Facts and fog: Pete Colclasure. Courtesy of Facts about Funerals' MySpace site.
FACTS ABOUT FUNERALS
Love Songs & Funeral Homes
(Evangeline)
By Todd Lavoie
Just on the off-chance the band name didn't point you in the direction of the emotional terrain Seattle sextet Facts About Funerals are aiming to mine, the title of their recently released disc should help you out: Love Songs & Funeral Homes. See where we're going?
The title, in fact, was borrowed from the Daniel Johnston documentary The Devil & Daniel Johnston - asked what his songs were about, those words were the singer's reply. Evocative and eyebrow-raising, to be sure, but do they apply to Facts About Funerals as well?
Yes and no - death does cast a considerable shadow over the proceedings, but it doesn't completely consume the album, either. And as for the love songs - well, singer-songwriter Rob Sharp tends to speak more to the uneasy feelings associated with love (obsession, loss, regret, heartache) than the wide-eyed bliss of romance.
Ultimately, the band sticks firmly amongst the grays of melancholia, offering up a weary-hearted worldview that never drags the listener down to the abyss-staring depths of, say, Joy Division or Jandek, but instead maintains a steady brooding aura over the course of its 45 minutes. Sharp has penned some slyly engrossing confessions here, and his bandmates have done them great justice, injecting them with a slow-burning intensity that draws equally from aching Americana sounds and the barroom bluster of straight-up, no-nonsense rock 'n' roll. If American Music Club were to become a roadhouse band, they might sound something like this.
Sharp's vocal lexicon is largely one of bleary sighs, smooth supplications, and downhearted moans, thus heaping substantial emotional weight to his frequently clearcut, metaphor-free lyrics. On the page, such proclamations as "I sent back your letters return-to-sender / did you really believe I'd need reminding how far away you are from me?" (on the sweltering pedal-steel sway of "Lousy Kisser") appear candid enough, but Sharp metes out the words in compelling measures of ache and regret.
Elsewhere, on the gradually building opener "Runaway With Me," his entreaties to get away from it all are tempered by the wounded cry with which he delivers the title phrase. What should be a romantic come-on thus ends up more like a brittle-boned confession of weakness - the results are quite affecting. "Cartwheels" starts off with a haunting whistle-and-guitar duet before swelling into an anthemic declaration of falling in love. In a rare moment of uncomplicated joy, Sharp pronounces, "you got me doing cartwheels over you" against a clattering rhythm and chiming guitars.
Such guard-down admissions of infatuation prove to be fleeting, however: "I was dumb, I let you push me around", he announces in fiery falsetto howls on the storming regret-epic "Dumb," its fierce amalgam of piano-led balladry and raging guitar-solo let-go landing squarely in the middle between American Music Club and classic rock (a very good thing, mind you).
The separation between the two seemingly polar-opposites bleeds away even further on the swaggering guitar crunch of "Black Whiskey," a snarling AMC-meets-Mott the Hoople barroom stomp complete with some serious testimony from a live-wire backing chorus: "Whatever you're selling, I'm already sold," Sharp avows, equal parts Mark Eitzel and Ian Hunter, over the surging, feedback-emblazoned shuffle. Hmmm, maybe I should buy some, too?
Here's Facts About Funerals performing "Cartwheels":
And "Runaway With Me" - no video footage, just the song playing with an image of the album cover:
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