The low, muffled, guitar-and-vocals of "Hope", the first full song on Rafter Roberts' latest, make it seem as if we're about to hear private sentiments writ large. It is not long, however, before Rafter is helped by some dozen instrumentalists as, along the course of 18 fleeting tracks, he eschews lo-fi folk and gnashes to the beat of his own alternately cacophonous and breathtaking drum. Echoing the frenetic, haphazard experiments of his long, mostly underground career, Rafter here flits between moods, genres, and textures, discarding any specific one when it threatens to shackle his expressive freedom.
Whether this is always successful is another matter. Weaving deftly through cross-cultural influences, Rafter blends the shyest elements of folk and the rowdiest of rock with an abrasive, almost ornery impatience and a whisper of self-indulgence. There is, it should be mentioned, a political tenet running through the grandness: The glittering scraps of substance and rock-solid expression, most notably on the ominous synth-patterned "Gentle Men" and the soldierly, gritty strut and creeping brass section of "Unassailable" harness their romantic politik about men ruining the world with considerable candor.
Not alone in this characterization, these two songs are tiny and initially unmemorable, with lyrics that thrive within their tumbleweed structures and attention-deficit rhythms. Breaks don't occur so much between tracks as during them, making for a piecemeal song cycle united by organic, metallic percussion, fiery explosions of static guitar-led noise, gorgeously out-of-place male-female vocals, and the odd moment of folk (briefly anthemic "Peace"), punk ("Hope"), and tropicalia ("Merchandise").
The aptly named "Kantanker" is smacked on the end of the harmonious, deeply moving elegy "Boy". The contrast poses with tongue in cheek, hoping to cause discomfort: The acidic "Kantanker" is a little more than a minute long; by contrast, "Boy" is stretched to a comparitively epic four minutes. It coaxes along on piano and strings-- including harp-- caressive, pulsating guitar and hollow, angelic vocals before being eventually destroyed by "Kantanker"'s bang-on-a-can drums.
The wait for "Boy" was only 18 minutes, but it felt longer. Despite some robust and generally wordless pit stops, there are too many breaks in focus-- or rather, disparate focal points that at worst distract and, at best, leave the listener wanting more time alone with them. A more uniform vision or an outside editorial hand could successfully reinterpret Rafter's clear ambition, harnessing all these preludes and giving them a lush, lingering spotlight.
