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Like the recent incarnation of classic lineup Guided By Voices, who’ve put out four albums in 16 months, it’s hard to keep up with this seven-piece Boston-based art/performance troupe’s bountiful oeuvre. In addition to this sprawling, 18-track double-vinyl/CD, this year they’ve also released the more stripped down LP Trapdoors, a covers album called Toys of Future Past, and a soundtrack to the classic 1920 horror flick The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. (The group’s enigmatic leader shares his name with the 1860-1942 Germany-born, England-based painter, whose Jack The Ripper fascination got him branded by Ripperologists as a suspect for the infamous 1888 Whitechapel, East London murders.)
Granted, in this age of short attention spans it’s asking a lot for one to sit through an ambitious, hour-plus long opus like this. But Soft smartly opens with three intriguing, storming tracks that reel you in like a hungry carp. The bluesy “Devil’s in the Details” is a prison chain gang-like stomper that builds into a chaotic ruckus, the flamenco-tinged “Survive Songbird” morphs into a yodel-filled Klezmer basher, and the haunted house creaky “Baba Yaga” is an Eastern European folk-inspired dirge. From there, you’re hooked. Each tune features a kitchen sink conglomeration of instruments, like Edrie’s accordion, melodica, and glockenspiel; Meff’s mandolin and lap steel; and jojo Lazar’s ukulele and flute. Not to be outdone, Rachel Jayson’s lovely viola often steals the show – whether it’s moaning on the dramatic “Soldiers Came,” squealing on the hazy “Walls,” or wailing on the tempestuous “28 Seeds.” The whole kit and kaboodle is held down by the hefty rhythms of upright bassist Mike Leggio and drummer Tee Jay.
Bearded, mustachioed, and dreadlocked guitarist/pianist Sickert – who’s typically decked out in outlandish, Screamin’ Jay Hawkins/Mardi Gras-influenced costumes and masks – tops everything off with his full-throated, frenzied yowl and fanciful, surreal lyrics. His imposing, overarching presence is felt even when he switches to a softer croon, as on the mellow, island-splashed “Radioactive Brush,” the anguished cover of Portishead’s 1995 UK #13 “Glory Box,” or the windswept, Radiohead-esque (think OK Computer’s “Subterranean Homesick Alien”) title track. While it’s said that their theatrical and visual presentation is best experienced live, Soft makes the case for their music as equally compelling home listening, too. (In keeping with the album cover art, they’re also selling a handmade 3D custom reel for your ViewMaster. I wish I’d kept the one I had as a kid!)
