Notice An explanation mark centred inside a circle. Next An icon of an arrow pointing to the right. Hamburger Menu Icon An icon used to represent a collapsed menu. Search Icon A magnifying glass icon that is used to represent the function of searching. Magnifying Glass An icon of a magnifying glass. Comments An icon of a speech bubble, denoting user comments. Close Icon An icon used to represent where to interact to collapse or dismiss a component Comment An icon of a speech bubble. ![]() Breaking An icon of an exclamation mark on a circular background. ![]() Pause Icon A two-lined pause icon for stopping interactions. Is Not Public An icon of a human eye and eyelashes with a diagonal line through it. Is Public An icon of a human eye and eyelashes. Telephone An icon of a traditional telephone receiver. Profile An icon that resembles human head and shoulders. Linked In An icon of the Linked In "in" mark. Facebook An icon of the Facebook "f" mark. ![]() Caret An icon of a block arrow pointing to the right. Cancel An icon of a circle with a diagonal line across. And god knows we've got enough to be outraged about these days.Calendar An icon of a desk calendar. Storytelling needs a narrator, preferably a reliable, sympathetic one that's easy on the ears, but it also needs a strong voice capable of venting horror, frustration, sadness, anger, outrage. This is both to the album's advantage and detriment. Despite some Pinetop Seven-recalling gothic textures ("The Birds on the Bridge", written by bassist Chris Mason, is a sinister paean to paranoia) and jam-banding noodles ("The Sun Never Shines"), Deep Dark Woods- particularly Boldt- keep emotions tightly wrapped, opaque. Strike any chords? Singer and primary songwriter Ryan Boldt's steady tone is mournful but not maudlin, as he recounts disasters in "The Gallows", "Two Time Loser", and "Farewell", the album's counter-intuitively titled lead track about marriage and murder. "All the Money I Had Is Gone" is the album's standout, a gentle highway-strip-tracing pedal steel and banjo number in which a self-described "wayward son" calls out "All the greedy hands/ That live around this land" and also admits his part in his penurious position. (The album's only public-domain standard, "When First Into This Country", pretty much nails all of those in one whack.) Winter Hours abounds with ballads about small mistakes swollen large, petty misunderstandings never mended, poverty, heartbreak, death, and a whole lot of wandering in the wilderness. But while Fleet Foxes have taken their influences and crafted them into pretty, abstract musical excursions and ahistorical hymns to nature, Deep Dark Woods work the material, storytelling aspects of the tradition. Venn diagram the record collections of Deep Dark Woods and Pitchfork's 2008 album list topper Fleet Foxes and you'd round up a sizeable stack of Neil Young, Gram Parsons, and the Band LPs. And harmony-heavy, traditional-sounding folk is having its moment. As Winter Hours' warm and fully fleshed string arrangements, quaint subjects and syntax, and willingness to let its bluegrass hang out (particularly on "Nancy" and "As I Roved Out") imply, the quartet isn't especially shy of the "country" part of that taxonomy or, despite coming from rock backgrounds, anxious to prove their "alt" credentials. I doubt it's an intentional act of class warfare, but with the release of their third full-length album, Winter Hours, Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, alt-country band Deep Dark Woods could hit cultural paydirt. Put it this way: When the Coen brothers wanted to gently mock earnest Depression-era social realism while also acknowledging that capitalism indeed co-opts everything in its path, including music and misery, they used "old-timey" "Man of Constant Sorrow" as shorthand. ![]() More important, country music's accoutrements signal the inclusive, populist sentiment that we're all in this mess together- even when the actions of hedge fund managers and insurance company executives say otherwise. I'll let economists and Adbusters types unpack the first two, but the last needs no explaining: Even without 20-foot high billboard titles like "All the Money I Had Is Gone" and "The Sun Never Shines", banjos, fiddles, and twangy vocals just plain old holler HARD TIMES. What do candy, lipstick, and country music have in common? When the job market's as dry as an Arizona ditch in August and flour canisters start subbing for IRA accounts, consumption historically trends towards confections, cosmetics, and calamity narratives.
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