Labels: secretly canadian
Review by: Alex Deller
No one would expect the next album by Jason Molina to be particularly cheery. It could, however, almost be forgiven following the release of last year’s ‘Magnolia’, a masterpiece of browbeaten folk songs that were nonetheless shot-through with optimism, or at least masking their sadness with a rich sheen of instrumentation and warm production. By contrast, ‘Pyramid’ is a ragged, naked affair, a cold, bleak place where the language barely raises itself above a whisper and the sun forever remains behind heavy grey clouds.
The opening track is an eight-minute acknowledgement of life’s ability to drive you into the dust, set to the tune of a lonely electric guitar singing in some empty room. And so the tone is set, following on form this with the harrowing ‘Red Comet Dust’, desolation given voice by cracked voice and muted piano. Even songs that may have been given lighter treatment had they been recorded at some other time manage to shake the vague traces of hope from their bones and wallow in the shadows, meaning any smile you think you see is either made with lips pressed tight together or else just another trick of the light.
As ever, Molina’s voice and musicianship are impeccable. His humble drawl sends electricity crackling down the spine as each note is afforded the gravity it deserves. Similarly the guitar playing shines with simple eloquence, a spare style with nothing wasted, and on the rare occasions where the volume rises above a murmur you know there’s good reason for it. Heartbreaking without being self-indulgent, just seven fragile odes to everything you’ve ever lost.