Scott Kelly Steve Von Till Wino
Songs of Townes Van Zandt

There are albums on which you could write a review even before having listened to them (or at least so it would seem).

Let’s take this tribute dedicated to the American singer-songwriter Townes Van Zandt. Just keep in mind the solo endeavors of Steve Von Till and Scott Kelly (former bandmates in Neurosis) to know where this is heading; as for Wino, who certainly needs no introduction, it's not hard to make predictions, even without paying attention to his solo works (“Punctuated Equilibrium” and “Adrift”). Nine tracks, three each, the typical apocalyptic western mezzorettata: a guitar, a voice, occasionally a slide-guitar to round off the sparse arrangements, and an abundance of love for the long history of folk-singers dressed in stars and stripes: this is what you expect from a title like “Songs of Townes Van Zandt” and the three names above it. What else could be expected?

And when all is said and done, this is what passes through your ears, even if the minutes are slightly more (thirty-seven to be precise). But one thing was not anticipated: the beauty of Van Zandt's lyrics and music, whose spirit survives the versions released by the three bards, who prefer to adhere devotedly to the original tracks rather than revolutionizing what the honored artist has already conveyed. John Townes Van Zandt (1944 – 1997) certainly does not enjoy great notoriety, but he is undoubtedly a cult figure within American country music. Reviving him and giving him the proper recognition in the year 2012 are three champions of heavy music, who for the occasion unplug their amplifiers to engage in an earnest exploration of the art of a figure who was evidently not just a youthful idol for them, but also and above all a fundamental milestone along their formative journey: a heartfelt act of recognition with which they have, until now, engaged in live performances (Von Till, in truth, had already put into print another Van Zandt piece, “Willow Tree,” which features proudly on the track-list of his last solo album “A Grave is a Grim Horse”), and which now finally becomes official with this release which, more than anything else, appears as a personal outpouring, an opportunity to share an artist unknown to most, as well as a test (for us) to measure the actual singer-songwriter maturity achieved by the musicians involved. Let us then examine the details.

At first glance, the pieces by Steve Von Till and Scott Kelly tend to resemble each other: not only because the two come from the same band, but also because their solo careers (now well-established) have been running on the same tracks for some time. Minimal settings and a rough, anguished voice are the axes on which their conversation extends, but in terms of interpretative intensity, Von Till seems to be significantly ahead of his partner: a Von Till that appears further matured from how we last saw him in “A Grave is a Grim Horse,” and that’s not a small thing. If “If Needed You” (affectionately dedicated to his partner) is almost a lullaby where the internal thrust becomes an intimate and fragile love dedication, the leap in quality is palpable in the superb and visionary “Black Crow Blues” and “The Snake Song”: the first benefits from a vocal performance nothing short of excellent (for context: we are in Mark Lanegan’s territory), the second (more complex in arrangement) is measured by masterful ritual beats and traversed by icy flecks of effects, in which the space-psychedelic tremors of the Harvestman project are revived. What can be said: excellent, perfect, a sublime interpretation, in the service of timeless tracks. Had the entire album rested on these levels, our judgment would have been without a doubt enthusiastic.

But “Songs of Townes Van Zandt” also casts some shadows: Scott Kelly, who still defends himself well, shows a few more uncertainties in his reinterpretations; his work feels slightly more rigid, he doesn’t quite delve into the songs as his neurotic brother does, but merely tames them, paying the price of his limitations, both executively and interpretively. His voice does not vibrate, does not glide fluidly, his fingers continue to weigh kilograms on the fragile strings of an acoustic guitar: the Kelly singer-songwriter doesn’t quite exist, his performance seems an acoustic adaptation of his Neurosis (and this was already evident from his solo work), as if it’s not so natural for him to emancipate himself from the electric dimension. Thus, the otherwise beautiful “St. John The Gambler” appears to us in a fatigued attire, made of elementary arpeggios (hypnotic as long as they would not have been out of place in an album like “A Sun that Never Sets”), led by a voice that drags forward searching for the right placement, but not always finding the circle’s square. The same can be said for “Lungs” which inside features shadowy streaks of electric distortions, which certainly do not overthrow the acoustic setup of the album, but definitely highlight the close link with the working method employed within the mother band. The seven minutes of “Tecumseh Valley,” finally, are another seven very good, epic, landscape, visionary minutes, but the sensation remains that magic lies entirely in Van Zandt's writing.

Then there’s that old fox Wino, joining the crew (the connection is likely the release in 2009 of the self-titled album from Shrinebuilder, a project shared with Scott Kelly), but making history on his own: his nasal and alcoholic singing diverges from the dark and melancholic discourses of the other two, his approach to the guitar is more ragged and rotten, his personal tribute to Van Zandt feels more like a desert blues jam session than an intimate exploration within the corridors of the soul. “Rake” tears through the night’s mantle to let in the light and the dryness of a hostile and blinding sun. “Nothin’” and the concluding “A Song For” are two other rides that taste of sand, cacti, dust, and whiskey, but even here the discourse made for Kelly applies: it’s the intrinsic strength of the originals that prevails, Wino gives us nothing but his honest (but also didactic) interpretation, not bringing a true added value.

It’s the artistic genius of Van Zandt that emerges forcefully across the grooves of these nine ballads (albeit selected without any claim of exhaustiveness), although there remains the certainty that the interpreters should not face overly harsh criticisms, given the dose of sentiment and passion poured into the operation (an operation, for the record, strongly wanted by the tour manager of the three musicians, Ansgar Glade). Timeless songs, whose enormous potential can be sensed even without having listened to them, so apparent is their beauty and relevance; small essays of a troubled precariousness, of a solitary oblivion, shining with an intrinsic and timeless brilliance, a blazing and tormented emotionality, plagued by depression and alcohol abuse, which expresses itself through visions, sensations, landscape descriptions, rural settings, simple stories, rooting to the native land, a sense of isolation from everything: a wild yet fragile poetic, that of a tormented soul with which reflect the eternal afflictions of man, love, solitude, death. “Songs of Townes Van Zandt,” therefore, is not only the opportunity to rediscover a pen that has written some of the most intense pages in the history of American songwriting, but also a flower that slowly unfolds within us, a bridge to us, a dive into our interiority, the invitation to ride on imaginary horses, saddled with melancholy and disenchantment, the call to undertake in solitude, with nothing but our own resources, this complicated journey that is life.