Review Summary: Ola Podrida reflects on adolescence through soft-spoken, at times restrained, folk drenched in sepia-toned nostalgia.
David Wingo wasn’t always Ola Podrida. He began as a composer, getting his feet wet by scoring three of indie director David Gordon Green’s more critically acclaimed films – George Washington, All The Real Girls, and Undertow – as well as The Guatemalan Handshake. Coincidentally, The Guatemalan Handshake features Will Oldham (Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy) in a supporting role, and although the two share noticeable similarities in their singer-songwriter project, Wingo showcases a different element of the folk spectrum than Oldham, one that is warmer, and gleaming with distant majesty.
Folk, as a genre, has always had an inherent advantage when it comes to three things: protest, nostalgia, and romanticism. Nothing relates stronger than a man and his guitar; the grassroots simplicity of it all combined with the intimacy it creates are the perfect premise for a message, of any nature. Bob Dylan sang of peace and protest, Nick Drake sang of depression and loneliness, and Ola Podrida? Wingo leads Belly of the Lion through adolescence, using gentle acoustic strumming and sweeping soundscapes to recreate the rural south of his childhood.
If anything, Belly of the Lion is a lesson in restraint. The obviously accomplished compositional skills possessed by Wingo shine through and Belly of the Lion is as beautifully textured as it is organized. The only song that boasts any immediate stand out value is “Donkey” with its up-tempo strumming and melodic leanings paving way for one of the finest vocal performances on the album, ditching the echo-ey soft-spoken nature employed for the majority of the record and adopting a higher yelp that serves as a perfect compliment to the restless but constrained nature of the lyrics (in the belly of the lion / I am trying to breathe through his nose). However, as opposed to harming the album, it fits the tone perfectly, with each song serving as a contribution to the whole rather than a stand-alone track. As a result, Belly of the Lion feels like it has direction, somewhere it plans on taking the listener.
Where Ola Podrida really manages to excel is in the ability to allow a song to end as it began, yet to have it continue to resonate long after that final note, despite a lack of obvious climax or focal point; in other words, this is a parade that doesn’t need any fireworks to celebrate its message. “Your Father’s Basement” threatens to explode but trails away before it has the chance, and is better for it, as ‘Lets do it tonight’ is repeated until the songs close, causing reflection rather than peaked and waning spontaneity, a trait that runs through the core of the song and the album as a whole. Belly of the Lion is the sort of record that has an uncanny ability to find nostalgic sweet spots in even those so far removed from the suburban southern upbringing David Wingo experienced; adolescence is adolescence no matter where you grew up and with lines like ‘we’ll skinny dip with girls in lakes of wine / we’ll find our way by clutching to their thighs’ it’s hard not to get thrust into a world of sepia-toned nostalgia, where every road was both an opportunity and an escape.
This isn’t an album that demands to be listened to, nor is it one that will offer immediate rewards, but given a chance Belly of the Lion will display it’s qualities in full force, evoking a world of adolescence without regret (‘do they gaze into the river before they jump in / do they give a damn if they sink or swim?’), raiding your father’s basement cupboard, and watching your sisters friends from your basement room window, to the tune of gently strummed guitars and the soft patter of percussion, and in the end, like David Wingo, you may even feel that slight pinch of disappointment that you ever grew out of it.
