Jason Lytle: Yours Truly, The Commuter

Lets get this out the way before we continue;  yes Jason Lytle was in Grandaddy and no we aren't going to mention that throughout this entire review. It seems unfair to measure his new, debut solo effort against his older material and so we've decided against it.

Instead, we'll treat the record like any debut record from an artist should be treated and forget the wasted, unnecessary drivel about how some songs should sound like this from 2004 or sound like that from their older, rarer EP's. It's an unnecessary side-issue as well as an inaccurate comparison; especially as the artist himself is trying to move on.

Yours Truly, The Commuter is in many way's Lytle's send off to his past and birth of his new beginning. Though it seems unlikely he'll be a solo artist for long (everyone seems to be making unlikely super-groups these days and Lytle has already contributed to the Dark Night Was The Soul collaboration album with Danger Mouse) it's nice to hear an album entirely from his perspective and creative ideas.

The record seems swathed in a relaxed fuzz, acting like a comfy cushion for everything else to lay upon. Brand New Suns is a lightly acoustic number with Lytle crooning soothingly over a laid back groove; "Yeah, grab a broken branch, with a sun burnt hand, in a washed up land. Soon we should rest a while, you're like a tired child, it's been a lot of miles". It almost sounds like an accessible Deerhunter in its airy vocalism and drifting tone.

The record shifts generally between tender and slightly brusque - without much thought about immersion and though it doesn't exactly interrupt the enjoyment, it does break up the record slightly, making the first few listens slightly disconcerting. Once it gets going though, its momentum is a beautiful thing to behold. 

The hauntingly stirring Fürget It floats eerily along on dream-like vocalism, a distant haze, a piano and echoing strings and before the listener is even aware, we're transported flawlessly into successive track This Song Is The Mute Button. Working with just keys and Lytle's distinctively tranquil voice, the song paints a gentle picture of uncertain love; "A photo of you in a frame, I know I will not say your name. Alone in the shade of a tree, you waved your goodbye hand to me. And I see the pretty in things but you disappear like a dream." It's simplistic in its intentions but it's delightfully enjoyable to listen to.

Your Too Gone sits at a minuscule two minutes and forty two seconds but it's also one of the most intricately woven tracks on the record. Again it's simple and clean but it's the musicianship and rhythm that entertains most. Moving from just a simple strummed guitar, the song dips into a beautiful, twirling spiral before ending a little too abruptly. It's too short for it's own good and could've hit wondrous heights if Lytle let his natural solo talents breath a little more but nevertheless, it's still another impressive foray into relatively new territory for the man.

There's nothing truly spectacular about the record and it may not hold up to the test of time very well but Lytle doesn't and shouldn't care too much about that. This is his record and that's the way he likes it; who cares about the reaction? There's a sense that the man needed to make this record just to get a few things off of his chest that maybe he couldn't manage to achieve earlier on in his career, and whilst that may not appeal to many; it most certainly gets respect from us.