Death Vessel reviewed
Death Vessel
Nothing Is Precious Enough For Us
(Sub Pop)
Death Vessel’s Joel Thibodeau is a) an insect, b) female, or c) a bluegrass artist. At varying points one and none are true.
Appearing: Saturday, August 30th at Schubas in Chicago.
An insect? Metaphorically sometimes, invoking molts, boring, moths . . . mostly the lyrics surround you in fly-vision: a hundred-angled prism. Biologically (anatomically we’ll just assume), “b” is false. Up and down, Thibodeau is a bro, but with a voice that’ll have you reaching for your medical journals. Neither adenoidal nor androgynous, Nothing Is Precious Enough For Us‘ narrator could Milli Vanilli the fuck out of the next Mirah record (who’s, incidentally, another bug-lover). The last option is a big NO. A banjo might have fooled Esquire into declaring “Obadiah In Oblivion” a bluegrass tune, but you can hear percussion. Unless you want Bill Monroe to jam his thumb in your eye . . .
Hell, maybe Thibodeau is from the Kentucky hills and it’s his buddy, producer/Figgs guitarist Pete Donnelly, rocking up the works. Nothing is essentially a folk-pop album traipsing through the Americana backroads and unfurling its bounty on a rock altar. Sometimes the stylistic shifts are disorienting, like when “Exploded View” has some 12-string feedback swallow a harmonica and mandolin duet. Sometimes there’s an influx of Beirut’s wide-eyed wonderment (“Belt Of Foam”), some ringing, Townshend-esque chord changes (“Bruno’s Torso”), and why not some twee folk (“Block My Eye,” “Fences Around Field”)?
Just don’t call it bluegrass, ‘cuz that one it ain’t.
— Steve Forstneger
Click here to download “Mandan Dink” from 2005’s Stay Close.
