Aficionados of beards, pot, and acoustic guitars are doubtless already familiar with Gary Higgins. Self-releasing his debut Red Hash in 1973, the singer-songwriter's nascent cult stardom was brought to an abrupt end thanks to a marijuana possession conviction that put him away for two (!!!) years. Higgins dropped off the map entirely until 2005, when Six Organs of Admittance covered one of his songs for School of the Flower. A reissue of Red Hash was soon to follow, and behold! Gary Higgins, born anew.
The album begins promisingly enough with the mournful acoustic ballad “Demons.” The clavichord solo during the bridge lends the song a medieval ambiance that clashes starkly with ambivalent imagery of thoroughly modern decadence in the lyrics: “I remember that summer's night/ You came back to the house/ You picked flowers along the way/ And drank all the sparkling red wine/ And snorted your coke line-by-line/ And laughed till the morning sunrise/ You laughed till you cried.” As a study of contrasts, the song is brilliant, evoking that paradox of the human condition in which beauty and repulsion, joy and sorrow so often coexist. It's a powerful, well-executed piece of observational songwriting that lulls the listener into believing that the album ahead will be full of such penetrating, nakedly personal insights.
But if Higgins sets the bar high for himself with “Demons,” he seems to spend the rest of the album ducking under it. “Squirrel” takes a more minimalist, psychedelic approach that superficially recalls David Sylvian's Manofon in delivery and, to a lesser extent, orchestration. The song holds together only insofar as you are able to take the lyrics seriously: a tale of a squirrel hit while crossing the road. It may be either a symbol for humankind thrown to the mercy of forces beyond their comprehension or a commentary on how society blames its victims for their own misfortunes, but the metaphor feels tortured, and when paired with the gravity of the musical accompaniment, the result is unintentionally comical. The downward momentum continues with “Ten Speed,” which drags on for seven laborious minutes without any significant twists or turns to liven it up.
To Higgins' credit, the songwriter seems to have kept pretty well abreast of contemporary musical movements, and while Seconds is often evocative of a bygone era, modern production techniques on songs like the aforementioned “Squirrel” plant the record squarely in the new millennium. Higgins even tries to give voice to his rock ’n’ roll proclivities, although the results on these tracks are middling at best. “When I Was Young” begins with a slow-rollicking electric riff that recalls early Tom Petty, but the song fails to capitalize on its early momentum and loses its way at the chorus. “Don't Wanna Lose” sounds like a latter-day Santana + flavor-of-the-week-pop-star offering, closing the album out on a depressingly adult contemporary note.
I can honestly say it warms me to see an artist who was dealt such a raw deal get a second chance to connect with his audience. That being said, however, Seconds doesn't do a whole lot for me. The album finds Higgins sliding comfortably into his place within the New Weird America, but except for “Demons,” none of the music here comes across with much urgency. Folk devotees may have a little more patience for the proceedings here, but I find it doubtful that Seconds will come as much of a revelation to anyone.
1. Demons
2. Squirrel
3. Ten-Speed
4. Mr. Blew
5. When I Was Young
6. 3 a.m. Trilogy
7. Don't Wanna Lose
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