Notes - The music blog
Notes: Joe blogs...on Cass McCombs
Every Thursday, Joe Christmas offers "past and present alternatives to watered-down but blindly and stupidly popular bands in the public eye."
‘Prior to the recording of Glasvegas’ Christmas album ‘A Snowflake fell and it felt like a Kiss’, he went to New York, bought 30 grams of coke and a Christmas tree and listened to the Bunnymen song, ‘The Yo Yo Man’ on repeat for a month.’ So wrote NME of Glasvegas frontman James Allan in last week’s issue. Now correct me if I’m incorrect but as far as I know, NME aren’t psychic so James Allan must have actually told writer Emily Mackay what he did last Christmas; ’30 grams of coke bit’ included.
But why would James Allen drop it in that he takes drugs? Is it because his Daddy’s gone? Is it fuck. Is it because he thinks it’s cool? I doubt it. No, James Allen casually dropped that in so that readers would think he’s blasé about drugs, so that readers would then assume he takes a lot of drugs, so that readers would ask themselves why James Allen takes a lot of drugs and so that readers would then come to the conclusion that he must be like, totally depressed or something.
The sad truth is that it probably worked on some people. The even sadder truth is that genuinely talented songwriters will never reach an audience like Glasvegas have because they don’t treat music fans like idiots.
I’m sure I’ll bang on about loads of overlooked singer/songwriters this year, but for today I’ll just tell you about Cass McCombs.
There’s really not much need for a biography. Just go on Spotify and listen to ‘Lionkiller’ and ‘That’s That’. Oh and don’t even doubt for a second that his Grandmother did cut his umbilical cord or that he did get a job cleaning toilets in a nightclub in Baltimore. These are all true facts, penned and delivered with so much clarity, it makes you wonder where he’s been all your life.
They might sound simple but words like these lend so much more to the particular perception of life that McCombs is trying to portray than anything like, say, ‘liar liar liar liar liar pants on fire’ (that’ll be the last dig at Glasvegas I promise). The aforementioned examples are -by the way -just snippets of Cass McCombs’ lyrical candour and mastery. His voice is really something to behold too. I don’t think there’s any other artist out there at the moment, who can sing such brilliant words with so much ease and melody (apart from maybe James Dean Bradfield).
In terms of quality, McCombs is up there with the likes of Bon Iver, Conor Oberst and Fleet Foxes (in fact, they themselves were probably influenced by him) yet he still seems to peddle a very unique and different kind of vibe.
It’s hard to put into words but if you see colour in music, Cass McCombs’ albums can emit whole different spectrums of colours at any time, with each different listen; from swathes of dark blue and black to wintry whites and rays of bright, warm greens and blues. So whatever mood you’re in, his music is bound to be the perfect accompaniment.
Cass McCombs’ fourth album proper, ‘Catacombs’ was released earlier this year to rave reviews and might well be his most accessible work to date. So if I’ve left you with any kind of desire to give the guy a go, start off with ‘Dreams Come True Girl’, ‘You Saved My Life’ and ‘Lionkiller Got Married’. Then work your way through his back catalogue; 2007’s ‘Dropping the Writ’, 2005’s ‘PREfection’, 2003’s ‘A’ and 2002’s ‘Not The Way’ EP. Oh and good luck finding interviews with Cass McCombs. This guy genuinely doesn’t think he deserves your time.
He’d rather not give interviews and remain unknown than spout off some sad, boorish, clichéd, rock n roll shit about taking drugs in New York, just to add to his own self-indulgent mythologizing. Damn.
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