For a time at the beginning of this century, Adam Butler's Vert project was terrifically promising. I maintain that his debut full-length The Köln Konzert is one of the triumphs of musical referencing, the way it alludes to and comments on Keith Jarrett's masterpiece both directly via samples and indirectly via mood and texture. And his follow-up, Nine Types of Ambiguity, released while he was opening for Mouse on Mars during their Idiology tour, integrated warped instrumental pop tendencies with effective busted-transmission ambiance. But Butler has been pretty quiet since releasing the seldom-heard Small Pieces Loosely Joined mini-LP in 2003, which extended some of Nine Types' experiments while moving toward acoustic instrumentation, and then nothing since this record in late 2006.
What first comes to mind is that he might have chosen another pseudonym for Some Beans & an Octopus, since it bears no resemblance to anything previously released under the Vert name. In brief, Some Beans finds Butler trying his hand at vocal-based music that falls somewhere between low-key, Streets-informed rap and rhythmic spoken word. He spins odd and surreal tales over a busy, indistinct backing that alludes to ragtime, hip-hop, AM radio ballads, jazz swing, and Kurt Weil, to name just a few touchstones.
While this admittedly original concoction looks good on paper, the music sounds fussy, static, overcooked and, ultimately, flat. Small samples are packed together into a tight ball and then strung out like ragged clothes on a line; everything sounds two-dimensional and overly trebly with no drive. Butler isn't a bad rapper, though that word isn't quite accurate; his rhythmic sense is decent and there's no reason why he shouldn't be making vocal records. The sound of the thing is the problem. The opening "Gretchen Askew" has a decent chorus hook but the clanging beat piles up handclaps, standup bass, ugly saxes, metal-on-metal percussion, and assorted synth noises without sounding dynamic or forceful. "This One" entwines a halting dancehall beat with a Middle Eastern melody, banging piano, and tabla samples, but each hit sounds noisy and 8-bit cheap.
Oddly for an artist with such a background in subtle textural manipulation, Some Beans is most enjoyable at is quietest and simplest. "October" is basically just a straightforward, sentimental piano ballad, and while Butler's singing voice is serviceable at best, the track's warmth and quietly effective hints of processing are a welcome respite from the clutter.
For the most part I like ambiguity and mystery in music-- to put on a record and wonder to myself what exactly the artist might have been thinking. With so much music that slots so easily into well-worn, widely understood categories, it's nice when a record resists such classification. But sometimes, the "What was he thinking?" question never yields to actual listening pleasure, and you wind up with something intriguing and possibly even courageous that you nonetheless never have the slightest desire to listen to.
