For anyone capable of finding Red Krayola's burr-laden rock comforting, Mayo Thompson has likely achieved Lou Reed-status: as long as someone's playing an electric guitar slowly and with an appropriate cadence, the man's voice contains a familiar grace. But whatever level of devotion he engenders, Thompson seems determined to test. On Five American Portraits, Thompson and friends offer very long, very literal descriptions of five characters set loosely to a host of classic tunes. Portraits once again finds Thompson collaborating with Art & Language as well as Jim O'Rourke and the Raincoats' Gina Birch. Each portrait is paired with two or three tracks befitting its background: Jimmy Carter set to "Georgia on My Mind"; George W. Bush to "I've Been Working on the Railroad"; Wile E. Coyote to Bo Diddley's "Roadrunner".
The lyrics are expository, literal, and not necessarily helpful if you don't know what these figures look like. What could reasonably considered the first verse of "John Wayne" proceeds as follows: "The dent on the right side of the crown/ Of the hat/ The outer surface of the right ear/ Some loose skin below the right eyelid/ A crease below the right eye." Finally, after a handful of similar descriptions: "...of John Wayne." (Play along at home: resist the temptation to Google image search Ad Reinhardt.)
Your first listen will probably result in a chuckle-- "Oh, portraits!"-- and your eighth listen will probably result in a chuckle-- Jimmy Carter and Georgia-- and the rest of your listens will probably be confusing. The reason it will take you eight listens to identify "Georgia on My Mind" is because the band retains little distinguishing characteristics save chord progressions (the liner notes are helpful) and Thompson and Birch are even more liberal in their interpretations, even putting aside the fact that they're slotting in these stilted descriptions.
Birch is shriller and more assertive than the female vocalists Thompson yielded to on Sighs Trapped by Liars, which makes her a fine foil, but Portraits' best moments still come when the concepts lull and Thompson's voice settles in. Thompson warms over Bo's hiccupping licks on "Wile E Coyote", and he affects a not-as-gimmicky-as-you-might-think twang (he's from Houston, remember) during "John Wayne", which stands as one of the most listenable 15-minute tracks Thompson's ever been involved in.
Nothing in Thompson's history suggests he is above this sort of bullshit joke, nor is he tentative about art-for-art's sake and the easy answer to the question Portraits poses is "It's both." It's sort of a perfect concept for Thompson: it's not particularly clever or abstract but to actually gather the efforts, time, and resources to release this album-- straight-faced-- seems mad. At this point, though, those who delight in Thompson's particular madness will need no explanations.
