It’s never easy to criticize a benefit concert or album, especially when there is a truly compassionate cause. If I were to strike down the choices of artists or songs in such a noble endeavor, it would be viewed as a curmudgeonly act of brutality, lashing out against a few good folks who are trying only to help others. This puts the reviewer in an awkward position, with critical hands somewhat bound.
Wishing Tree Records’ The Amos House Collection is an indie rock-minded compilation series to benefit the Amos House (based in Providence, Rhode Island), explained in the press kit as “a non-profit charity organization dedicated to providing direct support for people in need by offering resources that help them achieve greater stability and self-reliance in their lives.”
Okay, that settles that. But how are the songs? For a benefit album to be successful, there has to be more reason for people to buy it than just overwhelming goodwill.
Volume II of Amos House, like the first installment, sets relatively mellow indie rock against tip-toed singer-songwriter folk, an aesthetic decision that results in a certain degree of sleepiness and redundancy. But for every average song here, there’s a gem that makes the compilation worth acquiring, regardless of its high moral purpose.
The affair begins with Wheat’s “Test Tones (Demo for the Flaming Lips)”, all achy vocals over frazzled gadgetry. It’s obtuse and yearning, a haunting declaration of the Boston band’s very real potential to be the next psychedelic-country-rock geniuses of the underground. But is it a tribute to the Flaming Lips or a challenge? Surely the former, but it certainly dazzles in a similarly strange way as the Lips.
Spoon is next, contributing a not-so-different remix of “Everything Hits at Once”, the first song on 2001’s Girls Can Tell, arguably the best guitar pop album of that year. The song’s lurching rhythms and moody embellishment play well off Britt Daniel’s nasal growl, even if this version doesn’t depart much from the original.
Kleenex Girl Wonder’s “Right into the Arms of the Queen” is more of Graham Smith’s typical bedroom folk-pop, a jaunty bit of guitar twang with cheap keyboard backbeat. Smith is one of the better quirky-cute lyricists around, using unconventional rhymes and collegiate vocabulary to mock his own heartbreak (Examples: “And hyperextend / Do you remember when you tempted me? / You make love so empty” and “It’s dark and hell is overfilled / With all the romantic souls you killed”). Few great songwriters take themselves less seriously than Smith, and none have more fun doing it.
Emily Sparks, a newcomer and member of the Wishing Tree roster, proves appealing with “Down in Virginia”, a simple acoustic ditty. She’s talented enough to make credible some lyrics that could easily have come off cheesy in the hands of another, like “Death doesn’t scare me much / So many of my friends are ghosts” and “If all the pain I feel is the price of life / Then I’ll pay”. Her cute, lilted voice makes Sparks a likely treat for fans of the debut albums by Annie Hayden (on Merge) or Rosie Thomas (Sub Pop).
Tortured home-taper Conor Oberst contributes “Entry Way Song”, yet another Bright Eyes outing where he sounds on the verge of tears. Still, it’s ample evidence of why so many people worship the kid. He lavishes love and respect upon his subject with alliterative compliments like “You’re the crutch of a cripple / You’re the calm of a conscience”, “With the hands of a healer and a tongue of a teacher”, “With the sense of a banker and the touch of a tailor”, and “With the love of a father through the eye of a camera”, culminating with “You reach with the soul of a sailor and the swing of a miner / You have cleared the rock away / Leaving gold there in its place”. After enduring the impact of its six-minute length, it’s a song you won’t soon forget.
Jr. Corduroy’s “Strange Empty Hollow”, sad-sack and acoustic like the two before it, isn’t the most compelling contribution a newcomer could hope for. But it’s not half-bad either. Elf Power’s cover of Robert Wyatt’s “Free Will and Testament” shows where the band got its sleepy creatures-strewn imagery, though recorded with way too much bristling fuzz to be enjoyable throughout. Next is Skating Club, another unknown solo songwriting project, also from Wishing Tree. His “Stockholm” is sweetly confident, though not so distinct.
Isobel Campbell of Belle & Sebastian gives “Pretty Things” from her side project, the Gentle Waves. As expected, it’s whispered and fragile, with soft swells of horn and keyboards making things, well, even prettier. James William Hindle contributes “Aporia”, a pleasant enough acoustic song that doesn’t really stick. The reliable Ida offers a flighty take on the traditional “Jubilee”, done as old-fashioned country-folk homage.
Those are all pretty good, yes, but a standout moment comes with Aden’s country-fried cover of “Red Door”, an Aislers Set gem that was originally done with much wintry noise. Jeff Gramm and Kevin Barker strip it down completely, emerging with a twangy light-weight ballad that wouldn’t sound out of place on the multi-platinum O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack. This version highlights the coolly abstract yet heartfelt lyrics all too obscured in original, like spelling out the words “red bicycle” letter by letter.
Drew O’Doherty next sounds not unlike Red House Painters’ Mark Kozelek, with deep vocal richness and chamber-folk instrumentation. The Aislers Set contribute an original (though an Aden cover would’ve been a nice touch) called “Sara’s Song” that thumps quietly along with atmospheric bells, piano, and backing harmonies, like Phil Spector gone shyly sluggish. The Clairvoyants’ mediocre “Don’t You Know” is just over two minutes of half-awake folk, a product of Kozelek’s Badman Recordings (as with James William Hindle and Misc).
Elliott Smith then shows all these indie-folk newbies how it’s done, gracefully including an early demo version of his mighty “Bottle Up & Explode”. It’s spookier and sparser than the original, but still more gorgeous than so many of the songs on this volume.
Amos House creeps to a finish with a few more lethargic tracks. Azure Ray’s “Rise” is remixed by basement hip-hoppers Dalek, who blend the song’s wispy female vocals with first ethereal and then almost junkyard ambience. Son, Ambulance (a friend of Bright Eyes) is next with “Two Girls”, which indulges in an array of carnival-esque subliminals a la early Magnetic Fields. Misc closes the disc with a dreamy contribution that’s almost too subtle for its own good.
This installment of Amos House would have been better served by more diverse and upbeat selections. Also, with the peculiar plaid sleeve design, you can’t even tell what bands are on it when the album is sealed, which can only hurt the cause here. Still, there are great tracks from familiar talent like Elliott Smith, Spoon, Wheat, Aden, Ida, and Bright Eyes, as well as impressive starts from some newcomers. Oh, and did I mention it’s for a good cause?