Lunging wheat-n-chaff first into a buckling confessional, David Eugene Edwards is a straw-haired Pentecostal prophet with a knack for spinning elegant, atmospheric Southern damnation. As Woven Hand, Edwards has yet to miss a beat. Though it's still framed as a "side project," with Consider the Birds, his third and strongest solo effort, Edwards achieves a passionate pitch that eternally eclipses his output with his proper band, 16 Horsepower.
Begeting a monumental sound hinted at on past efforts, these 10 tracks are denser and more layered than the ethereal path walked by last year's beautiful Blush Music, a record that more and more reminds me of a cracked and icy music box left to disintegrate back into the damp earth. On Consider the Birds, as though concocted with quicksand, new sounds escape from each composition over subsequent listens-- little last gasps from a toy piano show up here, a last-minute snare hit there. The works are pocked with these shadowed corners: the dark, oaken sounds of barn-raising banjo, upright bass, and guitar as well as cymbal crashes, cattail taps, possessed howls, and the faint flapping of lark wings. The elegant piano that shuffles beneath "Speaking Hands" is time again punctuated by crackling, splintery percussion. "Down In The Forest" rings ominously with bells of paradise.
Its title referencing the Biblical passage about God providing for our feathered friends, Consider the Birds is a compelling cycle of blistering sermons, spare near-spoken ballads, and seesaw tales of faith and earthly toil. Aesthetically, it drifts alongside the Bonnie Prince and the Bad Seed in a starless tar-black stream. But world-weary Edwards is singular is his sustained scowl: Will Oldham saw a darkness then managed to chase that tear-in-his-beer with creaky back-porch jests; Nick Cave has kept an upside-down smile in place longer, but peppers the pulpit with insinuation and romance.
Yes, Edwards' religiosity is hardcore to say the least, and his Old Testament God seems unforgiving and even violent (e.g. "The world will bow/ The knees will be broken for those who don't know how"). In the swampy gypsy bayou of "To Make A Ring" Edwards beseeches nonbelievers to realize that "judgment is not avoided by your unbelief/ Your lack of fear/ Nor by your prayers to any little idol here...The lord will not be mocked/ Not by you or me." Gathering a gale force, the track ends with a hermetic sing-a-long around a burning maypole: "We will weave our voice, we will weave our voice together and sing forever round the throne." So, if like me you don't believe in God, then why listen? Well, because unlike empty teen angst or bitchy navel gazing, Edwards has a certified message and even with the spikes and thorns and judgments his work emerges from a compelling, otherworldly mindset.
As our country turns further towards the conservative right, it makes sense to some to be suspicious of religiosity but from my atheistic vantage, Consider the Birds is pleasingly scabrous and utterly apocalyptic. Instead of peppering his work with brief/sappy/peachy references, Edwards unleashes a torrent. Accordingly, religion aside, Consider the Birds should please any and all fans of bleak testimonials and Valley-of-Darkness soundscapes. If you really do fear Godly cooties, block out Edwards lyrics (pretend he's speaking in undecipherable tongues or talking to his girlfriend) and instead take a walk along brittle pine needles with these dark melodies, virtuosic screeches, and that humid overbearingness of his stately vocalizations.
