Thanks to the extensive biographical press release from Lach‘s PR people, I’ve found myself endeared to the indecorous, Antifolk founders brand of humour and opprobrious outbursts. Take just these two examples for instance:
– Lach was ejected from The Lone Star in NYC for berating Billy Bragg whilst he was in the middle of a pro-communist epistle-style rant. Our heckler shouted out the reminder, “you’re in America now pal!”, and threw a pack of Marlboros at the startled champagne socialist (those last two were mine).
– Lach and his erstwhile partner-in-jappery, Townes Van Zandt (incidentally a influence on Lach’s music), once commandeered a golf cart and plowed through a bewildered audience at a Gordon Lightfoot concert.
Such anecdotal evidence alone is encouraging, yet he’s also responsible for starting up a clutch of no-nonsense club nights and illicit drinking joints around his hometown of New York, which played host to Michelle Shocked, Daniel Johnston and Jeff Buckley (to name just a few). He also set up the Antihootenanny institution that spawned notable artists like, Beck, Regina Spektor and The Mouldy Peaches. With a pedigree like that, and an ear for quality, it’s not surprising that Lach himself sounds like a gnarled, melancholic hybrid of Bob Dylan, Patti Smith and Loudon Wainwright III.
The fretting psychosis of the middle-aged, and artistically emotive New Yorker is laid bare, whilst a touching backdrop of shuffling drums, wichita guitar grit and yielding breathy melodies play on. ‘Ramshackle Heart‘ is indeed an apt reflection of the artist and his pranged myogenic muscular organ; the barbed sage recounting woe and journeying through a pastiche cattle-trail – complete with whip effects and yells – on Break The Day, to pulp 50s noir and the solace of a comforting prized mack, on the 12-bar Blue Overcoat. However the opening gambit, Another Night With Out You, shakes and rolls in the style of Warren Zevon and The Waterboys, whilst the 70s revival new-wave of Lonesome For You, shows a respectful nod to 50s rock’n’roll.
Lach is joined on the odd tune by the deep resigned vocal timbre of former Slowdive member, Neil Halstead, who assists on both production and in accompanying our troubadour on a variety of instruments. His finest moment is on the fatefully knock-about, Sensitivity; a stoical competition in descriptive lyricism that features such Gothic lines as, “Sensitivity waits for me in a bombed-out building, deep downtown, with vampire lips and black wedding gown, she welcomes me to the underground”.
The only drawbacks on this, the sixth LP for the Edinburgh independent label, Song, by Toad, is the constant Dylan-esque comparisons, which can be flagging and lead wearily up a musical cul-de-sac. In the main Lach sounds like he’s having a certain amount of fun with his blues, as he mostly delivers a well-rounded LP of spiky commentary and memorable tunes.
Released – 18/07/2011
[Rating:4]
http://songbytoadrecords.com/lach/ramshackle-heart/
