Posted: 03/07/07

Elvis Perkins
Ash Wednesday

Patrick Smith | contributing writer
psmith4@smcvt.edu

It’s easy to make jokes about Elvis Perkins’ name, so I will struggle to make pointless allusions to Presley and Costello, besides that one. And as the son of Norman Bates, it's fun to hope that he will be dark and twisted and spawn sequels that no one really cares about. However, I also know I am supposed to be reviewing the actual music, not stalling. Fortunately, there are things to say about his album, Ash Wednesday, and many of them are good things.

Retro is in, which serves Perkins well, as that defines the whole album. It's folk, without any attempts at being modern, and to much relief, he doesn’t take the success of a retro style for granted, as it’s not something that succeeds entirely on its own. Call it sincerity, call it honesty, inspired imitation, whatever it is, it’s at work here. It’s a true solo effort in that the success is placed entirely on the ability of Perkins’ vocals, and if he couldn’t bring the album above simple retro imitation it would be a failure. Fortunately, his vocals do the work. With the dark undertones in most of the songs, he comes across as heartfelt, and invested in the music. Dylan’s impact on him is obvious, and depending on the listener, a good thing or a disappointment. He is in love with the moans, the changes in intonation, the rises, and the falls. He stretches words out, quickly drops them in, making the lyrics fit the music. When he isn’t doing affecting his voice, Perkins can actually sing, and for most of the album, he balances the two well enough that the combination doesn’t grate.

Ash Wednesday is one of those albums that was released at the right time of the year. Some albums are summer albums, some are spring, and this is a winter album, with touches of fall. The personal tone of his lyrics and the domination of the first person bring the mood even closer to the surface. The songs have a feeling of a confessional, when the lyrics are clear. On “Emily’s Vietnam in the Sky” he asks, “Do you ever wonder where you go when you die?” It could be a line out of something much less deserving of a listen, but here it brings a better effect. Other places, he is much more interested in images and vagaries. In “Moon Woman, Pt. 2” he sings “the moon is overhead/her light shines down on me/its lovely now it hits the deck/making shadows of the trees.” The shifting between visuals that catch his interest and his searches for something more are balanced out by the consistent mood between them. Throughout, Perkins ensures the album stays somewhere between a little down and melancholy, occasionally verging on just plain depressing. It’s impressive that this almost total refusal to vary doesn’t make the album an exercise in boredom. It does mean, however, that if you don’t buy into it fully from the beginning, none of the later tracks are going to do anything.

The only variation in the album comes early, with “May Day.” It’s a sing-along, more electric than the rest. It has bounce where the rest of the songs do anything to avoid that cheeriness. Before and after. the album dips back to the melancholy.

Towards the end, “Sleep Sandwich” is one of the stronger songs on the album. Lyrically, the direct parts are better than elsewhere, and images tell their own story of a relationship. Throughout, heavy bass drums let loose a fill that gives a heavy sturdiness that is absent elsewhere. Following this, he takes us out with a classic piano track for a closer. It’s an easy way to close an album, as it’s worked time and time again. As with the Ash Wednesday as a whole, Perkins seems to understand he’s following the past, and just does it as best he can, offering enough to make it worthwhile.