"I’m part of the scene," Richard Swift sings on the eponymous opening cut of his new album, The Atlantic Ocean, but it’s difficult to imagine exactly which scene he could be referring to. Swift operates in Harry Nilsson-mode, not just in his proclivity to craft pitch-perfect piano pop, but in his cheerily stubborn refusal to stick with any apparent formula. Last year found him exploring electronic soundscapes as Instruments of Science and Technology and blown speaker blues and dub with his Swift as Onasis project. His early career was only slightly more cohesive: Walking Without Effort tackled quiet spirituality via early ’70s Laurel Canyon pop, while The Novelist channeled his grandfather’s ghost through Tin Pan Alley radio-waves. Dressed Up for the Letdown, his proper Secretly Canadian debut, is the closest he’s come to establishing a defined “sound,” its gorgeous, sepia-toned West Coast pop lending itself to classic bummer-record status, but even that was subject to mood swings, alternating jaunty numbers with quiet, mellow ones.
And while all that variety is hardly a bad thing, The Atlantic Ocean takes major steps to integrate the disparate corners of his personality. The title track marries krautrock drive to insistent ivory pounding, while “The Original Thought” and “Song for Milton Feher” toss gleefully Prince-style synths atop Randy Newman-style toe tappers. “Already Gone” sounds sinisterly vaudevillian, while “The Ballad of Old What’s His Name” -- featuring the production talents of Mark Ronson and the backing of Ryan Adams, Sean Lennon, and Pat Sansone of Wilco -- reels and rocks like an uncovered White Album session. Closer “Lady Luck” finds Swift adopting a soulful falsetto over paper bag drums and “Everyday People” piano chords. Despite the palette of sounds, the genre-bending never feels contrived or scatterbrained. Recorded in various studios, including Chicago’s famed Wilco loft, the album has a warm, encompassing sound, like walking into some dingy record store downtown and finding a thousand disparate records, different in style yet unified by their setting -- the yellowing, curling posters on the wall, the gathered dust, the leering clerk behind the counter.
The singularity of the record is largely due to Swift’s bittersweet, slyly hilarious lyrical sensibility. "Now honey don’t look back/ Because it might just break our hearts," he sings in “Bat Coma Motown,” before crooning "If I did you wrong I apologize/ But if I had the chance I might do it twice." "My mother said I didn’t have a name/ But she would have to love me just the same," he intones in “The First Time,” before belting out "Just let it go/ Let it go/ Let it die" over Lou Reed-style boogie. He’s occasionally tender: promising "I will listen to your every word" in “A Song For Milton Feher” (written about Swift’s encounter with the relaxation guru) and cooing “Everyone knows when they’re gonna die/ Don’t you feel so scared some times?” in “R.I.P.” Other times, he’s brash, like in “The Original Thought,” where we find him drinking till he’s broke, just to "see what kind of shit we get in."
Whichever face he’s got on, his voice oozes mystery, a smokey, hazy quality, forcing you to question each line. Is Swift, who in his younger days recorded Christian praise and worship as Dicky Ochoa and lead music at Promise Keepers rallies, serious when he sings "Save your prayers/ I’m an unbeliever"? Is the East Coast snark in “The Atlantic Ocean” a pointed jab at any particular NYC hype band? Is it a quick one, directed at all of them? At himself, dressed in suit jacket and jeans? Swift deals in juxtaposition, coupling the imagined “music of the future” with traditional back-alley songcraft, layering sad lyrics on top of a tapping melody, swagger paired with quite introspection. He reveals just enough to make you wonder what he’s getting at, but remains aloof enough to keep a careful distance.
With The Atlantic Ocean and some of the big names associated, Swift’s profile stands to be considerably raised. While there’s plenty of singer-songwriter’s plying similar wares, few are doing things as bold or as exciting as Swift, as willing to jar the listener with an oddball twist. Perhaps the eccentricities of Swift’s sound will cost him a few listeners as he opens for AOR snooze-fest The Fray on their upcoming tour, but for broader-eared listeners turned on by pure pop with a left-of-center skew, there’s a wealth of material to dig into. Swift hasn’t put out a bad record yet, but The Atlantic Ocean is his most solid effort yet, his best attempt at managing the dark-lit record store in his head.
1. The Atlantic Ocean
2. The Original Thought
3. Ballad of Old What's His Name
4. R.I.P.
5. Already Gone
6. Hallelujah, Goodnight!
7. The First Time
8. Bat Coma Motown
9. The End of an Age
10. A Song For Milton Feher
11. Lady Luck
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