Originally from the tiny village of Bison, S.D., (pop. 400 or so), singer-songwriter Darren Jackson knows firsthand what little comfort the landscape of the Northern Great Plains provides for its inhabitants. With the inhospitable monotony of its countryside, its brutally unforgiving winters, and summers when the crops either wither from no rain or are pummeled by fist-sized hailstones, the upper plain states practically beg travelers to keep on moving, assuring them that something better is bound to appear just over the next horizon.
The West Is the Future, Kid Dakota's second album for Low's Chairkickers Union label, is steeped in the sound of the open prairie. With assistance from Low bassist Zak Sally, drummer Christopher McGuire, and guitarist Erik Appelwick, Jackson's songs are filled with vast, empty spaces frequently interrupted by turbulent dust storms and winds which carry distant smoke signals and the barest echoes of cowboy campfire twang. Jackson's silvery voice flows through this parched scenery like water from a glacier-fed spring, making him sound like a Badlands version of Thom Yorke.
Throughout the album, Jackson looks upon those seeking solace from the harsh realities of this world with a sympathetic mixture of pity and scorn. On opener "Pilgrim" he sings, "Howdy there pilgrim/ You're not transcendental/ There's nothing beyond you/ There's nothing to hope for" with the head-shaking disapproval of a pioneer watching his new neighbor building a rickety cabin in the flood plain. This theme of futility continues on the Sparklehorse-like epic "Homesteader" ("The windmills are spinning to no avail. But nature's indifferent/ It's beyond God's control") while the guitars spit sand and the background vocals of Low's Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker circle like hungry crows.
Regrettably, there are points where Jackson loses the map and succumbs to the pitfalls of narrative songwriting, as on the stereotype-ridden reservation portrait "Pine Ridge" ("With their government check they go buy liquor/ and it makes their thoughts grow dim and dimmer"), a track that's still almost saved by the closing powwow pound of Sally and McGuire.\xCA Less fortunate is the over-long dirge "Starlight Motel" which operates under the cliched assumption (inspired by Norman Bates and David Lynch) that mysterious evil forces lurk behind every blinking "Vacancy" sign in the country.
Also less-than-completely-successful is "10,000 Lakes", a song that's very obviously a deeply personal tribute to Jackson's current home: Minnesota. In addition to all those lakes, Minnesota is also home to several prominent drug treatment centers-- including one where Jackson was able to overcome his own chemical dependency. Given that heavy emotional backdrop, it seems odd that Jackson spends so much of the song trying to lighten the mood with throwaway lines like "I didn't come for ice-fishing/ I didn't come for duck huntingÉI'm no fan of the Vikings or subzero wind chills." These smirking jokes ring hollow, especially when contrasted with the understated beauty of the song's acoustic arrangement and Jackson's slippery, elongated delivery of the heartfelt chorus "I came for the taper/ I came to get better."
But although there are some rough patches to negotiate, The West Is the Future contains ample evidence of an ambitious, talented band just beginning to find its legs.\xCA Judging from the themes of these songs, Kid Dakota wouldn't approve overly optimistic predictions of their future. So suffice it to say that here the band displays a potential similar to what you might've detected on Modest Mouse's earliest releases had you been paying better attention, and that it should be fun to see what Jackson and his cohorts can deliver.
