Joseph Arthur wants to be an enigma. I mean, really badly. He wants to be your unique, personal, do-it-yourself, enigmatic folk/pop singer/songwriter, and he'll do whatever it takes to get there. He'll cover his album art with weird, tribal drawings he made himself. He'll play more than just guitar if you want, sometimes even harmonica. He'll even experiment with different genres on a couple songs. In his liner notes, Arthur cryptically refers to himself as "benzo," and gives his supporting musicians equally puzzling aliases like "darkstar" and "lovehammer." He packs his lyrics with surrealist imagery that could pertain to traditional love or loss, but what he really wants is for you to ask: "Is that actually what he means? Could it be deeper than this?" Yet, as the album's final seconds tick to a close, the real question at hand ends up being: "Does it matter?"
And the answer? Well, no. But you knew I was going to say that. On his second full-length, Come to Where I'm From, Arthur's self-imposed pseudo-enigma status is more easily discarded than decoded. There are enough solid songwriting chops behind the facade to sustain him, and there's just as much-- if not more-- to be said for the production. T-Bone Burnett, Rick Will, and Arthur himself each take co-producer titles, and what results is a raw, endearing sound that blends each instrument perfectly while remaining crisp as a bell. It's some of the best production and mixing this side of Tchad Blake, who also happens to mix two of these songs, probably not all that coincidentally.
As already established, Joseph Arthur's at his strongest when his ambiguously mystical lyrics don't get in the way, and most of the time, they don't. In "Invisible Hands," the line "There are things we cannot know/ Invisible hands who guide the show/ From up above" doesn't hold significance as a spiritual revelation, but rather, simply as a way to meld his vocals with the subdued and effective melody. The track's rhythmic base pulses as Arthur moans and hums through the track's five minutes while guitars, harmonicas, and subtle buzzes of feedback float in and out. It's this eerie tone, and not the prose contained within, that provides him with the mysterious atmosphere he's tried so desperately to achieve.
And then there are those times when the embittered victim in Arthur spills haphazardly onto his lyric sheet. On "Creation or a Stain," Come to Where I'm From's most painful moment, he sort of, well, tries to rap about it. Actually, it isn't a rap as much as a failed Patti Smith impression. But whatever it is, Arthur manages an off-the-scale reading on the Rock Bottom lyricist detector: "I'm a walking crucifixion/ I'm a fucked-up memory." Over the course of its trying four-minute length, the track condemns all corruption, and laments the beggars and starving people of the world. And all this over the same two chords!
Better for Arthur to stick to what he knows best. His most substantial material doesn't go for the throat, the heart, or even the intellect, but the ears. "Cockroach," one of Where I'm From's standouts, is built solely on ambient street sounds, a folksy acoustic guitar progression, and a drumkit that sounds like it's made of rocks. It seems to recall memories-- possibly even actual memories-- of bygone days busking on urban street corners. The song is enhanced by the occasional delayed fuzz lead, supportive female backing vocals, and the subtle, haunting echo of Arthur's voice as he sings his heart out with every line.
So I suppose it's safe to let Joe into your home. He's pleasant enough, and moderately talented. Plus, he's got quite a few nice tunes in his repertoire. But lay down some house rules first: make sure he sticks to his more musical material, don't ask him where he gets his lyrics, and never let him make you call him "benzo." It's not very becoming of him.
