Califone - Roots and Crowns
Heron King Blues was the scariest album of 2004. Not in the black metal and corpse paint kind of way, not in the William Shatner duet with Henry Rollins "is this actually real?" sort of way, and not in the Fergie solo album "what the hell happened to pop music?" sort of way. It was an album about a half-man half-bird creature that haunted the dreams of Califone's primary singer and songwriter, Tim Rutili, while he slept. It was simply a creepy album - so much so that I fell asleep with it on and when I woke up in the middle of the noisy, drone of the title track, I promised myself I would never listen to the album while tired again.
If Heron King Blues was the bad dream, then Roots and Crowns is the morning after. It might not be a sunny morning with birds chirping and waffles waiting, but at least the dream is over and the sun is up. The line that best sums up the album actually appears in the only cover on the album ("The Orchids" by Psychic TV) when Rutili sings, with a relieved tone, "and in the morning after the night I fall in love with the light." This theme of renewal is found throughout the album in Rutili's unique style of lyrics which seem to stagger the line between stream of consciousness and intimate description. This is all backed up by an almost ridiculous number of instruments (over 30, not including multiple band members playing the same instrument) that come together to form Califone's unique, droning symphony of Americana. The album ends on a melancholy note as Rutili returns to the theme of sleep. He seems weary of another night and trails off mid-sentence. "This winter bed lives and breathes, winter bed - could do so much if you would..."
I could never recommend this album enough.
Click for more info and the chance to order the limited edition, hand silk-screened vinyl version (which I just did)
