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Elvis Perkins is an artist sometimes better known for his heritage
rather than for his actual music. Father Anthony Perkins (who of course played
Norman Bates in Psycho) died on September 12, 1992, due to
complications related to HIV/AIDS. Mother Berry Berenson, a well-known
photographer, was on board American Airlines Flight 11 on September
11, 2001, when it hit the World Trade Center.
While Elvis's debut, Ash Wednesday, was begun before his mother's
death, the event proved to be a shaping influence, spawning an album
that is a profound and, at times, difficult meditation on death and
grief. Critically and, some might say, criminally under-appreciated,
Ash Wednesday was viewed by many as a solid, if unspectacular,
release.
In Dearland is particularly welcome insofar as it puts Perkins's
musicianship squarely in the centre and lays to rest any lingering
criticism that he lacks variety or the capacity to write great songs.
It's an album that exudes confidence, which may be in part because
he's settled with a set band, who are the eponymous Dearland.
The results of their collaboration with Perkins are nothing short
of brilliant. Perkins's voice soars in a way it never has before.
Lyrically, he's moved past the deep sadness of Ash Wednesday, and this
only serves to make his music more accessible. Shampoo kicks off the
album with a slow-burn, harmonica driving proceedings along,
showcasing intricate, intelligent lyrics: "You are worth your weight
in gold/ You are worth your weight in sorrow/ Though you'll never know
why".
Hey is Perkins as you have never heard him. Clocking in at a
relatively short three minutes, it's full of Buddy Holly
guitar-pop that will actually have you, wait for it, dancing. I Heard
Your Voice In Dresden keeps up the fine pace and re-confirms Perkins's
skill as a storyteller. He's been compared to Bob Dylan in the '70s
and this is a song that shows why.
Chains, Chains, Chains brings in a bluesy note, but still has
mischievous swagger. Doomsday picks this up and expands, delivering a
drunken-sounding, classically American anthem on living for the
present, which bows out on a massive sing-along moment. It also
provides the most deeply ironic and bittersweet moment, when Perkins
sings: "Now in all my wildest dreams/ it never once was seen/ that
doomsday would fall anywhere near Tuesday". Both his Mother and Father
died on a Tuesday. The bravado of daring lightening to strike three
times should raise a wry smile from Perkins fans.
123 Goodbye and How's Forever Been bring the album to a close. The
former is something of a torch song to moving on from former lovers
that is bursting with a sense of emotional release and new found
freedom in the act of letting go. The latter looks back more fondly,
perhaps from a safe distance, and laments what is lost: "Remember,
let's plant a flowering tree/ here in the rubble and debris/ I'll tend
it with a tear/ if you only hold my hand/ ours forever, baby".
The joy of Perkins is that his music is complex, intelligent and
thorny. In a review you can merely sketch an outline. This doesn't do
justice to In Dearland. Perkins is idiosyncratic: in parts
hilariously dry, in others mournful, but always poetic. Above all he
is human and raw. There are bound to be some people that just don't
get it. For those that do, you are looking at a sure contender for
your album of the year.
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