1. My Pet Rat St Michael
2. Cotton Candy Tenth Power
3. Make Sure They Hear
4. Sleeping Beauty
5. A Long Tribute To My City
6. Homeland Pastoral
7. Roll Away My Stone
8. Green Eyes
9. Cobh
10. I Am Fassbinder
11. Song Of The Mole
12. Guitar Lover
Is Mark Eitzel a candy ass? That's not really open to review. In terms of geography and his muse,
Mark Eitzel seems to be eternally restless, forever looking at the world
through a stranger's eye. His solo career has taken in more detours than Kate
Moss on the way to rehab. How about re-recording some of your classic songs
with a group of Greek musicians? Dashing off a record with Peter Buck from
REM? Jazz? An LP of cover versions?
Much like Alex Chilton of Big
Star, Eitzel's solo work is impossible to pigeonhole. You're never sure what
you're going to get - save that everything that Eitzel puts
his name to has the kite mark of quality songwriting.
Candy Ass picks up the baton from 2001's Invisible Man. Equipped with a
laptop, his guitar and a copy of Pro Tools, Eitzel set about filtering his songs
through his love of abstract electronica. This is less the spineless
clubfriendly beats and guitars of Dido or Everything But The
Girl, more the liquid mercury of Aphex Twin or Oval. It carries
a greater depth of sound, more rough edges and dirty beats, than the recent
Bob Mould explorations into similar territory.
On Make Sure They Hear, the foray into the murky world of electronic textures
makes perfect sense. The drum loops, subterranean bass and phased string tones
coalesce into a throbbing sonic backdrop. It recalls the bruised and pithy
work of My Computer or Junior Boys.
The track's dynamics are
brilliantly executed. The whispered vocal rises, as the bubbling electronics
riefly fade out. Lost in the void his voice charged with emotion as he sings
"The day will rise, the sun will come". The beat drops back in. It's the kind
of climax that pulses through house music. Here it is stripped bare, reduced to
its neutrons and electrons. In its crackle and whine you can glimpse the frayed
cables of his robot heart.
The harsh, bright metallic sounds of fellow San Franciscans Matmos
sputter through the electronic tracks. Clicks, cuts and digital scree that
sound like the brakes on a tube train slammed on hard vibrate across the
backdrops. It's a treble heavy sound. A swirling mist of high-end hiss and the
micro slicing and dicing of beats.
It works beautifully on Homeland Pastoral. A hymn composed by cyber ghosts
punching numbers into damaged mobile phones. His ode to cult German film maker
Rainer Werner Fassbinder slips along the same binary highway. Of the
electronic material the strongest track is A Loving Tribute to My City. A
synthetic, rumbling backdrop thuds and drones. The melody oxidized sliver. A
child's voice weaves low in the mix adding sweet counter point. The dubby bass
and drums evoke a wistful mood would allow it to sit comfortable on a
Boards of Canada release. It's The Orb's Little Fluffy Clouds,
refracted through a winter fog.
Not all the songs are adventures inside the digital sphere. Green Eyes is a
partial collaboration with Calexico and their track Praskovia.
Electronic textures are pitched against a rumbling lounge bar piano. The
programmed beat starts as simple dumb and rocking as The Ramones before
it slowly twists itself into a thumping disco monster. About half way through
the brass arrives, adding warmth and a little swing .
Green Eyes acts as a musical portal between the more electronic tracks and
the softer sounding acoustic based numbers. Sleeping Beauty, St Michael My Pet
Rat and Roll Away My Stone prove once again that Eitzel is pretty much peerless
when it comes to sketching out the thin line between love and ruin. His voice
carries in it the sound of a thousand lonely lives. The lyrics are as honest
and unforgiving as the last rites. They are hopeful and
aching, not relentlessly grim, but they're focused and sharp and pull no
punches.
There is much to admire here, and much to cherish.
Candy Ass may baffle some long-term fans; it may also draw in some from the
electronic fringes. Long may Mark Eitzel remain wired and willing to
push the boundaries of his musical skills. A restless
stranger maybe, but a candy ass he is not.