Hayden In Field & Town by: Dan Osmolowski Mon:24-Mar-08 Label: Harwood Year: 2008 WB rating 78 out of 100

Canadian singer-songwriter Paul Hayden Desser has managed to keep his head above water on the seas of indie music popularity for some 12 years now. First emerging as a ramshackle genre-hopper on 1995’s Everything I Long For, his craft has floated gradually toward alt-country and, eventually, rested at bed-sit folk on his most warmly received records, Skyscraper National Park and Elk-Lake Serenade. Four years on and Hayden has attempted to swim against the tide of the ‘miserablist’ undercurrents of his prior recorded works with a decidedly more lively record. Withstanding In Field & Town’s lyrical narrative that charts the course of a relationship and its subsequent breakdown (shocking, I know), Desser has produced his most vibrant and engaging album to date.

Relationship records can be a hazardous affair. Often they fall flat to the ears of the listener who is comfortably in love. Even to those who have experienced the pain of the disintegration of a special bond, love comes in many forms, has different origins and follows different paths. Focussing wholly on the specific details of love affairs, such as naming particular locations and explaining precise situations threatens to alienate the listener. Rather than draw you in and make you feel as if what you are listening to could be a recount of your own life, these records threaten to distance the audience from the narrative. The last thing the artist wants is to be cast into the, “I don’t give a shit how miserable you are,” category. Fortunately, Hayden manages to maintain a sense of humour regarding his predicament and, even to these pessimistic ears, draws some compassion from his audience.

The bouncing title track opens the album and Dresser’s lazy drawl is immediately at the forefront. But don’t be fooled; vocally, he is by no means a one trick pony. ‘More Than Alive’, ‘Damn This Feeling’, and ‘Weight of the World’ reveal an impressive ability to throw up some pleasant surprises in the form of an engaging vocal range. Most importantly, however, his voice has character and Dresser never strives beyond his abilities; he is distinctive, warm and convincing throughout the entirety of the record.

Even when Dresser drops the ball lyrically and resorts to the obvious (“I think I’m healing/Damn this feeling/I have been reeling/Since last season”), his melodies insist that the song remains firmly stuck in the consciousness. Indeed, just when you are ready to lynch Hayden for his lyrical amateurishness, all is forgotten when he pulls out some brilliant self-deprecation. On ‘Damn This Feeling’ he plays on his reputation as somewhat of a sad-sack songwriter (“Women adored me/For the sad look in my eyes/Now they ignore me/For getting on with my life”) and humorously acknowledges the follies of his past (“I’m going to miss how bad this has felt”).

Hayden’s past is best left behind him, however. In Field & Town sounds like the defiance of a man who is doing his best to polish the turd that life has left him. The production has a warm analogue glow about it and Dresser steers his band toward some affecting highs and some melancholic, but not miserable, lows. The record is sequenced remarkably well; never dwelling by the solitary confinement of the fireside for too long, it amiably reflects the emotive rollercoaster that always accompanies the journey on the road to a new beginning.

‘Where and When’ is the record’s standout moment; an unusual time signature underpinning a fantastically melodic bass-line and a ringing acoustic guitar that eventually eases into some beautiful Spanish horns. Stylistically opposite, but no less engaging, is ‘Weight Of The World’s’ brief dustbowl dalliance and ‘Barely Friends’, the beautiful closer reminiscent of Uncle Tupelo at their finest. Even when the strange bedfellows (compared to the rest of the record’s instrumentation) of a washed-out synthesizer and some cascading, submerged guitar is featured on ‘Worthy of your Esteem’ there is no hint of awkwardness, just a lot of foot-tapping and head-nodding.

Despite some missteps at the tail-end of the record (‘Lonely Security Guard’ is a lyrical white elephant and ‘The Hardest Part’ is just plain dull), In Field & Town is a fine record that sees a previously niche artist push towards a level of accessibility but, thankfully, not one that is willing to sacrifice the rough and discordant edges in favour of the contrived, corny and antiseptic.