DeVotchKa A Mad and Faithful Telling by: Ed Butler Thu:17-Apr-08 Label: Anti- Year: 2008 WB rating 74 out of 100

For such a prized musical possession, uniqueness is surprisingly easy to achieve. There is always a new blend of melodic traditions to cobble together to create something quite unlike anything else available to the listening public. This brand of idiosyncrasy is, of course, manna for the music industry, automatically garnering myriad glowing commendations from the chattering classes, exalting the ‘difference’ and ‘character’ of the music, quotes such as ‘sounds like nothing else out there’ being tossed around with garrulous abandon in a frenzied rush to validate the industry’s desire to appear cool.

And when it comes to slightly left-of-centre musical mixtures, DeVotchKa is certainly up there with the most brazenly distinctive. Mashing together such disparate sounds as Italian, Greek, Slavic, Bolero, and Mariachi music, coupled with American punk and folk roots, DeVotchKa have, under the guidance of frontman Nick Urata, established themselves as an eminently identifiable branch on the indie music tree. That is, until a thoroughly irritating little twig called Beirut burst into life, Balkan horns and rhythms carried intact from the limb it sprouted from. But, hey, DeVotchKa were here first, so let’s not dwell on that.

The back story is comprehensive enough, and well-told by now. Frontman Urata is a multi-instrumentalist’s multi-instrumentalist, bouzouki, trumpet and theremin among a comprehensive list of instruments he totes on A Mad and Faithful Telling. There’s a drummer who was once a punk before deciding he preferred Mariachi tunes sourced from old Mexican vinyl. Tom Hagerman is a classically trained violinist and Jeanie Schroder, who plays the sousaphone, an instrument so obscure that it required the all-encompassing knowledge of Wikipedia to educate your humble correspondent as to its particulars.

These disparate players unite in DeVotchKa, a band which is, undeniably, more than the sum of its parts. A Mad and Faithful Telling, coming off the back of scoring 2006’s indie film hit Little Miss Sunshine, has garnered rave reviews for its – again – unique combination of the Baltic and bohemian, Urata’s tenor warble a chameleonic companion to his band’s internationalist leanings. He can, while retaining his distinctive vibrato, dance between dramatic pathos, offbeat quirkiness and brazenly horny with consummate ease, selling stories as diverse as the accompaniment would suggest.

That said, much of A Mad and Faithful Telling is oddly consistent. The pacing and song sequencing is nigh-on perfect, easily shifting between various influences, doses of mariachi horn smoothly inserting themselves alongside accordion polka and Balkan waltz. However, nigh-on means almost. The opening track, the wonderfully named ‘Basso Profundo’ is a bouncy burst of high-energy, Helenic mania, Urata’s vocals so fiercely urgent that all the song lacks is the sound of shattering china. The song, while undeniably exciting, is a mammoth dose of DeVotchKa’s quirky gypsy mash-up and, in appearing first up, doesn’t allow listeners to acclimatise to the band’s peculiarities. It therefore sets up the expectation of a rollicking ride through horns-and-maracas mayhem, before stepping back gently with the (admittedly beautiful) ‘Along the Way’, which features Urata effortlessly slip into falsetto, almost unaccompanied, a statement of intent to any who suspect his distinctive vocals appeal purely due to their wobbly individuality.

Elsewhere, when a groove has been established, the band coolly sidle into it, the flamenco guitar of ‘Head Honcho’ followed by the instrumental ‘Comrade Z’ which positively hurls the listener into the middle of Red Square. The 3/4 time is a welcome shift on ‘A Blessing in Disguise’, once again allowing Urata to periodically take centre stage before allowing drummer Shawn King to propel things forward once again, creating an image of a flowing waltz taking place in some imaginary European ballroom.

In fact, imagery, whether intentional or not, is the overarching legacy of A Mad and Faithful Telling. The insistent mish-mash of European and Latin influences consistently bringing to mind visions of various exotic locales, people and events. Bulls running and plates breaking. For all the unrelenting idiosyncrasy, there are flat points, but the vigour with which the band ply their trade means that the enjoyment can come at least from hearing such a contemporary interpretation of such an ancient sound, rather than appreciating songwriting or musicianship.

So yes, it’s unique (ish), and yes, it’s different and exciting. But it’s not perfect, it’s just a lot of fun.