City and Colour (Dallas Green) is one of those rare finds that soon become woven into the soundtrack of your life.
But it happens not like a binge-watched season of Breaking Bad, or a sudden obsession with orange juice that soon leaves you craving that next big high, but more like that crazy singer at the bar that is so fantastic, the place is silent, jaws agape.
The music is just a fantastic combination of organic, gritty lyricism combined with a very simple analog guitar folk flavor that is at home accompanying a starlit Jeep drive, a road trip to the coast, or passing some time at a coffee shop.
The guitar leaves an aftertaste of blues or jazz, I really can’t tell – it’s just a taste. But there is some residual twang at the end of some chords that leaves you wondering if they were deliberate or a natural extension of the inherent flexibility in this music.
The lazy drums seem like an afterthought on many tracks – which is not necessarily a bad thing. If this music had any more structure, it would be over processed and trying too hard. Dallas has found the sweet spot here: dangling us between overly complicated instrumentation, and coffee-ground mucky lyrics so smoky, you can picture the Marlboro dangling from the singer’s lips as he sneaks sips of Maker’s between verses.
In the end, City and Colour’s complete picture of variety, lyrics, and instruments combines into a fantastic medley of catchy tunes. It is versatile music at its best, with applicability in any situation yet it lacks a true identity.
- Body in a Box
- Comin’ Home
- Day Old Hate
- The Girl
- Hello, I’m in Delaware