As the leader of New Zealand band the Clean, David Kilgour has been responsible for some of the most carefree and jubilant rock music ever put to tape. The band's debut single "Tally Ho" is punk without posturing; a simple riff played loud, fast, and sloppy, perfectly capturing the excitement of picking up an instrument and making music on it. Some 25 years later, Kilgour seems to be growing older with the same enthusiasm and charm: His latest, The Far Now, is a solid and understated album, at times slow and meandering but never plodding or dull.
Opener "Sun of God" distills the psychedelic pop of Kilgour's previous solo records into immaculate plucked acoustic guitars and a single buzzing drone. This is not music designed for instant gratification; it evolves slowly, and repeats frequently. Still, Kilgour knows to quit when he's ahead; "Sun of God", like the majority of tracks on The Far Now, clocks in at under three minutes. Many of these songs explore a single musical figure or idea with grace and restraint, fading out with minimal fanfare before they become dull or grating.
The relaxed tone of The Far Now particularly suits the album's tighter and more dramatic moments. A potentially schmaltzy string arrangement on "On Your Own" is tempered by the effortlessness of Kilgour's voice. Kilgour expertly tows line between artful familiarity and cliché, especially during the album's strong second half. "I'm Gonna Get Better Lately" seamlessly merges twang and atmosphere. "I Cut My Heart Out Once" evokes the spare, impressionistic folk of Robyn Hitchcock. Instrumental album closer "Out of the Moment" brings to mind the dusty ambiance of Dirty Three, and packs enough subtle builds and dips to maintain its momentum over seven minutes.
Interestingly, The Far Now is quite possibly the most dated-sounding thing Kilgour has ever released. The album's instrumental textures and lyrical concerns (see, especially, "Wave of Love") are miles away from most contemporary music, let alone "cool" contemporary music. But more often than not, Kilgour crafts these anachronisms into artifacts of wistful nostalgia. With so many indie bands shooting for far-reaching and "ambitious" sounds, it's easy for something as unassuming as The Far Now to fall through the cracks. This is not revelatory music, nor does it seek to be. Instead, The Far Now evokes a kind of humble ease seldom heard these days, and rarely executed this well.
