The Californian songwriter follows his own advice admirably on this generously portioned 16-track double album. On surface, the album (pitched as a more direct and stripped-down back-to-basics proposition) provides exactly what you would expect from the reliably and consistently inspired McCombs. However, there are alluring hypnotic hidden depths lurking within these songs, full of unreliable narrators, possibly deformed memories, self-deprecation, unfiltered but bristly beauty and melodies so irresistibly strong that makes the proceedings feel totally fresh – as well as making you wonder how on earth McCombs is still operating as a cult artist, beloved by those in the know but overlooked by the masses.
Inspired to return to the more economic song structures and arrangements of his earlier releases by the reissue campaign helmed by Domino last year, McCombs has reunited with some of his early collaborators (including Chris Cohen and Jason Quaver of Papercuts) for Interior Live Oak. Recorded across 2024, the album’s diverse sprawl of moods, themes and musical settings (ranging from the grand gothic country-folk of “Who Removed The Cellar Door?” with its echoes of Gene Clark’s brilliantly overcooked 1974 masterpiece No Other to the frantic garage rockabilly punk of the positively sizzling, ranting and raving title track) is united by an organic, live-in-the-room feel, McCombs’s expressively versatile yet unshowy mastery of acoustic and electric guitar and a remarkably alluring melodic directness: whether revving up the new wave-ish pop chops of “Miss Mabee” or slowing down to a foreboding, slightly Crazy Horse-ian crawl for the mysterious and murky “A Girl Named Dogie”, you’re never more than a few verses away from a killer hook amidst Interior Live Oak.
The highlights deserve to be ranked amongst McCombs finest
achievements so far. The unhurried, heartfelt glow of low-lit laments
“Missionary Bell” and “I’m Not Ashamed” excels in masterful balladry,
with the gently electrified 1969 Velvet Underground meets Acetone slow
motion groove of the latter proving particularly potent. The sparkling
guitars and caffeinated choogle of lead single “Peace”, meanwhile,
offers a delicious contrast between the lyrics’ call for calm and
harmony and the music’s prettily chiming yet also nervily energised
unstoppable forward-momentum. The intricately picked folk-rock pulse of
“Home At Last” offers a bittersweet epitaph to someone who reckons they
are ‘’unremarkable in every way/in my time forgotten’’ without a hint of
self-pity or despair. Perhaps best of all, the jagged chug of
“Priestess” (which McCombs has described as an elegy to a late friend)
combines lived-in flashbacks of a life of a remarkable woman unbowed by
bad luck and unjust turns with references to John Prine and Black
Panthers that – whilst linked to McCombs’s formative experiences in the
Bay Area – subtly steer the majestic tune towards a different time.
Ultimately, Interior Live Oak hits the richly
rewarding territory of classic double albums by making the listener
wonder whether its impact would be even stronger were it slimmed down to
a single album whilst making it impossible to identify which tracks
could be justifiably ditched to downsize the proceedings down to a more
conventional 40 minute running order.
