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Dusted Reviews
Artist: Joshua Burkett Album: Life Less Lost Label: Spirit Of Orr Review date: Jun. 28, 2004 |
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Life Lest Lost inhabits that same shadowy zone as Six Organs Of Admittance and PG Six, one in which the more brain-fried variants of ’60s folk experimentation get rolled into contemporary low-tech home recording. Its architect, New Englander Joshua Burkett, has been on records for years, but you could be forgiven for not noticing. He first showed up about a decade ago, overblowing saxophone on Vermonster’s The Holy Sound Of American Pipe (Twisted Village); if you haven’t heard the record, suffice to say that it’s a Wayne Rogers and Kate Biggar recording that makes their work with Magic Hour and the Major Stars sound pithy.
Sometime during the ’90s Burkett swapped his sax for a banjo, guitar, and pennywhistle, then commenced putting out CDs of rustic fever dream folk music on his own Feather One’s Nest label. If you, like this writer, weren’t in on that particular stage of the Western Mass., freak scene, you probably missed them, but Spirit Of Orr has given us all a second crack at Life Less Lost.
The album, originally recorded in 1997 and 1998 on a borrowed 4-track machine, most differs from the work of Burkett’s aforementioned brethren in a couple ways, but they’re differences of degree, not kind. He’s less concerned with instrumental competence, more preoccupied with getting a striking sound. And if that means simply whacking the hell out of a couple banjo strings, panning them across the speakers, and cloaking them in echo, so be it. In this regard, Burkett presents himself as a true heir to the anything goes ethic of the Incredible String Band.
Burkett’s songs radiate an aura of stoned wonder that might occasionally flicker, but never goes out; an air of whimsy blows through the record. Sometimes it’s hard to make out what the songs are about, thanks to the liberally applied echo that sometimes blurs Burkett’s word beyond recognition. But how many times have you enjoyed a song only to be brought low by crummy lines and clunky rhymes? The tune’s where it’s at, and Burkett’s are catchy enough to snag your sleeve and lead you down the proverbial path.
By Bill Meyer
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Gold Cosmos