now includes credits, and the cast steps forth to deserved applause.
Robert Fisher, vocalist and lyricist, stands under the brightest spotlight, being the frontman. His vocals manage to simultaneously express the weariness and optimism of his words. Edith Frost (with an impressive history all her own) provides a counterpoint to his male heartache, echoing Fisher on a number of the tracks. Guitarists: when three are named (Sean O'Brien, James Apt, Paul Austin), crediting favorite passages is near impossible. (Austin, however, merits a personal thank-you for beginning the fine American Music Club/Mark Eitzel mailing list.) Eric Groat on mandolin and David Curry on violin/viola both work on the sidelines to add distinctly noticeable, yet somehow unobtrusive, touches. For example, "Catnap in the Boom Boom Room" has Groat adding a gentle strumming layer to contrast Mr. Curry's edgy, subterranean bowing. To namedrop, the remainder of the crew includes players from Come, the Silos, and Sugar. But singling out players is like praising one peacock feather over another - the strength and the beauty of Mojave lies in the group and their interaction. The band mentions this on their homepage, relishing that the songs don't remain the same, but evolve and morph with the changing of the membership.
One bright part about a fanbase stronger outside their native shores: the band is currently working on the follow-up to Mojave, projected for a fall European release. (_Mojave also saw prior release in Europe.) Keep up with the latest Conspiracy developments at either the band's homegrown website (point your browser to http://world.std.com/~dahlia) or their label website (found at http://www.slowriver.com).
