When Shearwater released Palo Santo in 2006, it wasn't simply a strong collection of moody folk songs. It was a stark, seductive, and mysterious crooked path through genres already tapped and exhausted in recent years, played as precious but still malleable in the hands of Okkervil River sideman Jonathan Meiburg and his band. It was a big leap for Shearwater, but more than that, it was a record that tapped into something intangible-- in this case a kind of backwoods atmosphere that's subtly creepy without any strain for authenticity. With the hiss of radio static, instruments whispering from deep within the mix, Meiburg's falsetto so gentle and lilting it was nearly inaudible at times, it felt more like a fog than an album in its gentler moments, yet had melodies so resilient they were startling in toothier tracks like "White Waves" or "Red Sea, Black Sea".
So they decided to fuck with it. Leaving the nest of Misra for the wide open skies made available by Matador, Palo Santo is re-released this year not only with bonus material, but fully re-recorded versions of five songs and a brand-new cover that's like a Maurice Sendak drawing of a vampire marshmallow Peep. From the beginning of this expanded edition, things have changed: Meiburg's falsetto is clear as a bell on opener "La Dame et la Licorne", intermittent chords on piano suddenly sparkle, and his wail of "Bring back my boy!" is a sudden, stunning eyebrow-raiser rather than a strain to be heard. For better or for worse-- mostly better-- Palo Santo mk 2 is what these songs would sound like in a live setting: clearer compositions with sometimes subtle, occasionally suffocating arrangements.
And while it's got a little less of that lo-fi romance, it's hardly compromising Meiburg's vision. For all its quiet mystery, I no longer have to put my head next to the speaker to hear all of "La Dame et la Licorne", mixed far too quietly before. There are moments one might miss from the original, notably the ominous throb of keyboard under the banjo pluck of "Red Sea, Black Sea" now erased, which previously made the song for me. It now moves from calm to cacophonous in its final moments, rather than a sustaining tension throughout.
"Red Sea" is probably the most glaring change, whereas in the recut piano-driven tracks "Seventy-Four, Seventy-Five" and "Johnny Viola", they're simply clearer and crisper, have more audible bass and trumpet, a little more crunch from the guitars, or-- in the case of "Seventy"-- more discernible dynamics during its Talk Talk-esque spells. What we're left with is being face-to-face with the song itself, not its atmosphere. "Hail, Mary" alone maybe tips its hand too much, with a new full-band heave that doesn't need the full stops to underline its slippery pre-chorus, though the following crescendo is a little more cathartic now without the Casio blurts from the original.
The appendix EP offers a tantalizing look at what's to come in the cool, airy pluck of "My Only Boy", but barring a few ambient diversions, it's mostly what you'd expect-- folkier, mustier demos of the quieter moments of Palo Santo, songs that offer little revelation aside from the fact that a strong song sounds just as good when unplugged (or further unplugged). As a standalone EP it wouldn't work, but it's a thoughtful addendum, even if this new edition would be worth picking up even without it. The original Misra version remains worth seeking out if you haven't, but what made the record a huge step forward, changing Shearwater from side project to a "real band," remains intact: an effortless plurality of mood that stands in stark contrast with their earlier records, less predictable instrumentation in songs like "Red Sea, Black Sea" or "Failed Queen", and the strength of Meiburg's voice. Most bands don't have this sort of chance, nor take it-- I imagine many would be afraid of jinxing what's an already successful record. But there's only so much you can do to foul up a song that works, and fixing what may or may not have been broken doesn't hurt Palo Santo. A great record simply got a notch or two greater.
