When I was younger, I always displayed a penchant for botany. So much, in fact, that I had the entire plant world broken up into three botanical classifications. There were the "things that go ouch," such as stinging nettles and briar, "things that make itch," like poison oak and poison ivy, and "things that smell bad," like the cat pee-smelling ailanthus, and the vomit-smelling, fruit-bearing female ginkgo tree.
Granted, I was working within a very limited geographical scale. The world outside the Northeastern United States undoubtedly contains many, many more prickly, poisonous, and smelly plants than I've encountered. For me, a puke tree will forever be a female ginkgo, but I get the distinct feeling that God's green earth is home to many, many more plants that smell like vomit.
When I first saw Smog's new 'Neath the Puke Tree EP, I immediately assumed that the EP's title alluded to the ginkgo. But then I looked on the back of the jewel case, and noticed that the EP was recorded in Melbourne, Australia, a place that is no doubt home to more puke-scented flora than even New York City. But that's not the only level on which I'm failing to connect to this record. For the first time in a while, I'm starting to get the feeling that Bill Callahan's instincts aren't working to his advantage-- a scary and depressing thought, considering the amazingly consistent body of work he's produced in the past decade.
'Neath the Puke Tree has a decidedly more country feel to it than Callahan's past work. And no, I don't mean "alt-country," with its twanging Telecasters and torn denim jackets. There's a serious, old-school country influence at work here, especially on the EP's opener, "I Was a Stranger". Utilizing a simple but effective motif of strummed acoustic guitar, relatively straightforward drumming, and flourishes of slide guitar, the track effectively paints a dusty picture of a sun-drenched desert that would be very much at home in modern-day western music.
Breaking slightly away from this formula, the record's second track is its standout. Barren and desolate, "Your Sweet Entrance" is classic Smog, full of vague romantic longing as expressed through Bill Callahan's claustrophobic vocals. It also contains one of the most masterfully executed weirdo chord changes I've heard in ages.
Unfortunately, at about this point, Callahan seems to have forgotten the first rule of recording sparse, guitar-driven ballads: tune the fucking thing! "A Jar of Sand" could be a great track for all I know, but I just can't get past the fact that his guitar is so painfully out of tune. I'm not sure what would be worse: if the guitar were out of tune due to general laziness, or due to a shoddy attempt at adding an "experimental" feel to the track. Either way, it's not any fun, and makes what would otherwise be a perfectly listenable couple of tracks (this and the fourth track, "Orion Obscured by Stars", are both plagued by this problem) unbearable. Yet, even with these few thoroughly frustrating tracks, 'Neath the Puke Tree manages to yank itself out of the abyss in time for its closer, the swampy "Coacheecayoo".
After having this EP on repeat play for a few hours, I'm feeling three conflicting emotions. First, I'm frustrated that Bill Callahan didn't bother tuning the damn guitar (we've established that, right?). Secondly, I'm grateful that this isn't a full-length, because even though it's at times really likable, none of the tracks have the same punch as the better of Smog's album tracks. Finally, I'm hoping that my two major gripes with this EP won't carry over to the next full-length. I mean, shit, maybe it's just really hard to find a tuning fork in Melbourne.
