When the duo of Matteah Baim and CocoRosie’s Sierra Casady released their debut album as the Metallic Falcons, 2006's Desert Doughnuts, it seemed to signal the beginning of a vibrant new collaboration. Instead, the Metallic Falcons project went dormant, their lone album a fascinating one-off artifact. A captivating and inscrutable combination of shoegaze textures, obscure art-rock flourishes, and Southwestern desert ambiance, Desert Doughnuts was the type of album that seemed specially tailored to one day become a cult favorite. (Fittingly, Fred Armisen recently included Desert Doughnuts on a list of criminally underrated music.)
In the interim, Matteah Baim has since released two atmospheric solo albums, each with a different group of backing musicians, neither of which sounded much like Desert Doughnuts or even much specifically like each other. Falling Theater, her third solo album and first since 2009’s Laughing Boy, doesn’t really evoke the Metallic Falcons’ soundscape either, but it does find Baim in full command of her emerging skills as a songwriter and performer. Featuring a top-notch group of collaborators, including Antony Hegarty and MGMT’s James Richardson, Falling Theater is Baim’s most full-bodied and cohesive solo work to date, and perhaps the first in her catalog that might someday rival Desert Doughnuts in its cult appeal.
Baim’s most crucial collaborator on Falling Theater is veteran arranger/composer Maxim Moston, who has previously worked with such artists as Antony and the Johnsons, Rufus Wainwright, and William Basinski. Moston’s arrangements here bring a sumptuous depth of field to Baim’s gentle songs, calling to mind the late Robert Kirby’s work with Vashti Bunyan or Shelagh McDonald; his touch is an ideal match for Baim’s increasingly expressive vocals, and such tracks as the gorgeous “All Night” or “Blossom” are packed with subtle but unexpected instrumental shades and turns. Baim’s style as a songwriter is folk-like and direct, and though her songs typically lack oversized choruses her discreet melodies do find a way of grabbing hold.
In addition to her musical work, Baim is also a talented visual artist, and Falling Theater reportedly draws inspiration from the slow decay of America’s ornate pre-war movie theaters, as depicted on Lauren Dukoff’s album artwork and the work of photographer Matt Lambros. Although the album’s lyrics are generally too oblique to reflect this inspiration directly, there is a romantic sense of fading opulence in these songs, evoking quiet evenings spent in theaters baroque and lavish enough to have once been referred to as movie palaces. Nevertheless, Baim’s simple, haiku-like lyrics (“Peach tree in moonlight, can I stand like you tonight”) give little away, but tend to involve those moments in life where you turn your full attention to an otherwise overlooked detail.
One common thread that courses throughout Baim’s music has been her deliberate use of space and silence. The Metallic Falcons used open spaces in their music to conjure the vast nighttime desert, while Baim’s earlier solo works featured moments of silence that could sometimes translate as hesitation, as though the performers weren’t entirely sure where to follow the music next. On Falling Theater, Baim’s use of dynamic space feels much more balanced and strategic, as when the hushed “Familiar Way” briefly descends into a shimmering wordless drone that extends itself into circular chime of “Blindman’s Hands". And on delicate pieces such as “Dude” or “Good For Two,” Baim’s duet with Antony Hegarty, she is able to achieve a sweet date-night intimacy before allowing the songs to dissipate into the night like spent neon from the marquee.
The deftness of her touch, coupled with Moston’s thoughtful arrangements, gives the album such a seamless quality that its individual tracks can sound almost jarring when isolated from one another. Fortunately, given its brief length (8 tracks in an EP-like 25 minutes) and considerable musical charms, Falling Theater is a listening experience that seems designed for easy repetition, ready to be queued up again before the house lights have a chance to come up.
