Neil Michael Hagerty is a sonic artist of lofty pedigree. From Pussy Galore to Royal Trux to his solo output, his contributions to modern music have been both innovative and engaging. He has “re-imagined” Exile on Main St., given us some of the most confounding and brilliant guitar work this side of Jim O’Rourke, and incorporated forms of blues and soul into indie rock. With Howling Hex, however, the results have been mixed. 2007’s XI, for example, featured forays into incongruous regions of chamber music and experimental rock. While some described it as “masterfully various,” others preferred the oft-used term “unfocused.” And they’d both be right; Hagerty, and now Howling Hex, present their art with such abandon and openness that it’s entirely devoid of hype or pretext.
So now we have Earth Junk, an electronic, twinkling, beat-less, and, at times, absurd album that, on the surface, bears a strong resemblance to The Fiery Furnaces. In fact, whether intentional or not, it occasionally approaches full-fledged mimicry (“Faithful Sister” could easily have been on Bitter Tea). And yet, if you’re searching precisely for The Furnaces’ disemboweled melodic turns and quirky tales, you won’t find them on this album. In fact, Earth Junk is surprising in its homogeneity. There are no builds, no dramatic crescendos, no wayward gestures. Save “Coffin Up Cash” and “O Why, Sports Coat?”, each track proceeds percussion-less, with the twitter of electronic organs and synthesizers, and, as always, Hagerty’s guitar work, which here stretches between blues and melodic strains. The tracks that succeed find vocalists Hagerty and Eleanor Whitmore singing with a soul that runs contrary to the music. The album's opener, “Big Chief, Big Wheel,” as well as “No Good Reason” and “The Arrows” are particularly convincing, as they extract an inherent groove from their sparse surroundings.
Despite its brevity (at 33 minutes), Earth Junk can be an exhausting listen because its tracks explore such a narrow sonic range. Yet the passion and deliberation invested in the vocal and, most notably, guitar performances make each track — on its own, at the very least — intriguing. Lacking the hooks and whimsy of pop music, this instead is soul-blues played through an electronic filter. While not zany by any stretch, it succeeds in twisting standard-fare garage rock into a new configuration. And this leaves the listener to contort any descriptor of the album in a similar manner: that Earth Junk’s parts are greater than their sum.
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