Country music signifiers have been exploited in some truly atrocious ways over the years: gratuitous pedal steel interludes, lyrics peppered with highways and cardinal directions, people from Connecticut asking for more "gih-tahr" in the mix. Such ill-conceived attempts at evoking American roots music virtually always sound forced, if not downright stupid, and currently seem to plague so many Americana and alt-country releases. From that angle, I approached Small Town Murder Scene, the second album from roots-informed Canadians the FemBots with a healthy level of skepticism, but much like Summer Hymns' beautiful Voice Brother and Sister, Small Town Murder Scene won me over in spite of my preconceptions. What really impresses me about this record, and what sets the FemBots apart from their more derivative contemporaries, is how the band cultivates a truly busted ambiance without ever seeming remotely contrived or manipulative.
Unlike Voice Brother and Sister, which caught me completely off guard upon its release in 2000, Small Town Murder Scene came to me with nothing but the highest recommendations. Darlings of the wildly supportive Toronto music scene, the FemBots have garnered rave reviews from local journalists, musicians, and record store owners, and rightfully so. Small Town Murder Scene is a humble, thoroughly charming record-- the kind you want to tell people about precisely because it never ostensibly announces its own strength.
The record opens with a call to attention-- a rattle and a scream-like siren-- before segueing into the gorgeously downbeat "Broken and Blue". The amount of open space on this record is striking, as the band reifies the gap between sounds to great effect. "Broken and Blue" makes use of sparse guitar, reverb-soaked percussion, and train whistle screeches, but the palpably spatial arrangement of these elements seems to be the primary element holding the record together. "Prison Memoirs of an Anarchist" most directly evokes the aforementioned Summer Hymns, with its organ high in the mix, subtle flourishes of bells, and My Morning Jacket-esque finale.
The FemBots continue to explore their penchant for unconventional percussion on "A Million Dead End Jobs", which follows the insistent ticking of a clock for its entire duration. Again, a shimmering organ is introduced about halfway through the song, one of many subtle additions that greatly alters the overall tone of the song by the three-minute mark. Only on "Mom's Ether Blues" do the FemBots' manipulated country-isms lapse into obnoxiousness, eschewing their usual melodic strength in favor of trite blues noodling.
Small Town Murder Scene is punctuated with thoughtful instrumentals, occasionally recalling David Pajo's early work as Aerial M. "The Transit Song" is a minimalist epic of clean and dirty electric guitar, piano and organ. "Theme from a Radio Play" comes across like an experiment in pure texture until a blast of bass and drums blows it wide open. Sometimes, the FemBots' reliance on traditional song structures obscures the freshness of their sound, but the effect of the overall listening experience is profound. Right now, it's late afternoon on an unusually nice day, and simply put, listening to Small Town Murder Scene feels just right.
