A.C. Newman - 'The Slow Wonder' (Matador)
4/5
By: Kevin Molloy
'The Slow Wonder' sees the 'benevolent dictator' of The New Pornographers step into the realm of the singer-songwriter. It's becoming quite an institution now, which means it's good that there are people like AC Newman to shake it all up a bit.
Whilst useful comparisons can be drawn to the likes of Ben Folds and, in particular, Brendan Benson; Newman's take upon the scene is quite unique. This is certainly pop of the classic variety: the LP boasts eleven songs in just over thirty-three minutes, all of which are catchy as hell. But add to this the peculiar quirkiness of Newman's compositions and view upon the world and you have a rather compelling solo debut.
Lyrically it's unfaultable, Newman is 'stealing your thoughts with the force of the non-sequitors', or so he claims, before calling those who don't care to listen more carefully 'amateurs'. Slightly presumptuous, and there is indeed an innate confidence in Newman's work, that could be read as arrogance. But the positive far outweighs such a criticism - the kind of melodies that Newman experiments with simply couldn't work if they weren't being sung as if they were the only possible combination of notes at that point. It could be said that they shouldn't work at all, but it's the fact that they do that makes this such a subversive pop experience.
Newman jumps at any chance for the strangely tuneful (including harmonised whistling and keyboard sounds he must have found in an untouched 70s funk studio). The songs are a drifting ebb of various melodies, subtly building up a song from the outside around the central vocal. In fact, let's not mess around: melody, melody, melody. And a little melodious melodic interlude. At his best Newman seems untouchable, and at his worst he puts birdsong to shame. And it's superbly instrumented too: it's as if 55% vodka could also taste good, or French accents didn't have to have armpit hair. From the bowed bass-line of 'Town Halo' to the trumpet of 'Cloud Prayer' the polished musicianship is in evidence, without ever losing the 'bedroom acoustics' production vibe. The guitars are jubilant, charged with the raw energy that only the simplest of chords can bring, whilst the wandering piano is reminiscent of, again, the errant virtuoso Ben Folds.
And just to reassure us that the whole thing shouldn't be taken altogether too seriously, the album's thirty-four blissful minutes draw to a close with the lurching sound of a guitar being prematurely unplugged whilst amplified. Whilst it's typical of the vibrancy and spontaneity with which Newman conducts his affairs, it's the antithesis of what he creates. Songsmithery is sometimes seen as a dying trade, but 'The Slow Wonder' is the perfect example of how intelligent songs and subversion can be the creative bedfellows of this kind of joyous, melodious pop.
Artists in this article: A.C. Newman
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