Review Summary: Black Prairie may have potential, but for now their mash of rustic bluegrass and folksy strings don't amount to an interesting album.
Though Black Prairie, one of The Decemberists' splinter cells, is completely different from their associated indie-heroes, one thing remains evident in both their works: they both write lyrics in a storybook fashion. Being most prominent on works like
The Hazards of Love and
Picaresque, The Decemberists turned this quality into an eccentric part of their nature rather than a gimmick. With lines like: “Meet me on my vast veranda,/my sweet, untouched Miranda./And while the seagulls are crying,/we fall but our souls are flying.” The Decemberists honed their style of hyper-literate indie rock. Instead of letting it overshadow poor musicianship, mediocre songwriting, or other flaws, they incorporated it with their songs naturally, and their songs were good enough without it. Unfortunately, Black Prairie is not so adept at their field that they can mask boring bluegrass with an ongoing theme. Their cheap portrayal a small town and a musical festival (yeah that's about it) shows that
Feast of the Hunter's Moon ignores the fact that good bands don't need gimmicks like these to succeed.
Unfortunately, these lyrics are probably the most memorable part of
Feast of the Hunter's Moon. While Black Prairie's attempts at rustic bluegrass-tinged-indie are easily enjoyable in theory, the songs don't achieve many great things when executed. Despite the fact that Black Prairie aren't generic, obnoxious, pretentious or overly simplistic, their album shows their irritatingly tepid, unassuming style. Perhaps the mildest characteristic of their sound is their excessive use of predictable structures. Folksy strings fill the void of the band's otherwise shallow depths, but these melodies aren't usually interesting. Only the band's pure bluegrass/folk sections pique the listener's interest, but the band still seem to be just a wee bit too comfortable in their languid style, focusing more so on the band's natural ebb and flow than intriguing their audience. But I digress: if the band's goal is to be relaxing, near-cinematic, and dining somewhere between bucolic blues and tranquil indie, then they've achieved their goal quite nicely. Or, perhaps they just need a kick in the pants.
This is not to say that
Feat of the Hunter's Moon is monotonous or expected. They assemble unique songs that are cohesive, realizing the art of subtlety throughout. “Tango Oscuro” features a prominent classical influence, but “Home Made Lemonade” is an almost obligatory testament to their record label, Sugar Hill. This alternation between classical, bluegrass, folk, and indie is a staple of the album's sound, each genre being complimented by the resplendent voice of violinist Annalisa Tornfelt. Her soaring croon is utilized on only four of the thirteen tracks, but still her comforting voice stands out with its classical feel and jazz syncopation. It is here where it becomes clear that Black Prairie isn't necessarily bad, nor are they void of potential greatness. It's just that their failure to grasp the full extent of songwriting makes their album a humdrum, but decent escape into the world of bluegrass. They're almost there, but, no, they don't have *** on The Decemberists.
