Review Summary: Beauty may be in the ear of the beholder, but some albums are just easier to love than others. This is one of them.
Trying to ascertain the characteristics of a great folk record can be a daunting task; after all, there is no singular quality that can
make an album relatable, just as there is no one instrument that can carry it from start to finish. Each time we hear music that we identify with, it is a blend of features that range from the obvious, such as lyrics - to the more subtle, like how a transition or vocal inflection causes us to feel. Thus, it goes without saying that every album possesses a unique fingerprint. Not everyone will appreciate the same style of music; and that is what makes it such a wonderful, spellbinding phenomenon. Just like it allows us to find common ground with others, it also lets us express our individuality in ways that we otherwise might never have been able to.
Often in music we underestimate the power of the listener. An album is much more than a collection of notes and strings waiting to be judged by an impartial ear. We wouldn’t go to an art museum and insist that an abstract work, such as Piet Mondrian’s
Composition No. 10, has only one possible interpretation. It is completely subjective based not only on the individual’s artistic tastes, but also on the emotions and thoughts running through his/her mind upon viewing the painting. It would be foolish to deny that our own feelings, memories, and other impulses don’t play a large role in determining how good an album is
to us. That isn’t to say that some music doesn’t require more talent than other kinds of music, because as anyone can plainly see, there is a difference in technical skill between a band like Dream Theater and a band like We The Kings. But at the same time, you can’t fault someone for enjoying pop-punk more than progressive metal; that’s just how our ears and our brains work. When it comes to something as personal and emotionally significant as music, the intangible qualities typically outweigh raw performance levels.
So by now you might be wondering what this has to do with folk, and more specifically, The Milk Carton Kids’ debut
Prologue – and I assure you this has a point – but first I would like you to take a moment and study the cover of the album. What adjectives come to mind? Frigid, desolate perhaps? Or maybe unfamiliar and distant? Anything is really possible based on your perceptions, and even though the cover has a bleak, wintry look, I was immediately welcomed by its outward appearance. Something about it, even with its solemnly
gray artwork, told me it was just a shell – and that underneath that exterior, something much warmer was waiting to be embraced. As the opening strums of ‘Michigan’ graced my ears, I couldn’t help but crack a smile because I could tell that
Prologue would end up being everything I hoped it would be. Even if my love for it is simply a manifestation of my own perceptions of what I
wanted this to be, it is a great folk record for those same reasons. This is an album that possessed all the right x-factors to suit
my taste, and in turn, I helped make it what it is.
If in recent years there was only one album that lent itself to wide-open interpretation,
Prologue might be that record. With its sincere duets, lush classical guitars, and traces of Americana, The Milk Carton Kids have crafted a masterpiece of minimalist folk. The magic of this record doesn’t lie in the technical prowess of the musicians – not because they lack the skill – but because they find ways to inject the album with the subtle qualities that a classic is made of: sad-but-hopeful vocals, winding guitars reminiscent of a river bend, and melodies capable of bringing an entire genre to its knees. And all of this is written, performed, and accomplished in the most unassuming way; in a fashion reminiscent of “good old indie”, before the scene became a breeding ground for every man with an acoustic guitar and clever one-liner.
Prologue possesses the atmosphere of a rural indie-folk album and the alternative edge of an Elliott Smith record. Always instrumentally intriguing,
Prologue remains close to your heart while it sweeps over you with layers of brilliant harmonies and chords.
Attempting to pick out the best song on The Milk Carton Kids’ debut is practically impossible; every track meets the criteria discussed above and brings unique traits to the table that separate it from the other eight tracks. ‘Michigan’ is nothing short of a perfect introduction, demonstrating the crystal clarity of the slow rhythmic strumming, the more intricate picking, and the swaying-in-the-breeze vocal harmonies that surface frequently throughout
Prologue’s duration. ‘New York’ is another song that rises above an already exemplary tracklist, with a Kristian Matsson vibe that is sure to draw praise from acoustic enthusiasts. The deceivingly complex guitar work shimmers under the surface of a nearly flawless vocal performance, dancing like flames in a summer evening sky. The closing track ‘I Still Want A Little More’ offers folk at its most potent and unrefined, proving that despite its polished sound,
Prologue still has a lot of bare-bone substance.
In essence,
Prologue is one of those rare albums that is musically proficient, creatively adept, and abstract enough to evolve according to the type of listener. This could be a summer or winter album, a morning or nighttime record, or all of the above and everything in between. There are precious few moments in life when one connects with a work of art on all levels. There is no guarantee that you will see this album the same way that I do, but there is enough substance at the core of this record to suggest that
Prologue will be wide reaching. Chances are, its luster will capture your attention a few times along the way – and from there, it will be whatever you make it.
