WOODEN WAND: "WHITHER THOU GOEST, CRETIN"

Brainmugged by events. I dun fell off radar.

Now, this is quietly fucking awesome - an album that picks up emotional momentuuuum as it rolls on, yet never gains any speed; the words take their time, build up a slooow, strange, inner heat: it's exactly what I'm in the mood to hear right now.



I try'n buy pretty much everything I can get my hands on by this fella. Wand / James Toth is one of my favourite singer-songwriter-ers (along with, errm, Turner Cody, Donovan Quinn and Pop Parker); 3 / 4 years ago the Kid Shirt blog bored the world stoopid by bigging Mr. Toth.

The man's never let me down. Ever.

This little album is an epic in understatement; a gentle bruising, a purpling of the soul. A cotton-wool heart. "Dying just to disappear..." Toth throws away classic lines like he plucks 'em out of the sky by the bushel load.

"I'm a mimic of the moon / I-aye-aye-aye got this sideways smile..."

It's stark in places - little more than acc. guitar and a couple vocal overdubs - but elsewhere, a small bar-band slides into focus - woozy photocopies of Wand on drums, bass, etc backing himself, I guess. "Unexploded Ordnance" is pure truckdrivin' Surrealism 'n' Western genius: put it on a car mix-tape with Cash and "Container Drivers".

"Skels" is like some weird Tennessee-born version of Jacques Brel, a slurry moonlit waltz with Toth throwing killer couplets to the wind like lyrical yarrow-stalks. Beautiful.

"Uncle Bill" is a love-letter to an old inspirational stoner uncle - some mythical everyman Willie Nelson - funny as fuck, yet oddly touching...

And that Gothy, spooked-out Eno-ish 'Desert Guitar' on "Spoilin' For a Fright": yeah!

I don't wanna write about this album any more; I wanna listen to it again.



"How late is too late, boys? / I got a little hung up..."

Reco-fucking-mended.