What does it sound like?:
Venturing out to see the estimable New Jersey stylings of Nicole Atkins this week, I was drawn to the humble and self-effacing opening turn – one Caleb Elliot – whose day job is as cello player in the headliner’s employ. Standard floppy-fringed, roper-heeled, sensitive, acoustic guitar-driven troubadour fare, one might think. Nevertheless I was drawn further into his world the more the set went on and treated myself to the vinly version of his new album (you get a download code too) at the interval.
Listening to the full band version of the songs, I couldn’t be more taken with them. The electric versions are a masterpiece of introspection, a symphony of underplayment. The bass on a few tracks (do we say ‘cuts’ these days or are we still waiting for that to come around again?) is so minimalist it’s almost not there until, until…there it is, as perfectly placed as a daub of red in a Turner seascape.
For all, or perhaps because of, his gosh-darn charm it’s unlikely that he’ll be taking the alt-Americana scene by the scruff of it’s neck anytime soon, so why not do a brother a favour and help him along on his journey?
What does it all *mean*?
This record has been a long time in the making. I’m so terrifically glad Caleb had the patience and wherewithal to hang on to it until it was ready.
Goes well with…
A discussion on exactly what sort of Honda you could fit all of your other possessions and a cello into.
Might suit people who like…
Midlake. The quieter bits of Dawes or Phosphorescent.