Every time I start to wonder what the point of the living-disc-to-disc lifestyle is, I get whapped smack-dab in the grill by a magnificent release. Like beautiful/personable women and the perfect Reuben, faith-affirming releases don’t present themselves until you’re ready for them. The Finches’ Human Like a House arrived on my doorstep like an abandoned newborn, and I’ll be buggered if I leave it out in the cold no matter how uncomfortably close to Chan Marshall the yarns of Carolyn Pennypacker Riggs come.
Subtlety is the name of the game here, as Riggs packed only a guitar for the majority of her journey. Not only that, she hasn’t exactly re-written the rulebook for chord usage. Many of the guitar figures are essentially interchangeable, to the point where you could paste the same vocal line over several of the instrumental tracks and still come out golden. The simplicity of Human Like a House, however, is part of its charm. Much like last year’s Pirate Gospel from newcomer Alela Diane, it stays the course like George Bush Sr. and keeps-it-simple-stupid like Vashti B. You won’t hear any gimmicks, faux freakiness, or overblown orchestras presiding over the songs with a heavy hand. Soon enough, you’ll realize you don’t want to.
That said, there are instances of extra colors/shades here and there. “The House Under the Hill” pays its lease with a multi-member chorus, while “O L A” peppers nicely mixed slide guitar and shuffle drumming over an already blooming bouquet of double-tracked vocals and pin-pricks of guitar. But there’s a difference between The Finches’ use of layers and that of a more pompous-masquerading-as-ambitious band. Rather than playing the annoying third wheel, interrupting conversations and awkwardly stepping between two inseparable elements, the tertiary touches know their place. They accompany the songs with grace when they’re needed and fade into the wind when they’re not, so you never feel the need to have an uncomfortable chat with them.
This allows the album’s two best tracks to cultivate their haunting moods with nary a distraction. With a string slide fluttering in the distance, “Two Ghosts” delivers one of the most memorable folk performances of recent memory, and “Human Like a House” faintly brings to mind the spare take on “Edelweiss” from The Sound of Music with its elementary strumming and gentle drops of voice. If her lyrics equated to soft, cottony balls of nothingness, it would be easier to fault her, but Riggs excels in that regard as well, coo-ing “Oh my dear, do undress/ You look so different, in those new clothes to impress/ Someone you have never met/ [but] I’m the one needing you/ I’m the one with no shoes.”
Even as I write this, trying to keep a level reviewer’s mind, I find myself getting all emotional over these songs, particularly the two mentioned above. Somehow, some way, The Finches wring out genuine feeling without raising a ruckus. It doesn’t bode well for those who have to keep up appearances in bustling offices, but sometimes a little discomfort is worth it if the musical bounty is this breathtaking.
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