Arbouretum Rites Of Uncovering by: Steve Scully Mon:19-Feb-07 Label: Thrill Jockey Year: 2007 WB rating 39 out of 100

After listening to an album like Arbouretum’s Rites of Uncovering, I’m left with far too many questions. Mainly, these questions begin with ‘why’. I’d like to know why – and for what reason – they wrote the songs on this record. Is the primary aim of a songwriter to be listened to, or to write? Is the songwriter in this case writing for us, or for himself? Is the guitarist playing seemingly never-ending guitar solos with their audience in mind, or themselves?

What upsets me so much about groups like Arbouretum – of which, thankfully, I’ve seen few – is that there is little in the music or the lyrics that seems aimed at engaging the listener; there is not a memorable melody, a resonating lyric, nor a hint of energy. What seems to have resulted here from the introspective, closed minds of vocalist Dave Heumann and his band is an exercise in self indulgence. In short, Rites of Uncovering is unrewarding, dissatisfying and difficult.

Arbouretum linger somewhere between the rustic heritage suggested by their name and modern hard rock, but never do they get the mix right. Instead of balladry, they opt for convoluted lyrical constructions; instead of being musically tight, they opt for seemingly extemporaneous and boring quasi-jamming sessions, in which lead guitar and rhythm section vie for the position as the band’s most despicably egoistic member. There is little in the way of ‘song’ on this record. It is merely opportunities for the vocalist to drearily quote appallingly phrased, nonsensical lyrics over drudging guitar and bass lines. This is immediately brought to our attention in the opening track, ‘Signposts and Instruments’ and is only disjointed by the occasional three minutes set aside for tiresome guitar solos.

Dave Heumann’s vocals are undoubtedly the centre of Arbouretum’s vision, but unfortunately his voice lacks any real expressive element. With a few effects thrown in there to force variety out of the monotony, Heumann sounds like Jim Morrison or Nick Cave, but without the charisma or character. Compounding this morose vision is the fact that Heumann’s lyrics are at best clichéd, at worst laughable. On top of clumsy phrasing throughout most tracks – the most memorable of which sees him droning “fu-ne-re-al” and “i-mag-in-ings”, syllable-by-syllable, in ‘Tonight’s a Jewel’ – Heumann’s lyrics themselves are either painfully constructed and anachronistic, or poor, faux-poetic turns of phrase. Between preaching: “all the world’s a comic disguise” and using amazingly cringe-worthy puns: “If you hold the torch/Best carry with flair” Heumann destroys ‘Tonight’s A Jewel’, a song which is otherwise a passable ‘70’s folk-inspired track. In ‘Mohammed’s Hex And Bounty’ Heumann’s use of forced similes: “like a lamp that’s lost its light,” and convoluted wordplay: “said she, my heart loves your heart/and I wish that I knew why/I said, you need not know/for I wished that she would not” is nothing short of comical. Pretentious to the point of absurdity, Heumann’s lyrics are the only thing on this record more tiring than his voice itself.

It is only when the vocals stop that the record unveils its merits. Although heavy-handed, the guitar/drum opening to ‘Pale Rider Blues’ at least shows promise and the toned-down ‘Sleep Of Shiloam’ and ‘Two Moons’ highlight that the band has some sort of dynamic variety. Nonetheless, all this is for nothing. In ‘Pale Rider Blues’, ‘Sleep of Shiloam’ and ‘The Rise’ – all tracks over seven minutes in length – the guitar solos border on excruciating. Why? Because the guitar wizardry on show is nothing you wouldn’t hear from a bored employee of a guitar store on a quiet afternoon.

So, who is Arbouretum writing music for? I’ve got no doubt that Heumann et al have produced this album to vent their own frustration. Whether it is frustration at lack of recognition, or frustration at having too much self-perceived talent for the world to accept, I’m not sure. What I am certain of, however, is that this album is so chock-full of self-referential, self-aggrandising moments, that any effort on my part to ameliorate it by praising their skill, effort and ‘vision’ would be unconscionable. All I hear is laziness; not one track sounds like a polished piece of art. For the majority of this record the melodies are half-baked and the guitar solos merely there to flesh-out the pervasive emptiness.

I’m left disinterested, frustrated, depressed and unsatisfied. If this was Arbouretum’s aim, then they deserve to be commended. I won’t be the one commending them, though.