Reviewed by Null
Big Red Machine’s How Long Do You Think It’s Gonna Last? was on my Musical Obsessions of 2021 list published on Tickle Your Taint Eclectic Music Reviews last December. I wanted to briefly return to it for a short review to explain how and why it became one of the records I listened to the most last year.
I don’t remember how or why I was guided to this unique record, but it was partially due to my ignorance that it became such a mysterious curiosity. I had no idea at the time that it was, in essence, and “indie-folk” super-group with a semi-revolving door.
First, let us note the elephant in the room, or should I say, not explore it…just yet. Taylor Swift does sing lead vocals on one track, but I will deal with that distracting detail later. Let us begin by returning to my ignorance.
Big Red Machine is primarily a duo made up of Justin Vernon and Aaron Dresner. I was unaware at the time that Justin Vernon was Bon Iver, or part of Bon Iver. Furthermore, I had never heard a Bon Iver record, so I wouldn’t really know what significance that would have on the record. I knew that Aaron Dresner was a member of The National, but my knowledge The National was next to nothing.
As for the semi-revolving door mentioned above, here is a list of all the people who contributed to How Long Do You Think It’s Gonna Last? notwithstanding those previously mentioned: Anais Mitchell, Fleet Foxes (Robin Pecknold), Ilsey, Naeem, Sharon Van Etten, Lisa Hannigan, Shara Nova, La Force, Ben Howard, and This Is the Kit. Who are these people? Granted, I had heard of Fleet Foxes, but did not know their music at all, but that was about it.
The first time I listened to the record, it was amusing, fresh sounding, sometimes off-putting, and genuinely moving in turns.
My immediate take away was that there were three absolutely brilliant songs on the album, which is the reason I kept going back, “Latter Days,” “Phoenix,” and “New Auburn.” These songs alone could have been my favorite songs of the year. The album is bookended with its two best songs. It opens with “Latter Days” and closes with “New Auburn,” both of which have Anais Mitchell at the helm.
“Latter Days” is an incredible song about the current and forthcoming catastrophic events brought on by climate change. However, it is dealt with on a personal, subjective level, which makes its power and relevance that much more jarring and immediate. The beat has a mellow, melancholy fumbling effect, as Dresner’s nostalgic upright piano sound sets the tone. Mitchell’s voice is beautifully haunting as she begins,
“How long?” is what you ask / “How long do you think it’s gonna last?” / You, at the corner store / You were stocking up before the storm / Stacked yourself against the odds / Talking back to “an act of God” / You and your clever mouth / You were laughing when the lights went out.
This first verse sets the stage for the ignorant and quick-witted cynicisms toward environmental issues over that last half century, as well as a portrait of the real response of the “everyman” in the grocery store.
In the chorus that follows, they are “found” presumably after the storm, with “our arms around each other…in the latter days.” The images this song paints in my mind are haunting.
The next chorus asks a similar question at the water’s edge; “How high do you think it’s gonna get?” The lyrics then fall back into childhood memories, of drinking too much from plastic cups and passing out on your childhood bed with dreams in your head.
Clearly, those days are over, but the trajectory was present all along, as in the next chorus the person is “found” where they lay, “as you called out for your brother / In the latter days?”
Shortly after, the song ends with another chorus about “sheltering in place,” until there is “no hiding place,” and the only recourse is to call each other brothers, but is too late…in the latter days.
This song seems to sum up all my worry and anxiety about climate change in just a few minutes. It is at once soothing, but devastatingly resigned. It’s a glaring portrait of inaction.
Like the first song, the closing track, “New Auburn,” is sung by Anais Mitchell with Dresner on his upright piano. However, it is more lower key and gentle than “Later Days.” The lyrics tell the tale of traveling out of the city to a rural lake without cell phone towers or radio reception. In essence, it is a road to freedom. However, it is also a familial place as the lyrics point out specific landmarks along the way. This path has been traveled before. Though the lyrics are clearly the subjective recollections of the author; the landmarks are drenched in sentimental meaning and memory, which the listener cannot begin to understand specifically. The result is that listeners fill in that space and the weight with their own memories. This is the true universality and magic of music, as I cannot make it through this song without crying. As a child, I would often meet up with my father’s side of the family on an island in Lake Vermilion in northern Minnesota. It was isolated notwithstanding the anticipation of aunts, uncles, and cousins. Those memories are some of the greatest in my life. As many of my family members, including my father, are dead, this song is nothing if not an epitaph to my childhood and those times that are forever waning in my memory. It speaks to the larger experience of life itself. At one point the song asks, “Who am I to listen? / Who am I to see? / Who am I to notice which way a tree / Falling alone falls silently?”
It is so random and unique to be alive at all; one is often baffled at this brief moment in time before all returns to dust. What is it for?
It is the last lines that split the heart wide open, as the question is posed again, but this time with an answer: “Where do we come from? / Out of thin air. / I hear you whisper in the back of my hair.”
That is the best and only answer one is going to get. “New Auburn” is a gorgeous and devastatingly beautiful listen every time. I have a long list of songs that slay me, and this one is near the top of that list.
The other song that rose to the top is the third track on the album, “Phoenix,” which is sung by Pecknold and Mitchell. It is the bastard child of The Band’s “The Weight.” It even evokes the “weight” in its lyrics. Pecknold takes the verses and Mitchell comes in for the choruses. Pecknold’s voice reminds one of the Dylan period after 1966 – think John Wesley Harding, Nashville Skyline, and Self-Portrait. It is of a much lighter affair than the aforementioned songs, and I’m not sure what it is about, other than something to do with power, or responsibility, or ivory towers, or “gripping the wheel to tight” on the journey through life…or something. Maybe it is about all of these things. I don’t know. I will say that one day I listened to it on repeat all the way to work and all the way home, which is about 10 times. Something about this song is melancholic, yet a comforting lubricant to the previous songs. I must also send out props to the drummer, JT Bates. He plays on many tracks on this album, sometimes alone and sometimes accompanied by electronic drums, but he has a signature sound wherein he casually moves around the floor toms like slow, rippling water over rocks in a stream. I adore everything about this track. Another magical aspect of this track is the subtle and tasteful horns in the background. It’s a masterpiece.
What does the rest of this album sound like? Well, I am an album guy, as opposed to a Spotify single-track, type of person. As these three brilliant songs are part of a much larger story, I did eventually fall in love with the whole album, but the relationship was confusing and rocky at first. There are several songs with weird, syncopated drum beats that quickly become infectious. From a percussive perspective, they are beats that keep on giving due to their complexities. These are often aligned with, who I later learned, is Vernon, who sounds like he sings drunk with cotton balls in his mouth. Often his lyrics are also syncopated, which is unsettling at first but quite captivating in the long run. Eventually, I came to understand his style of singing and mistook the “drunken cotton balls” for a warm baritone. He sings a song called “Mimi” with a woman named Ilsey. Her voice is crystalline. At one point in the chorus they sing different lines at the same time and it is irresistibly beautiful and catchy. Later, Dresner chimes in with a different repeated refrain. It’s magical. I think the song might be about smoking pot or making love in a garden, but probably not.
Vernon also sings the song “Reese,” which is instantly likable. There is a subtle, wailing guitar mixed into the background, which is a secret ingredient.
The other issue I initially struggled with concerning Vernon’s tracks was that fact that half of the time he has a weird electronic distortion on his voice. I fucking hate auto-tune, but I’m not so sure that this was what he was using. As he does it so often, I eventually got used to it and it became a hallmark of the album as it presented a nice juxtaposition with the more naked tracks. Part of the time his vocals are used as an additional percussive instrument with the already multi-tracked syncopated drum patterns. It seems that many of the things I didn’t like about the album at first, I eventually loved, as they became part of the journey of this most peculiar album.
Vernon has the most prevalent voice on the album and even sings background on “Latter Days,” and “Phoenix.” Though his songs tend to be the most abstract, they eventually grow on you and leave an emotional residue of their own.
The other big player on the album is the aforementioned Dresner. He sings several songs with a gentle delivery accompanied by his acoustic guitar strumming or the upright piano, which makes an appearance on almost every track on the album. He is the opposite of Vernon in every way. “Ghost of Cincinnati” is an acoustic gem about living on the brink of a mental break:
‘Cause I’m over myself / I’m over the hill / I’m Over-the-Rhine / For the millionth timе / I’m overspеnt / Overworked / Overlooked / I’m Over-the-Rhine/ For the millionth time
“Brycie” is a heartfelt song about brotherly love. Dresner’s songs are often mantras to get one through the day.
Now, back to Swift. She sings the song “Renegade,” which is a fine song that fits well within the album; the only problem is that she’s Taylor Swift. As SoDak has noted, she is more of a capitalist than a musician. So, even in this strange sequence of songs, she sticks out by her very presence. I initially experienced this album as an odd amalgamation of voices and sounds for which I had no name or place. I had no idea who these people were. It’s like having Michael Jackson at a birthday party. Even if he doesn’t do anything weird; he kind of ruins it by being there. It just fucks with the album a bit. Swift also sings background on the song “Birch,” and it is beautiful. She is a great accompaniment. As I said, I do like the song she sings, but it makes the album less mysterious because of her presence. It should be on her own album, but in the end, it would probably be strange if it were missing now that I have internalized the record as a whole.
Overall, this album is a strange, emotional, sonically psychedelic dream made up of various flashes and vignettes. It is filled with the reoccurring themes of familial and brotherly love, family dynamics, mental health struggles, and emotional loss and pain. However, it leaves one feeling resilient and slightly uplifted, as it has an overall healing quality. It is also a one-of-a-kind album that will never be replicated, as the band is primarily Vernon and Dresner. This particular make up of guest artists is reflective of this moment in history. It’s just another thing that makes this record unique and special. It’s both familiar and new sounding. I absolutely fell in love with it. I often treat it as medicine.
Due to this record I have also become a big fan of Mitchell and Pecknold. I have no plan to dive into Vernon’s body of work despite how much I like what he does on How Long Do You Think It’s Gonna Last? I first listened to this album with knowing little about the people who made it or play on it. I kind of want to keep it that way. I’ll check out the next Big Red Machine album, and maybe the first one. I’ll also keep my eye on Dresner. He is the sound of weakness straightening its back. How Long Do You Think It’s Gonna Last? spoke volumes to me this last year. I still love it dearly. I’m sure I always will.
No comments:
Post a Comment