Devendra Banhart Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon by: Justin Pearsall Tue:16-Oct-07 Label: XL Year: 2007 WB rating 87 out of 100

As the male-lead in the freak folk movement Devendra Banhart often gets pigeonholed as another in the army of eccentric finger-pickers – a breed of musicians colouring folk conventions with elaborate arrangements and non-concentric lyricism. To be fair Barnhart’s 2005 release, Cripple Crow, had its fair share of neo-folk moments – album opener ‘Now that I Know’ could challenge Joanna Newsom’s ‘Emily’ for the genre’s signature song. But nestled around this gypsy folk centre was a far wider musical palette than the pigeonhole of ‘folk’ suggested.

With tracks like the psychedelic rock of ‘Long Haired Child’, the piano-led pop of ‘Heard Somebody Say’ and the tribal R ‘n’ B of ‘I Feel Like a Child’, Cripple Crow exhibited a versatility atypical for the genre – this versatility nearly justifying the album’s 22-song length and one-hour-fifteen running time. With Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon Banhart continues this movement away from his grass roots origins. This artistic extension makes Thunder Canyon a kind of mirror opposite to Cripple Crow, the folk heart of the previous release now replaced with a progressive rock sound.

The best tracks on the album embrace the blueprints left by other rock greats. ‘Seahorse’, an eight-minute epic marries country crooning and Doors-like psychedelia, eventually resolving with Led Zeppelin-esque riff-rock, this fusion made all the more impressive by the authenticity in the instrumental sound and Banhart’s ability to evoke three opposing vocal styles in the one composition. Similarly ‘Bad Girl’ draws on another late ‘60’s great, The Beatles’ ‘Don’t Let me Down’. This time Banhart and band save the song from plagiarism status by underplaying its emotion, holding till the final minute before Banhart rips through his Lennon-inspired plea: “Mama, I ain’t waiting/No, I ain’t waiting but I’m still holding on” in true R ‘n’ B grandeur.

The production of the album also adds weight to this feel of retrospectivity. Consistently quiet and indistinct, this tact allows the band to easily move from one genre to the next, both instrumentally and vocally. The dynamic variation is exquisite – nowhere more so than on ‘Seahorse’ where harmonies crash over the quiet a cappella mid section, shaking the song’s jazz-jam mood – with tracks juxtaposed to emphasis these peaks and troughs.

The only fault to find with the rich retrospectivity that Banhart has created on Thunder Canyon is its unrepresentative and bland opening. While there is nothing particularly offensive about ‘Cristobal’, ‘Son Long Old Bean’ and ‘Samba Vexillographica’ individually, they lack the oomph that personifies the remainder of the record. A wiser choice, or even a potential cut of a few tracks, could have made Thunder Canyon that more compelling. As songs such as The Strokes/Jim Morrison mash-up of ‘Tonada Yanomaninsta’, the bona fide gospel of ‘Saved’ and the heartfelt balladry of ‘Remember’ prove that Banhart is one of the most diverse and ambitious writers of the current indie scene.

At 16 songs and an hour-and-ten-minutes long some things don’t change for Banhart. But Thunder Canyon’s ability to pay homage to rock greats while losing none of its idiosyncratic charms makes Banhart’s new record a clear standout in his catalogue. If it were not for the album’s slightly lacklustre opening it could rightfully be deemed a classic.