There's something elemental about Califone. The ideas are fragmented but fundamental. Gravity, blood, warmth, pain, dirt, desire, and decay-- this is the stuff of this band. Not surprisingly, it never crosses my mind that Tim Rutili's songs might be "too personal" for me to understand; on the contrary, I hear in this music an impressive representation of some weird collective dream that I can take part in. In some ways, I think of Califone more as a mode of perception than a band.
When I had a chance to speak to Tim Rutili a few years back, I asked him what he'd been listening to recently. I knew that Califone had played some shows with Oval, and I was curious to know if he was digging any of the experimental ambient stuff that had then just started to intrigue me. The first two things he mentioned were the Anthology of American Folk Music box set and Bob Dylan's Basement Tapes. I understood that while he had an interest in technology, nothing was more moving to him than a good song.
With each Califone release, this lean approach becomes more apparent, as the left-field sonic experimentation of the last Red Red Meat album and the first EP give way to earthy textures and a reverence for simplicity. Califone's first full-length, Roomsound, further solidifies this position. The few tunes that don't feature an acoustic guitar front-and-center highlight piano instead, and the focus is squarely on the songs. Given Rutili's lyrical foundation in disjointed mythology, this more grounded approach is a nice fit. Even more importantly, the craft behind the songs gives them enough muscle to stand on their own.
"Trout Silk" sets the tone for the album from the first clipped strum. The title gives an idea of what I'm talking about when I speak of the symbols at the heart of Califone: two strong words with clear associations that, at first glance, don't seem to belong together. But then I let my subconscious take over: could trout silk be that iridescent film that coats the edge of a filet, binding the muscle to the skin? It's a rich image that suits the song, a weary folk lament with dark shadings. The only percussion is a muted kick drum, and a bit of guitar distortion fills the spaces between the acoustic picking.
"Bottles and Bones (Shade & Sympathy)" is where Rutili indulges his pop gifts, as he smiths a chorus hook strong enough to hang a deer carcass on. What really quickens the pulse on this amazing song are the distant background vocals, simple "oooo's" that sound like a chorus of ghosts humming along with the changes. As one of the more rock songs on , "Bottles and Bones" recalls the finest moments off Bunny Gets Paid.
Califone's gradual incorporation of simple keyboard patterns has been a welcome development over the last two records. "Tayzee Nubb," is a downcast song that feels somehow more urban than most of the songs here, possibly because it foregrounds the vaguely cocktail-styled keys. Also, the Brian Deck studio manipulations make themselves known here, but as with the bulk of the record, the effects are played down. Though I've always enjoyed the junkyard orchestra sound he's perfected, I have to admit that the subtlety of the processing here feels right.
Each of the Califone EPs had one song that absolutely killed me. On the first, it was "Silvermine Pictures." The second had "Electric Fence." Nothing here quite matches either of those songs for me, but overall, I'd rank this as Califone's most consistent record. Roomsound is a 49-minute movie that consists of one slow pan across an odd, beautiful and ultimately familiar landscape.
