Losing a mother is without a doubt one of the most seminal moments in a person's lifetime. No matter how old or mature the child has become, the thought of never again feeling the warmth of a loving mother's embrace or wisdom can have adverse effects on how they act and progress in the world. The day of this realisation is perhaps even worse, as the inevitable loss of the parent draws closer and closer with each passing moment, and every second spent with them feels like the most valuable. You spend those remaining days reflecting on all those little details and events that shaped the way you are with her help and guidance. For Brian 'Buckethead' Carroll, this day seemingly came too soon.
According to him, the concept of
Colma was that it would give Bucket's mother, who at the time was being hospitalized for cancer, something relaxing to listen to as she recovered. However, based on the content of the album itself, it appears as if Bucket had already expected the worst to come of this at the time of recording. Rather than merely craft a predominantly acoustic album that would be a softer and more elegant display of his prowess and ability, Bucket instead poured the deepest reaches of his heart and soul into every single track, as if it were the final thing that his mother would ever hear before her supposed passing.
Colma is not simply a less-heavy Buckethead release; it is a calculated and intricately composed message to his mother on how he feels about their relationship and the thought of losing her.
With this context in mind,
Colma goes from being an otherwise highly competent psychedelic rock album (which at the time felt like a more mature and progressive effort from Bucket as opposed to the slew of avant-garde metal records that came before), to a masterfully composed compilation of intimate memories. What each of these memories represent is left to the interpretation of the listener, but what's certain is that they all tie in to the theme of parenthood and the effects of loss in some way or another. Regardless of the absence of any lyrics, it's fairly easy to formulate your own little vision out of the melodies being presented and the track titles as to what particular moment Bucket might be referencing. Perhaps the upbeat strums of "Hills of Eternity" are fun recollections of him as a toddler playing with his mother on some green hills, maybe the frantic pace and dark tone of “Big Sur Moon” is when they first discovered the cancer and rushed to the hospital as fast as they could, or maybe the sharp, rigid, harrowing synths of the title track are how Bucket will cope without his mother in his life, like a cold, lonely child left to fend for himself in the dark. Who knows? The representations are never fully emphasised, yet the whole album still feels intensely personal, and even if you aren't aware of the context, you can at least pick up on the fact that there is something bigger afoot than the album initially presents that connects all these tracks together from a thematic standpoint, and attempt to sympathize with whatever tragedy it may be that Bucket is going through, as we are drawn in deeper and deeper with each track into his fragile consciousness.
What elevates
Colma from a sonic standpoint is the production efforts of longtime collaborator Bill Laswell. Carefully implemented, multi-layered, echoing guitars are interspersed across almost every track, creating an illusion of this being a hazy look into Bucket’s psyche, and making everything feel more lucid and ambient. The cloudy nature of the various guitars all playing over one another gives the record an almost weightless feel to it, as if playing out like a dream sequence, making for a very euphoric atmosphere to surround yourself with. Throw in the odd cello, synths and ominous samples here and there, a few contributions of DJ’s to give manufactured beats, turntable licks, and an overall slight urban edge, and what’s ultimately created is a very original fusion of psychedelia, and delicate acoustic melodies which are both catchy and heartfelt. What’s also welcome are the drumming efforts of Brian ‘Brain’ Mantia, of Primus fame, who gives the record a sort of raw feel with his very live-sounding, yet simplistic drum patterns, which never border on repetitive, and adds an extra layer of groove to the overall sound.
To some, these may seem like menial additions given that it is a Buckethead album and that the guitar work is typically meant to be the centre of attention, but that really isn’t the case this time around. In keeping with the album’s sombre tone, Bucket sacrifices his egregiously complicated compositional skills and technical ability for slower, more subtle chords. Granted, there is the odd occurrence where Bucket will put his god-given fingers to more complex use, such as on the aforementioned “Big Sur Moon” and “Machete”, the latter being one of the few tracks to utilise electric guitar and subsequently supplying a number of jazzy solos; but for the most part, things are kept fairly minimalist for the sake of developing serene environments. The pinnacle of this comes in the form of “Watching the Boats with My Dad”, a track consisting almost exclusively of single acoustic strums over several seconds at a time for five minutes, often resulting in long periods of intense silence with nothing but the microphone static being Buckethead’s backing band, making for, ironically, one of the loneliest-sounding pieces he has ever recorded. For a number of people, the simplicity of the guitar performances may seem off-putting, as Bucket is essentially stripping away his most recognisable trait; yet this would likely detract from the intimacy of the production if Bucket’s playing skills were brought to the forefront, as well as his typically zany personality which supplied the cartoonish charm of the earlier albums, making this an effective compromise at the end of the day.
Colma may not sound perfect to the average listener who simply regards it as the next stage in binging Buckethead’s extensive works. However, by putting things into perspective, and understanding the circumstances which justified the album’s creation, as well as the impact which this probably had on the poor guy in the process of its development, then you can’t help but be wrapped up in all the heartfelt nature of the songwriting. It may be a bit overly sappy at times, and some tracks could do with being a tad shorter, but as a whole,
Colma is a success for the listeners who will realise that the psychotic guitarist has a bit more heart in him than once thought. But for Buckethead himself, he can be rest assured that his mother got to hear how he really felt about their bond in just the dreamiest of fashions, and is a real diamond in his rough discography.
