Tom Brosseau: Posthumous Success

So why is this guy touring as PJ Harvey’s support and not just providing music for whatever has filled the gap left by Dawson’s Creek? It has something to do with eccentricity. His guitar playing is a subtly twisted out brand of Americana, running on some kind of kangaroo fuel which prompts chord changes at unexpected moments. The singing has an almost angelic, androgynous quality, often set low in the mix but clear and audible all the same, thanks to the precise enunciation and projection of the voice.

There are a few songs that I can get into. On the running pair of ‘New Heights’ and ‘Wishbone Medallion’ his skill as a plain spoken lyricist meshes with that eccentric twinge (and a North Dakota twang), resulting in something that is certainly unique. These songs sink their hooks quickly; they are a little less elusive and a little less cute. There is a strange distance to the production, keeping the record in a dreamy limbo. There are often a host of guitars, electric and acoustic, keeping the melody afloat, with none taking the centre stage.

Songs like ‘Drumroll’, replete with what sounds like a coy yet charming Lou Reed impression, are populated with all manner of props around the brush drumming and a low volume strum. It gives the feel of an amateur dramatics production. The loosely scattered props are only transformed by the strength of the actor, from a painted cardboard box to a distant house perhaps.

Tom Brosseau is up to the task, he has the confidence and the imagination, but the result is just not something I get a lot out of. The first appearance of ‘Favourite Colour Blue’ is like a not-so-in-your-face Ryan Adams, it’s the most stripped down cut, a sweetly nostalgic folk-country number. Next on the tracklist… is ‘Favourite Colour Blue’, which now puts on an odd (but well tailored) ambient disco outfit and comes out swaying like a Fleetwood Mac (circa Rumours) for the twenty-first century, very lush and very dreamy. It’s possibly the only occurrence when I could not feel annoyed at an artist for placing two versions of the same song next to each other in the middle of a record. He’s one of those artists who sits beyond those concerns, because he doesn’t seem desperate for attention. He seems to be really enjoying himself, even if it is a reverie I can’t relate to.

If I were sitting in a café and this was playing I would certainly be intrigued by the record’s off kilter atmosphere, but probably not enough to ask the staff what the CD was. He’s like a rural Jonathan Richman, a little more laid back, a little meeker. The songs become more infectious by the listen, he sounds like a playful spirit, the kind it would be good to meet. As the lyrics sink in the obscurity becomes less cloying and a little more interesting. “Miss Lucy” crops up a couple of times, and so does an interest in tattoos. It’s not often you hear lyrics like these from ‘Big Time’ sung in quite this way, even if they are followed by a very “Do they know it’s Christmas time” chorus (which is the most irritating point on Posthumous Success),

“I hold the ones I love at a distance, and suffer a warmth in return.

"I take my mind off everything, when I feel the burn.”

They are deceptively simple, a characteristic I highly admire in songwriters. I’ve given Posthumous Success some time now, but I can’t say it’s really grown on me. There are a few nice but lacklustre = instrumentals meandering about amongst the songs. They sound much like improvisations, short ditties influenced by the soundtrack work of people like Ry Cooder and Neil Young. If this following video charms you then you might well be enchanted by the man’s new album, but personally I’m content to let him go on his way.

Tom Brosseau: ‘Amory’.