I came to Carissa’s Wierd from an odd angle. Before 2006, they were a name I saw in show listings or glimpsed in the margins of Seattle scene reports. Their name, with its odd spelling, always caught my eye, but never quite enough to listen to a song or give up $12 for an album. But after watching a pair of spot-on Band of Horses sets in the spring of 2006, I made the leap. At the time, Band of Horses’ lineup included a pair of Carissa’s Wierd alumni: Ben Bridwell and Mat Brooke. (Brooke would be gone by the next time I’d see the group.) Ebullient from the energy of the band I’d just seen, I made it my mission to seek out their predecessor, ordering copies of two of their albums. A week or so later, I unwrapped them, found myself drawn in, and immediately regretted that I’d missed seeing them alive and kicking. Four years later, I’m staring down at the spine of They’ll Only Miss You When You Leave, reading the title, unpacking what it means. I have the distinct feeling that, on the other side of the country, someone is ruefully laughing.
This collection serves as a prelude to Hardly Art’s autumnal re-release of the Carissa’s Wierd discography. Thankfully, it’s arranged out of chronological order, unfolding like an album rather than a more traditional retrospective. “Low Budget Slow Motion Soundtrack Song For The Leaving Scene” opens things in a hushed tone, the voices of Jenn Ghetto and Mat Brooke blending, one pained and one a whispered echo. From there, it’s on to “Die,” the contrasts starker, the emotions more bitter. You could call it “chamber pop,” and the piano and violin do soar, but there’s a savagery just below the surface.
One Carissa’s Wierd album has the title Ugly But Honest, a phrase that might well have served as the roots of a manifesto — not in how these songs are received, but in conveying emotions, no matter how messy they might be. Some of the titles here tell stories by themselves: “Brooke Daniels’ Tiny Broken Fingers,” “All Apologies And Smiles, Yours Truely, Ugly Valentine,” “Ignorant Piece Of Shit.” Elsewhere, “The Color That Your Eyes Changed With The Color Of Your Hair” ebbs and flows like a punk-rock Mojave 3, while the frayed, nervy “So You Wanna Be A Superhero” is perhaps the one song here that evokes the group’s Northwestern base and the period in which these songs were recorded.
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The groups and projects that arose from Carissa’s Wierd don’t sound much like their predecessor. The debut from Jenn Ghetto’s S, Sadstyle, could have been mistaken for Carissa’s Wierd demos, but it was recorded during the time when Carissa’s Wierd was still an active band (subsequent albums brought in programmed beats and a stark use of space). Brooke’s Grand Archives occupy a more laid-back, opulent region, alternating between anthems and subdued sketches of the outskirts of city life. Onetime drummer Sera Cahoone’s solo work has been solid alt-country; Ben Bridwell’s Band of Horses work has aimed for a more mountainous catharsis. (Although the chemistry between Bridwell and Brooke in the days before the latter left the band did suggest something of their previous unpredictable charm.) It’s cliché to say that Carissa’s Wierd defies classification, but they are indeed the kind of group for whom microscopic subgenres were created.
Unfold the booklet of the They’ll Only Miss You When You Leave reissue and a collage results. Tour photos and flyers; lyrics and set lists, handwritten and typed out; recording credits and press clippings. There’s a whole history here. If you missed out on it the first time, this collection isn’t a bad way to become acquainted with Carissa’s Wierd’s work, their music, and their lives.