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Rating: Undoubtedly, there are records that are "objectively" absolute masterpieces, whose beauty probably shines always and in any possible facet of reality. These are records we could define as universal and Simply Perfect. Then there are other records that may not be music milestones but still shine in a very particular and personal way. These are records that live quietly in hidden niches, needing that particular environment and the right light, and they connect only to those precise memories. These are those particular sets of notes that each of us has inside and which are thus an integral part of us, and that we can therefore also define as "simply perfect." Now you're probably nodding, with a smile on your face and your simply perfect records floating in your head. But why, I wonder, do we have records that seem simply perfect to us? The answer is not simple: the one I can give is this: perhaps because for us and our soul, those records are Perfectly Simple.
And then, if on one side we have Lennon and McCartney, the Zeppelin, the Pink Floyd or Bob Dylan, on the other we might glimpse people like Tortoise, Bark Psychosis, the last Battisti or Nick Drake. Or people like Stephin Merritt and the Magnetic Fields. Therefore, when we talk about good Merritt, we are perhaps citing one of the greatest "melodic minds" of recent years. Pop becomes a simple and fleeting brushstroke, yet at the same time daring and elegant. Simply perfect and perfectly simple, indeed. Especially in this work dated 1994: listen to the opening track "Lonely Highway" and you'll easily understand everything; it could be one of the quintessential pop tracks of all time... Let's talk about "fragrances": this work smells of roads. Deserted and lonely roads connecting remote villages or bustling cities. With the setting sun. Or who knows, maybe it's the dead of night: the sky is dark and starry, and there are only the shining road stripes keeping us company. Perhaps we are on the vast and remote roads of the Western United States, perhaps on the old steam trains of Tennessee, perhaps anywhere in the world. And we're moving, we're rolling on the road, maybe we're tired, and simple but essential melodies accompany us. Merritt here unfolds a delightful pop tinged with country, folk, and western atmospheres, with arrangements very essential and succinct, yet decidedly perfect. You hear the banjo and delicate electronic percussion, the flutes and subtle guitars. Practically a magical framework on which ten pieces rest, each more beautiful and intriguing than the other, thanks to a warm and magnetic voice that stands between Donovan and Cash. The melodic cues are grand and the choruses truly memorable, the music is at times sweet and at times overwhelming. It seamlessly transitions from the hypnotic and evocative "I have the moon" and "Born on a train" to the light ballads "Crown of Drifters" and "Two characters in search of a country song", which have a scent of bygone times. We then move from the dusty country atmospheres of "Fear of trains" and "Sunset city" to absolute masterpieces like "Lonely highway," "When the open road is closing in" and the instrumental "Dust bowl." The album closes with this track: Imagine a light dust ball rolling solitary along a deserted road. It makes no noise, yet moves with a vital and mysterious melody, perhaps one that permeates the entire album. An album I haven't delved into excessively from a strictly musical point of view because I leave you the opportunity to discover all the melodic flights that compose it. Let this become for you also a simply perfect album, just a couple of listens. It's all yours...
"The charm of the road stripe..."
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