Big Stir 2024
Surfacing from the subconscious, Burbank ensemble bring their sunny perspective to the spookiness of archetype and allegory.
Octoberland
In the decade of their existence, this collective rarely ventured beyond the here-and-now relevance in terms of melodies and lyrics and the artists’ implicit refusal to reference other cultural planes emphasized their fierce independence, yet the Californians’ fourth full-length opus signals a paradigm shift in their approach. It’s not that singers and principal writers Christina Bulbenko and Rex Broome aim for timelessness by perfectly capturing the spiritual essence of pre-Halloween weeks, what with “Octoberland” issued in the titular month; it’s that their usual psychedelia and poetry enter the realm of myth and mystique here, to drench the listener’s very soul in familiar, time-tested symbolism. And if the platter’s cover may seem to reflect the artwork of RENAISSANCE’s “Novella” and “Sweetheart Of The Rodeo” from THE BYRDS – a pair apparently incompatible albums – eleven songs on offer often sound like a mélange of the two, refracted trough this erudite band’s pop sensibilities.
Still, for all the wordplay on display, all the linguistic landslides as the Burbank combo call their puns and charades, there’s also group defiance, “we” replacing “I” on every number and the musicians declaring “We’ve refined our manifesto” and “first person plural and the third part is you” in opener “We Absolutely Mean It” which goes meta so unabashedly, with panache and pretend menace, that one can be taken aback. Taken aback or, rather, pleasantly shocked – even without getting blown away from fantasy by the wave of Christina’s ivories and Rex’s six strings, even without Larysa Bulbenko’s viola and violin interwoven with piano and guitar and giving the album a chamber slant, even without these heavenly vocal harmonies and brash rapping. This is why, when “This One’s For The Swedes” flows in on a thunderous groove of John M. Borack’s drums and Clifford Ulrich’s bass, ignoring the deceptive incongruity of cosmic prog and country tones should feel like just the ticket for such a riveting trip, and embracing the tender rifferama of “Ridley & Me After The Apocalypse” and twang of “Green Hellfire At The 7-11” should turn into riding a carousel alongside other kids.
But if “Ouroboros Blues (Crow Whisperer)” invites the audience for a hoedown with Jack-o’-Lantern before allowing the punters to be their guests and argue with the intractable, and “Snake Island Thirteen” softens the serpentine theme only to reveal its impressive stance on Russo-Ukrainian War, the luxurious ballad “Here Comes The Song” delicately outlines the dangerous supremacy of the musical form. And if the somewhat cynical “Sickening Thud” follows a rhythm-and-blues past into the forest gloom, the innocence-exuding “You Oughta Be Cut In Half” and “It’s A Good Time To Come Back Down From The Cold” drive the time machine back to the ’60s while, respectively, asking the crowd to discard the part – meaning both body and stage, of course – and lending a friendly hand. And accepting the band’s hand is a treat, with the platter’s folk-symphonic finale “Music & Animals” only increasing the incentive to smile and further explore the wonder of “Octoberland”: a terrain of many a miracle.
*****
