Max Clarke is one of those musicians who worship relics of bygone eras. His eagerness to revisit the art of periods he was born too late to experience permeates the 8-track recordings he makes as Cut Worms, an alias lifted from William Blake’s 18th-century poem “Proverbs of Hell.” But he’s more than just a throwback. His debut album, Hollow Ground, is a collection of ’60s-style pop ballads that balance vintage aesthetics with expressive songwriting.
In his other life, as an illustrator, Clarke relies on old-fashioned drawing skills. (He also designed Hollow Ground’s cover art.) The combination of ingenuity and patience that this work requires is also reflected in Cut Worms’ music. Clarke rotates between electric, acoustic, and lap steel guitars, as well as bass and keyboards, stacking instruments to create the illusion of simple songwriting. “Till Tomorrow Goes Away” sets a foggy mood, then lets a trickling guitar melody clear it away. “Like Going Down Sideways” sounds slow and rough, like a demo recorded outdoors, with Clarke’s voice cracking as he confesses the pain of an old love. He serenades listeners with jaunty acoustic guitar and a sweet croon on “Don’t Want to Say Good-bye.” But, as he switches up instruments throughout the album, Clarke maintains a warmth akin to the honeyed tones of the Everly Brothers and the Kinks.
Clarke doesn’t give his words the same attention as the music, though, too often recycling generic phrases. On “Mad About You,” he stumbles from cliché to irksome cliché: “But wouldn’t it be nice to see you/Somewhere else beside my dreams/I’m mad about you.” But he does, at least, breathe life into those lyrics with a voice like a more melodic Bob Dylan, his unexpectedly pleasant nasal coarseness apparently emanating from some remote inner idyll. He effectively masks his weakness by elongating the notes he sings or, in “Coward’s Confidence,” letting baritone sax and doo-wop backing vocals steal the spotlight.
It’s the way Clarke uses the grainy texture of 8-track tape that gives the album its amber glow. Recorded at the Los Angeles home studio of Foxygen’s Jonathan Rado and at New York’s versatile Gary’s Electric with producer Jason Finkel, Hollow Ground filters cozy bedroom-pop sketches through studio boards, drawing out the details in Clarke’s songwriting without stripping the songs of their dusty appeal. The relatively clean production on “Cash for Gold” complements the energy of Clarke’s full-lunged hollers and enthusiastic harmonica solo, instead of coming off as a meaningless ploy to make the track stand out.
What’s most impressive about Hollow Ground is the way Clarke prevents even its most unassuming songs from fading into the background. While a mellow number like “How It Can Be” isn’t groundbreaking in its approach to soft rock, Clarke brings its otherwise hazy evocation of the ’60s into focus by harmonizing with himself in the simplified style of early Beatles material, all endearing croons and power-pop charm. There are elegant touches like this on each of Hollow Ground’s 10 songs, resulting in an album whose familiar melodies don’t demand your full attention but earn it anyway.
