Reuniting with producer J.D. FOSTER for his eighth album, RICHARD BUCKNER (who’s recently relocated to Brooklyn) rocks out while nonetheless retaining his trademark musical and lyrical darkness. His words are evocative yet enigmatic; he describes situations so specifically, at such a fine level of detail, that paradoxically their definable meaning cannot be pinned down—and yet, the mood is communicated perfectly through his world-weary singing.
Working with a band of Foster, DOUG GILLARD (GUIDED BY VOICES, COBRA VERDE), KEVIN MARCH (GBV, DAMBUILDERS), and STEVEN GOULDING (MEKONS, WACO BROTHERS, GRAHAM PARKER), Buckner retains some of his country sound but with a sometimes shimmering, often more muscular indie-rock impetus. It’s as though he doesn’t know where he’s going but he’s hell-bent on getting there. On quieter songs keyed around acoustic guitar or piano, there’s a sense of light piercing the darkness, but even as we see the scene more clearly, we quickly realize that we’re looking at rubble, the aftermath of some ambiguous devastation.
In the end the listener is left with questions, not answers, but somehow a satisfying feeling of having almost grasped or at least glimpsed the unknowable.
