Mike Watt is legendary for many things, most of them having to do with his time as the bassist of Minutemen, fIREHOSE, and the reformed Stooges. But he’s also renowned for being so approachable, a humbly gregarious guy who’s likely to be standing around his equally legendary van after a solo show, shooting the shit with whomever feels like hanging out. He’s even been known to let fans hop in the van and go for a ride—anyone who’s ever seen the Minutemen documentary We Jam Econo can attest to the fact that he loves to drive and hold forth at the same time—and that open-door policy is reflected in the generosity of soul his playing has always possessed.
Watt’s current band Il Sogna del Marinaio is the musical equivalent of one of those shit-shooting sessions. Along with a pair of Italians, guitarist Stefano Pilia and drummer Andrea Belfi, he recorded 2013’s La Busta Gialla, a promising workout of sinewy rock that nonetheless felt halting and awkward. It was a prelude to Canto Secondo, the trio’s superior second album. Where La Busta Gialla was made over long stretches of time, and almost entirely across long distances, by a band that started recording only a week into its existence, Canto Secondo flaunts an ease and familiarity that can only come through collaboration and experience, not to mention proximity. The bulk of Canto Secondo was recorded with all three members in the same room at the same time, and it shows in tracks like the instrumental “Alain”, with its lopsided prog ambulation propped up by Watt’s melted-rubber low-end, and “Mountain Top”, a circular, gently jangled meditation that has the feel of a post-punk koan.
“Sailor Blues” is Canto Secondo’s longest track, and at a trim five-minutes-plus, it demonstrates just how concentrated and concise the trio’s internal language has become. From Pilia’s knotty yet fluid guitar lines to Watt’s punching, dancing bass, the song descends into an ethereal wash of soft-focus distortion and playfully unresolved bends of melody. The touchstones become more sharply defined on “Us in Their Land”; in a start-stop fit of squealing virtuosity that anxiously mashes My War-era Black Flag into Starless and Bible Black-era King Crimson, the song hastily builds a scaffolding, clambers up it, then pulls it out from under its feet. Pilia’s whispery, heavily accented poetry not only clicks, it evokes a strange kind of dreamy menace, working strictly on a level of phonetic atmosphere.
The problem with any musicians Watt might pick up, here and in the future, is that they’re drawn to Watt because of his legacy, and rightly so. But that also means they’re playing in his shadow, and that they’re fans first and foremost—which can lead to songs like “Animal Farm Tango”. “Humans are not welcome in the sick animal farm tango,” Watt recites in a gravelly, avuncular, spoken-word segment as dry as post-apocalyptic dust, sounding for all the world like Allen Ginsberg on The Clash’s “Ghetto Defendant”. The music itself, though, is reminiscent of something much closer to home: the Minutemen’s “Do You Want New Wave Or Do You Want the Truth?”, all fluttery notes and swaying spaces. But Canto Secondo’s strength is in its effortless balance between Watt’s formidable past and his still potent future. Better yet, that balance feels instinctual, and at times downright spiritual. Il Sogna del Marinaio may not have come anywhere near Watt’s formative bands in terms of sheer songwriting, or the ability to rattle the heart and mind—but on Canto Secondo, they’ve settled into a groove that’s taken on the gabby pattern of a classic Watt spiel.
