Pygmy Lush's Mount Hope: CD Review

Pygmy Lush are a slow waltz. They are condensation on a glass that's been resting on rickety table on a porch with creaking boards, while cicadas buzz off in the distance. They are voices from a thousand miles away coming in on a static-ravaged radio in the middle of the night. They are nostalgia and tradition, but also a soothing friend that is crooning just for you. Let's not forget however that Pygmy Lush are a six-piece band from Sterling, VA.

In 2007 the band released, Bitter River, a decidedly brash and loud affair full of experimental nods and moments of restraint in the form of folk balladry. It is these two elements that make for the interesting combination of producer and sound found on Mount Hope. See, while Pygmy Lush have opted to focus on the low-key folk wanderings that were merely an aside on Bitter River, they have also chosen Converge guitarist, and ultra-talented heavy music producer, Kurt Ballou to record their album. While this should come off as a surprising choice, Ballou most definitely holds his own. Each acoustic pluck is crisp and clear, each drum hit present, but not overpowering, while the vocals and additional sounds are laid out in a warm and all-encompassing manner.

With all the groups and individuals currently mining folk's wealth of tradition it's sometimes hard to have a distinguishable voice, but Pygmy Lush manage to craft an interesting and worthwhile addition to the world of underground folk.

The album's first few tracks like "Asphalt," "No Feeling," and "Dead Don't Pass" shuffle along at a leisurely pace recalling the slower moments of Brights Eyes or Okkervil River. The vocals are hushed and border on surrender while the band provide a musical backdrop that is both relaxed and lush. Bits of country also run through these tracks and add to the down-home cadence.

It's "Red Room Blues" that seems to act as a turning point. While this track may be more morose than its predecessors, it also the most sparse and experimental. A simple guitar line plays out over a receded melodic drone, while the vocals whisper like daydream monologues. Eventually the drone rises up and overtakes the track making for a couple minutes worth of empty space awash in sustained noise. It's a beautiful and wonderfully executed moment that pushes the song over seven minutes without ever feeling long. And, like I said, this is the album's turning point.

After "Red Room Blues" comes the boisterous and driving title track. The drum beat is now up-tempo, the bass bouncing, and the guitars jangling attention whores. The vocals may only be shifting up a notch from their calm resolve, but after five tracks of hushed delivery, any change is quite noticeable.

"Mount Hope" does last less than two minutes however, and maybe that's a good thing. Any longer and the song may have started to stick out like a sore thumb. It's follow up, "Frozen Man," takes thing back into the cruising lane. A harmonica wail, and some vibraphone notes compliment an acoustic strum and that faded vocal approach. It is here that Kurt Ballou's fingerprints become present again as he utilizes a recording technique on the bass drum that makes each hit resonate like a bomb impact. It's a subtle, but fantastic move on the producer's part.

"Concrete Mountain" goes back to the experimental noise, but fails to achieve the sort of beauty that "Red Room Blues" did. Instead we get a clattering mixture of sounds that simply goes on too long. Follow ups like "Dreams are Class" with its half-drunk back-porch pessimism, and "Butch's Dream" with its gypsy romp that rests somewhere between M. Ward and rockabilly exhibit the stronger aspects of the band's songwriting skills.

Mount Hope is an amazing album rooted in Americana from a band that could have gone so many other routes. The band touch on everything from folk and country to big-band-indie and pulsing slow-core in a manner that feels completely natural and refined. If you have any interest in traditional American tones, you will find something to love on this album.