Caught in the Carousel

Wooden Wand

James & the Quiet
Ecstatic Peace

This album feels like it was recorded at regular speed and then manually slowed down to about half pace just before it was pressed to disc. It also rings true as one continuous junkie anthem. Sometimes mesmerizing, (“Blood”) but more often intentionally obvious, (“Delia”) despite it’s truly unique feel, Wooden Wand’s sound is repetitive with simple piano and gentle chords. The vocals of James Jackson Toth are reminiscent of Daniel Johnston, coming with the same cracking, youthful delicateness.

Although it’s musically inviting, the lyrics here are ultimately the most annoying part of this album. It would have been nice if the vocals blended in with the dark instrumentation, because the audible delivery does the band no favors. In fact, they could benefit from obscuring their lyrics a bit more, and letting their desolate sounds come through naturally. In tracks like “The Pushers” and “We Must Also Love The Thieves,” the arrangements are lovingly pieced together and then ruined by poor lyrics. Wooden Wand gets an automatic credibility step-up from their association with Lee Ranaldo of Sonic Youth. He’s listed as a musician (guitar, piano, vocals), producer, arranger (along with Jessica Toth), recording engineer (along with son Cody and Aaron Mullan) and mixer (along with TJ Doherty). And indeed, the album benefits from Ranaldo’s bizarre guitar emanations, so haunting on their own.

This is not experimental art-punk, it’s experimental druggie twang--there’s no precise pace or cohesive feel to the album. The sound is there but sometimes the soul isn’t, making it feel like a very practiced excursion in sadness--a little too practiced. There’s an unmistakable attempt at a feeling of loss present on the tracks. And though it’s stripped down and a little warbly and distorted, you never quite let yourself go completely. This seems to have been meant to be an album of reflective, nodding off, swaying in the hallway, coming down music.

The only problem is that no real desire or desperation emanates from this recording, making it merely a sleepy, yet well-crafted lullaby.

--Vanessa Arce