McCarthy Trenching

Calamity Drenching

(Team Love)

Record Review by Adam McKibbin

McCarthy Trenching sounds like the sort of blue-collar company you call in to do some sort of dirty work on your home and property.  Instead, it’s the sobriquet of Omaha-based singer/songwriter Dan McCarthy – one of those “best-kept secret” sorts who’s been touring and playing with all sorts of your favorite members of the Omaha extended family, including Cursive, Tilly and the Will, and Bright Eyes.  Based on the press around Calamity Drenching, McCarthy Trenching seems to be part-band name and part-alias, kind of like the relationship Polly Jean Harvey has with the name PJ Harvey.

These are songs steeped in the American traditions of folk and blues; even McCarthy acknowledges that he isn’t going to be winning American Idol any time soon, but there’s a weathered, unforced plaintiveness to his vocals that suit the songs just fine.  His lyrics stick more than the vocals – and he’s a true DIYer, recording at home on a trusty 8-track, which again is perfectly suited for the material.  After writing about a few good times on his last album, he’s found some rainy days on Calamity Drenching, starting with a letter to a depressed friend (“To an Aesthete Dying Young”) that includes a vintage sort of Midwestern line that makes me feel like I’m back in Wisconsin:  “The East Coast does not seem to suit you, my friend.  Those professors will only pollute your brain.”  Threadbare songs like these are where McCarthy makes the most impact, and he spends most of his time in that style.  In less than two minutes, he dispenses a sweet, memorable melody and some words of wisdom on “The Most Attractive Disguise.”  “Some folks are better off single because they’re always falling in love,” he sings.  “Not me,” he then adds, almost as an aside.  “I’ve given it up.”   

After the first half of the album – a mostly mellow and contemplative affair – McCarthy seems keen to shake it up a little.  He announces a shift with 80 seconds of accordion that sounds like a sound check at a beer hall.  Then he shifts into Dylan-goes-electric mode on “Scoop Shovel Blues,” which proves a poor fit for McCarthy’s offhand delivery.  The blues stick around, but he next channels them into “Buckets of Rain” mode, proving to be more effective.  Some mournful country effects are heard on “Detritus,” which sounds like a man reflecting on the drinking years he’s left behind (McCarthy has vocally distanced that sentiment from straight autobiography).  Another plaintive track, “Song for the Four Horsemen,” closes the record out, sounding an echo of Leonard Cohen’s affecting delivery – although McCarthy never sounds he’s trying to be someone else (except perhaps on “Scoop Shovel Blues”). 

Singer-songwriter fanatics will now have to keep tabs on another Nebraskan.  Here’s hoping that if McCarthy Trenching makes the big time, his transportation team comes up with something to do justice to that name.