PHOSPHORESCENT /// AW COME AW WRY /// MISRA RECORDS ///

Aw Come Aw Wry takes some getting used to. Lead singer and principle member of Phosphorescent Matthew Houck has a skewed sense of composition that inevitably leads the listener to head scratching first and head-bobbing second. I suppose that the root of the sound on Aw Come Aw Wry is alt country, but if so then this is country that's been impregnated with the seed of a hundred disparate styles making it more psychedelic than twangy. This could well be the sound of the rural South after a bottle of syrup. Album opener "Not A Heel" starts off with a lilting pedal steel knocking against Houck's cracked vocals. By the time the song winds down and Houck has declared that he's, "not a monster, but I will eat your heart" we've heard a horn section that recalls a New Orleans funeral procession and tidbits of electronic percussion. Houck's voice is an essential element to these songs. It's a barely restrained reed that seems about to tear at any second. It's got more cracks in it than a cheap tea set, but it fits perfectly, almost irreplaceably. "Joe Tex, These Taming Blue" unfolds like a Barcalounger, getting more and more comfortable as the song progresses, steadily building upon layer of pedal steel and horns. Aw Come Aw Wry is an engaging album when it wants to be and Houck's voice can be mesmerizing, but there are questionable starts and stops throughout the record. The band seems to take three stabs at getting the title song right resulting in 45 second, 49 second, and minute and twelve second versions differentiated by numbering each #3, #5 and #6. None of them really goes anywhere or lends insight into what the band is trying to do thematically. Then there's the case of "Nowhere Rd, Georgia, Feb. 21, 2005" which is a field recording of said road that lasts 19 minutes; on the scale of clever versus pretentious, mine tips towards the latter. Aw Come Aw Wry has too much going for it allow it to be dismissed for its small faults and these faults are part of its charm.

Peter Funk