She don't use Linkous. She don't use Tweedy. She don't use the Jayhawks, or any of these. She uses Varnaline. Varnaline.
Varnaline, the brainchild of singer/songwriter Anders Parker, former member of indie-rockers Space Needle is what she uses, and she uses them for a reason. Varnaline fills her need for vocal twang and conflicted self-expression that she can only find in the alt-country genre, except Varnaline delivers the goods with significantly less friction. Less grit, more moisture. Warm, soothing moisture. Like a salve. A salve that soon anesthetizes. Numbing. Soporific. Unexciting, unremarkable and passive. More Ben Gay than Vaseline. But certainly not coarse, and certainly inoffensive. Easy to digest.
But engaging, no. Briefly, an overview of what you'll be missing when you don't buy this album: "Still Dream" features Parker singing in a hushed/muffled voice about how he "still dreams." It's got some double-bass, some mandolin, a steel-stringed acoustic guitar, a birdie chirping, and a little drummer boy towards the end. Very drab, despite the birdie's best efforts.
Then comes the requisite gritty-rocker called "Song," which 'isn't good' in the same way the Steve Miller Band 'isn't good.' The song after that is nondescript. Proceeding to track four, "Blackbird Fields," something in Parker's bag of tricks begins to click. It opens with nifty production, all feedbacky and such, then settles into pure, fingerpicked mope. Parker revisits his hushed/muffled voice, to greater effect this time, and raises the hopes of the listener (just a little bit).
Track five, "Blue Flowers on the Highway," dashes those hopes. Parker lays down hackneyed übertwang, replete with übertwangy stringed something-or-other (Dobro? Lap steel? Tell me your name). It's got a pop song structure, and had me thinking I hadn't listened to Chris Isaak's Baja Sessions in a while (meaning three years).
Do you have the idea yet? The slow learners say no, so let us plod further along this 15 track boulevard: "The Drunkard's Wish" is a brief banjo solo played by a retard. The not-that-horrible "Difference" cuts the retard off short, then sets into a predictable folk/slow-core stylee (probably not composed by a retard, unless said retard were highly functional). "Anything from Now" does not improve the album. No, wait-- it actually does. It sort of rocks. But "Down the Street" definitely doesn't. Horrendous lyrics, a ridiculous use of a glottal vocal flair (see: Britney Spears), and a shameless rehashing of the shitty melody Parker already used once on "Song."
As track nine comes to a close, I have had it, and I'm checking out. No more Varnaline for Haywood. Six more tracks and I'll be kicking my dog, whom I love and who, as of now, still loves me back. The warm, moist soothing has officially reached my nerve endings. Numbing.
