John Vanderslice Emerald City by: Geoff Lemon Tue:20-Nov-07 Label: Barsuk Year: 2007 WB rating 78 out of 100

It’s pretty much inevitable that John Vanderslice will be compared to John Darnielle, the singer/songwriter behind The Mountain Goats. The latter recorded their past three albums in Vanderslice’s Tiny Telephone studio, Vanderslice producing We Shall All Be Healed and The Sunset Tree, and contributing strongly to the production of Get Lonely. He also supported them on their last Australian tour in early 2007. Tiny Telephone has been a haven for artists who crave the old-school of analogue recording, with visitors including Okkervil River, Death Cab for Cutie, and Spoon. But in between all the production and recording adventures, Vanderslice is an artist in his own right, blending a poppy sound that is easy on the ear with adventurous storytelling. Emerald City is his sixth album, an output of Goatish proportions.

Like the Mountain Goats, Vanderslice’s recent albums have displayed a shift from very simple basic production to far more lavish instrumentation, while retaining an emphasis on narrative. For the Goats, this shift occurred after the ultra lo-fi boombox recording of All Hail West Texas, while Vanderslice implemented the style on his previous album, Pixel Revolt. While it’s not quite clear who was influencing who, the parallels are clear. Emerald City has a lavish sound, with intertwining melodies, melodic percussion, and no sparing the piano.

The album’s opening few songs provide its strongest moments. While Aussie patriots will be glad to see our fauna penetrating the American consciousness, first track ‘Kookaburra’ has a lot more going for it than that. This is Emerald City’s finest moment, Vanderslice’s voice tenderly raw over the song’s winding melody and carefully wrought lyrics. Vanderslice’s melodies are often unpredictable and so can feel a little odd at first, but a few listens will sort this out. ‘Time to Go’ is understated enough to lead well into ‘The Parade’, a beautifully constructed piece braided with a constant, lifting upsurge. Then comes ‘White Dove’, the best example of Vanderslice’s preferred narrative storytelling. Unfortunately, though, the second half of the album falls away to a degree. ‘Tablespoon of Codeine’ should have been a slow rest point before the sustained attack of the second half, but the pace never really picks up again. The later songs are solid, but not of the same standard as the earlier work.

The main problem is that Vanderslice’s vocals and the arrangement of his songs can both become repetitive after a while. His music matches the nice, wholesome, blonde image of himself on the album cover – it’s always pretty, sometimes quite lovely, but seldom cuts much deeper. His impassioned cries of “I’ve never been lonelier” in ‘Numbered Lithograph’ are much more exception than rule. Generally, Vanderslice’s delivery is what your mother would call ‘nice’. There is no darkness, no dirt, none of the range that someone like Darnielle has made his own. One of the strange contrasts in Vanderslice’s music is that his lyrics and the characters contained within them are frequently very dark indeed. ‘White Dove’ is a remarkable example of this, telling the story of a child’s abduction and murder. “We had a daughter/disappeared at eight/we gave them money/all we could do is wait/she’s found/garrotted and bound.” This brutal subject matter is gratingly placed within a sweet-pop arrangement. Vanderslice quite deliberately sets up this awkward juxtaposition and the discomfort it engenders, and he does so with assurance.

It is part of Vanderslice’s gift that he can present serious content within an incongruous form, and it has consistently been a feature of his music. But this isn’t always successful on Emerald City. ‘White Dove’ is an exception, as despite initial impressions, it has subtly-placed darker elements within the music, and a kind of driving intensity. But the songs on the second half of the album find their more serious messages diluted as the genre in which they’re presented succumbs to homogeneity. Interestingly, it is the two bonus tracks not included on the original U.S. release that put an end to this sameness and make the album feel more complete. The authoritative bass and extra percussion behind ‘The Hospital’ give some of the kick that has previously been lacking, while ‘Mother of All Dead Time Factories’ combines a near-dancehall bassline with dark, paranoid lyrics.

The dilution of content is frustrating, as Vanderslice has plenty to say. The album is unashamedly concerned with the foreign relations woes that have been consuming the U.S. in recent years, especially the attacks on the World Trade Centre. But Vanderslice doesn’t so much focus on the political as on these events from a personal level, looking at how the attacks sit in people’s own memories and experiences. The hurt brought about by the attacks, and by America’s gung-ho response, are felt intimately, and there is emotion aplenty. Indeed, while the title Emerald City evokes a kind of wistful American nostalgia, it’s actually a bleak reference to the U.S.-occupied Green Zone in the centre of Baghdad. But it is to the Twin Towers that Vanderslice keeps returning, evoking the constant recycling of TV footage of the attacks since 2001, and the commercialisation of the attacks. In ‘The Parade’ he says plaintively “I got steel dust in vial/and anodised tiles/in my pocket/from Tower Two.” In ‘Kookaburra’ “The Capitol Dome was invisible/white on white/the hoisted flag had disappeared”, while the barely allegorical ‘The Tower’
features “a burning tower/hit by lightning/and people are jumping out/it’s coming down.”

Wider themes are covered too, and it is a pleasure to hear an album where the lyrics have been carefully and properly thought through. ‘Kookaburra’ tackles the philosophical: “Lightning shot from the sky/it gives, it takes away from/every living thing.” ‘The Parade’ is poetry: “Be calm, be quiet/as the cop drives by/stand right there like a poisoned well/when the cop drives by/and look at me leaning against the fence.” There are some lyrically wonderful moments on this album, but they are not consistent enough. To bring it back to Darnielle, Vanderslice doesn’t manage to tell stories with the same polish as his contemporary. His lyrics rarely have the incisiveness or the power that Darnielle can summon, and as previously discussed, his delivery is less varied and less interesting. Vanderslice has a lovely singing voice, but that’s not always enough to stop the listener drifting off.

The complaints about Emerald City are probably louder than it deserves, and are born out of frustration that this is a good album that perhaps could have been great. Three of the first four songs are indeed great, and most of the other songs have glimpses of more potential. Vanderslice needs to develop his range, develop his modes of delivery and assemble different styles that will complement each other well. Packets of assorted biscuits are always more appealing than a pack of identical Teddy Bears. By developing his storytelling he could make us listen that bit harder and care that little bit more. Ultimately, this is a solid album, and one certainly worth owning. One of the media quotes on Emerald City’s packaging says that Vanderslice is “inch[ing] closer to his great American masterpiece.” Let’s hope this is one more step down that road. And let’s hope that when the Mountain Goats next tour, they chuck JV in the caravan as well.