The Balky Mule

The Length of the Rail

(FatCat)

Record Review by Alex Pudlin

There’s something genuinely endearing about a man sitting in his bedroom howling into a sub-par recorder as his guitar clangs away. Maybe it’s because it’s the closest we can get to the artist’s initial conception of an idea. But lo-fi one-band music needs more than just the proper tone. Daniel Johnston isn’t merely beloved because of his process. He’s a cult hero because he has a point of view and despite all his oddities, Johnston’s tremendous songwriting ability is never called into question. Brit-turned-Australian Sam Jones’ Balky Mule can’t claim as much on his latest album. Jones’ music reminds me of the tall kid who is convinced to try out for the basketball team just because of his height, despite the fact that he can’t really dribble. Fortunately Jones has a few of the other fundamentals down. He can play many instruments adeptly and his songs invite you deep into the crevices of his guitar hole. But aesthetic success is only one step to a perfect album.

Somewhere stuck between Lola-era Kinks, Arto Lindsay and Devendra Banhart, Balky Mule fills its songs with all the right homemade sounds.  Splashes of basement reverb and a nice sheen of electric buzz create a genuine mood but for the most part, Jones forgets to bring the songs along for rendezvous. That’s not to say that “The Length of the Rail” isn’t without its merits. When tone and songwriting collide, the results are memorable. “Jisaboke” is a meditation on parallel times and split second differences that mixes melodic hooks with tuneless ramblings that work within the overall context of the song. The instrumentation- anchored by a dreamy distorted guitar- delicately builds, but always maintains its intimate feel. “Wireless” is punctuated by a piano line that sounds a bit like “Chopsticks,” but successfully drives the strong central melody. And “Range,” with its galloping drum beat and references to Crosby, Stills and Nash is The Balky Mule’s version of a indie-pop song.

But far too often Jones’ songs ramble for no apparent reason. From the grating “Chalk” to the coma-inducing percussive hits of “Instead,” “The Length of the Rail” is an exercise in poor pacing and an overall lack of self-editing. Perhaps the whole “guy making CD-Rs for his friends” feel of the album lends itself to songs that go nowhere, or at least earns Jones the right to do whatever the hell he wants with his songs. As an outside listening experience, however, The Length of the Rail is a frustrating example of an artist who has the right idea, but just no real sense of how to implement the rough feel into a coherent whole.