Turin Brakes

Outbursts

(Cooking Vinyl)

Record Review by Angel M. Baker

The newest release from the new acoustic movement folk duo, Turin Brakes, is pretty. Does being pretty do enough? Sometimes it does. Though Outbursts has been slammed by some critics out there for being too easy on the easy listening scale, this writer finds the record smooth, soothing, and ethereal. The brilliant Olly Knights and Gale Paridjanian team are 100% behind this record, having written, performed, and produced every lick of each somber and dreamy track. No outside influences meddled with Turin Brakes’ long awaited release. And it shows. Outbursts is all heart.

The clear standout is the first single and opener, “Sea Change.” This track will be on 2010 best-song compilations at year’s end. Knights’ tempered urgency calls for one of those "everyone be quiet; I’m listening to a very important song" moments, commanding attention from the first note. Knights puts our backs against the wall and asks us to look at ourselves. Yet, there’s nothing preachy about “Sea Change”; it encourages a swelling of reverence, which is what a great folk inspiration song should do. “Sea Change” is also the cheeriest and most upbeat track on the record, probably setting the bar too high for the other 11 to reach.

But they try. “Mirrors” makes a girl weak in the knees with lyrics like “And we’ll emerge gleaming like diamonds in the gutter making their way back to the sea.” On “Rocket Song,” Knights sings with as much pain and passion as any of the hundreds of Turin Breaks’ tracks over their 10+-year career. When he wails: “Love is a rocket to the stars,” it is easy to imagine him hanging on to that rocket heading to the sky.

“Paper Heart,” though not the record’s obvious standout (it’s a little sleepy), is this writer’s favorite track. Lyrics like “You rearrange the sunsets and terrorize this town, And it’s you I blame when I crash paper planes,” set Turin Brakes apart from other acoustic folk types. The prose in “Paper Heart,” and others on this record, delves into a sweet, childlike place that expose Knights and Paridjanian like fragile shell-less animals. All art is expression but not all artists say something. Here, the pair channels the likes of Rufus Wainwright and Jeff Buckley in sentiment and sound. It has all the feel of a DIY singer-songwriter love letter that crumples and yellows over time.

Turin Brakes’ harmonic chemistry is showcased in “Apocolips,” a heady commentary on the end of the world but at 2:20 and 3:07 there are superfluous (wasted) guitar solos that fail to meet the emphatic nature of the rest of the track. Save those two moments, “Apocolips” rivals “Sea Change” as the most memorable track on the record.

Knights and Paridjanian gather then lose momentum with “Embryo,” a track that sounds more broken than refined in comparison to the crisply crafted remainder of Outbursts. Likewise, “Never Stops” doesn’t quite meet the challenge. This number feels like a motivational campfire song, especially in comparison to the stripped down and bare, “Paper Heart.”

When Paridjanian takes over the vocals on “The Letting Down,” hearts melt and magic happens. He sings, “You’re a broken halo, You’re a seven forty seven coming in too slow” with whimsy like an idealistic singer in the 20s and a near falsetto that is pure bliss. He also nails “Radio Silence,” the record’s darkest, but hardest rocking track. Paridjanian welcomes that darkness with lyrics like, “Have you ever wandered alone? For so very long that alone becomes your home? It's a beautiful place, but a matter of taste, Yeah loneliness is subtle and strong.”

The title track rounds out the record like a sweet dessert but innocuous afterthought. After the gut-wrenching “Radio Silence,” “Outbursts” doesn’t burst. The track is pleasing but ill-placed.

Nearly flawless, Outbursts is a reward to those waiting for more beauty and poetry from Turin Brakes.