Midwestern dustbowl vibes where crops were king, once, and now strip
malls rule life and choke soil. That’s how it is in Tennessee, home of
Meliphonic Records and its stable, offshoots like vines from a sturdy trunk
desperately trying to reclaim some semblance of history. Offshoots like
Pumpkinseed, aka Daniel Gardner, and Wica Intina, aka Dakota Brown, neither
content to be forgotten fragments cast by global tremors. It doesn’t matter how
loud they shout it, or whether they shout at all – they’re still cogs in the
machine, whether they like it or not, as we all are, but they’re much better at
making us feel OK about it. There may even be some glimmer of hope there after
all, in the end.
Immediately calling to mind lo-fi mavens Barlow and Pollard but
settling into a world-weary folk tableau recalling Dylan, Guthrie, and even
Leonard Cohen, Pumpkinseed and Wica Intina are a perfect match for one another.
And yeah, Songs from a Wooden Bell, Vol.
1 is 1960s American Dream-y to its core, which of course is cast in the
harsh light of what passes for optimism these days. Meaning it’s pretty fucking
un-optimistic out there in good old 2016. Pumpkinseed is the bedroom tape
rocker, drenching his recordings in hiss and moving about from one lo-fi style
to the next, even stumbling into the 1970s a little bit on “Dickey’s Fever
Dream,” a little CSN action amid the GBV worship. It’s good worship, and he
even manages some found-sound cutup work on “Yanga Yanga.” And like Pollard,
Pumpkinseed is a middle finger against the darkness and a Bic lighter raised
high in solidarity with the young, ready masses. Take it over, baby.
Wica Intina, fresh off work with his band Sheep Bella Tine, is more deliberate,
more intimate, and more willing to embrace melancholia. It suits him, as his
lengthy ballads dissipate like wistful vapor in the ears of the longing. Did
things really used to be so simple? Is the absence of that simplicity what’s
driving us all closer and closer to the edge of the cliff? Taking a step back,
breathing, communicating, communing – Wica Intina absolutely invites these
activities. He stretches his lengthy tracks like Dylan, telling stories about
other people and bringing them to life. He reminds us that Tennesseans are
people too, not just specks on the ground as viewed from airplane windows by
people on their way to bigger and better cities. Those passengers forgot that
we’re all from the same place, when it comes down to it.
These two musicians are at the forefront of a burgeoning Tennessee
music scene, and Songs from a Wooden
Bell, Vol. 1 is as good a first impression as you’re gonna get. But hey,
don’t just take my word for it – Meliphonic has a fairly deep catalog, so check
the rest out too.
--Ryan Masteller
Posts
