If the review is late, just say we were waiting for the title to become timely-- released last October, Snow is the official solo debut of Curt Kirkwood. You might know him as the guitarist for the Meat Puppets, who, despite several albums and a storied past-- their beginnings with SST, their early 90s radio hit "Backwater", their disintegration and then rebirth with Curt at the helm in 2000-- are still most widely known for being dragged onstage and covered by Nirvana on the grunge band's Unplugged album and MTV appearance. Aside from just being a tasteful (and indebted) listener, Kurt Cobain had a sharp ear to hear the lurching rhythms and woozy, off-kilter harmonies on Meat Puppets II and realized those songs would translate beautifully in a quieter cast. Years later, Kirkwood isn't running from it: He's the last Puppet standing, and Snow is an austere acoustic record on which his country-rock influences finally take the front seat.
Still, a grown-up and cleaned-up Kirkwood remains a beautiful guitarist and an able songwriter. It's no surprise he approaches these influences with caution and tastefulness, just as he reconciled his virtuosity with the noisy punk-influenced style of his former band. Nor does he crowd the tune. A mandolin plucks busily behind the guileless melody of the title track, hinging on a pleasant, evocative turn of phrase in the chorus ("Just like snow settles on barbed wire"). Country-tinged pop like "Beautiful Weapon" and "Box of Limes" feature great relaxed harmonies from Kirkwood, while the electric guitars growl just beneath the acoustic strumming that dominates the album.
The circular, almost baroque guitar figure and bucket bass on "Gold" nail that same high-altitude, low-oxygen feeling of the Puppets' spacier moments. The more straight-up country tracks like "Movin' On" or the closing "Circles" aren't among my favorites, though they benefit from Kirkwood's careful arranging. "Here Comes Forever" even welcomes the slowing of age by showing the influence of Shari Lewis in its lyrics ("This song is bound to wander on, on and on/ This song could never be too long, no stopping I'm guessing"). But this doesn't mean these songs can't take fascinating left turns with their sleeves still around their wrists. The circuitous square-dance melody of "Light Bulb" drops suddenly for spaced-out chords, distortion, and jazz trumpet. "In Bone" starts as a dirge with barely any accompaniment but Kirkwood's voice and (for once) minimal guitar, but the chorus has the album's fullest arrangement and, arguably, its finest moment.
