Damien Jurado's music has progressively floundered, morally speaking,
leaning increasingly towards stark pictures of failure on the
plaintive and introspective EP Gathered In Song (Made In Mexico, 1998),
via depressed (Simple Hello) and even apocalyptic
(To Those Who Will Burn) hymns,
and the album Rehearsals For Departure (Subpop, 1999), a sorrowful
and sick look at the world that surrounds him.
In Ohio and Rehearsals For Departure
Jurado abandoned any pretension of pop for a bleak and aching style that
is reminiscent of Nick Drake and Leonard Cohen.
Half a dozen friends provide instruments ranging from mellotron to cello, but
the arrangements are mostly down to earth (although dissonant strings close
the solemn whisper of Eyes For Windows and the dreamy
Saturday floats freely in a surreal atmosphere).
Even the upbeat and catchy country-rock of Honey Baby
(one of the few songs with drums and electric guitar) and the yodeling
folk-rock of Letters and Drawings (with Al Kooper-ian organ and
jubilant rhythm guitars)
can't hide their fundamental nihilism.
Jurado's songs are touching vignettes of ordinary people, and the album feels
like a documentary of urban middle-class America.
This more ordinary version of Jurado is actually far more adventurous than
his pop version.
The album was followed by
a compilation of (literally) Postcards and Audio Letters
(Made In Mexico, 2000), that contains no music and that may serve as
a psychological commentary on Jurado's music.
Ghost Of David (Subpop, 2000) finds an unlikely balance between the
first and second album: while the singer continues to bare his heart in a
defenseless mode, the arrangements pick up a little bit of steam.
This is now mainly a music of atmosphere, music of Tom Waits-grade spleen,
of Chris Isaak-infected apathy, of Smog-tinged fatalism,
and, mostly, music of moral emptiness.
Simple tunes like Medication (perhaps his emotional peak)
and Tonight I Will Retire
(an eerie suicide song)
convey extreme tenderness through the tinkling of a piano carillon.
Occasionally a ghostly female voice (Johnny Go Riding)
or a voodoo-dance pace (Great Today)
or electronic noises (December) strain the peaceful languor and
paint the music with gothic colors.
Jurado's inspiration, far from being static and monolithic, can spread its
wings over pop (Parking Lot, sung by a female singer),
psychedelia (Rearview, an organ and voice nightmare),
hard rock (Paxil, pounding and distorted)
and even old-fashioned country harmonies (Rosewood Casket).
The instrumental Ghost In The Snow sums up well the half-magic and
half-tragic mood of the album, with a ringing telephone adrift in hypnotic drones.
This album was Jurado's artistic testament, shunning the pop moments of his
previous album in favor of tormented self-analysis. And this time the
comparison with Nick Drake is much more appropriate.
I Break Chairs (Subpop, 2001) tried to turn Jurado into a
power-pop singer, but it did so with a certain lack of sincerity.
Jurado forced himself to sing catchy, upbeat songs such as
Paperwings and Big Deal, but
sounded more comfortable with low-key material such as
Inevitable and with the childish merry-go-round of Like Titanic.
Where Shall You Take Me (Secretly Canadian, 2003), on the other hand,
harks back to the spare starkness of Ghost of David and brings him
back to the ranks of paranoid chroniclers of introspection such as Smog and Cat Power.
It fails to introduce new elements and merely recycles old Jurado's cliches,
but its folk lullabies (Amateur Night, I Can't Get over You,
Abilene, Tether),
its Nick Drake-ian abysses (Bad Dreams, Omaha)
its blues depressions (Intoxicated Hands),
its country vignettes (Window, Matinee),
and even the one upbeat rocker on the album (Texas to Ohio, worthy of
Warren Zevon) make it a solid collection of inspired songwriting.
The EP Holding His Breath (Acuarella, 2003) is even more spartan,
melancholy and touching (Big Letdown).
Jurado changed format, but remained true to his muse on
On My Way To Absence (Secretly Canadian, 2005), the first album with
(barely audible) electronic sounds.
The dejected gloom-folk of Northbound and A Jealous Heart Is A Heavy Heart is centerstage,
in vain redeemed by the more varied song structures of
White Center and Icicle.
Continuing to alternate spartan and professional productions, Jurado returned
to the spartan format for the skeletal (mostly drum-less) ballads of
And Now That I Am In Your Shadow (Secretly Canadian, 2006), including
some of his best storytelling ever (Shannon Rhodes, Hoquiam,
There Goes Your Man) but little that
can be said to be musical.
The delicate sound contrasts vividly with the bleak subjects.
The quality of the songwriting was a bit better.
The same session yielded enough material for a second album.
Caught In The Trees (2008) sounded like the leftovers from those
sessions, yielding one conventional single, Gillian Was a Horse, and
a lot of pointless repetition.
There is very little to sustain interest in Saint Bartlett (2010) once
the chamber pop of Cloudy Shoes, arranged by Richard Swift, fades into
the usual gentle litanies Rachel & Cali. The emphasis of such a subdued
art always shifts on the texts, but the texts rarely substitute for good music
(except maybe in the philosophical meditation of Kalama).
The same structure was repeated on Maraqopa (2012), with Swift
crafting the sound of Reel to Reel and the indulging in the
metaphysical acid-rock of Nothing Is the News.