“I lost track of family when I was 19 / My sisters were drifters and old magazines / My brother took in by an Anglican priest / In Amador County, but he’s since deceased.” So begins “I Found You”, the first song on Points of Origin, Will Stratton’s latest, and perhaps most ambitious album. One can always expect strong melodies, lush arrangements, and novelistic lyrics in Stratton’s work, but on this new one, all of the things that make an excellent Will Stratton record – not to mention an interesting concept, rife with possibilities – are at their absolute peak.
As evidenced by the quoted lyrics above, Points of Origin revels in exceptional storytelling and fascinating characters, unfolding not unlike a great short story collection. Authors like Thomas Pynchon and Richard Powers have been namechecked in the album’s press materials, not to mention filmmakers like Terrence Malick and Paul Thomas Anderson, which makes sense, given Stratton’s gift of poetic couplets as well as a widescreen view of California. This state is the setting for the record’s ten songs.
To quote the Bandcamp page: “The puny, sun-bleached lives of truckers, surfers, runaways, drunks, thieves, CIA operatives, foresters, arsonists, lawyers, and painters intertwine, fall apart, and are ultimately reduced to dust in the 10,000 year-long span of Points of Origin… set in the freeway wilds of California.”
Stratton plays a wealth of instruments on Points of Origin, but is joined by several players, including Sean Mullins, Hannah Frances, Reid Jenkins, Phil Keaggy, Joshua Marre, and Dandy McDowell, who provide a warm setting that never crowds out the intimacy of the lyrics; instead, they uplift Stratton’s words. The brass and pedal steel that intertwine on “I Found You” are perfectly matched against Stratton’s vocals (and the harmonies provided by Lena Martel).
The wildfires of California play a significant role in the stories told here, such as on “Firewatcher”, about a young man who works as a fire lookout: “Now half my friends are crazy and at the bottom of a glass,” he sings. “And here I am, suspended with the sun careening off Tiago pass.”
The dry, clear production on songs like “Temple Bar” brings to mind the 1970s apex of Warren Zevon, complete with piano rolling alongside lead guitar lines and Connor Armbruster’s violin filling in the David Lindley slot. But the hushed, dreamy country folk of “Higher and Drier” recalls vintage James Taylor or Wilco at their most tender, and the lyrics evoke a bit of a singalong vibe.
Often, more contemporary production touches give the songs a unique flavor: “Centinela” brings in subtle dashes of synthesizer and effects to add texture to stories that are oftentimes more magical realism than straight fiction, while still keeping the themes of fire alit: “Centinela / All the points of origin are moving up high / The desert’s getting bigger / Crowding out the tinder of my mind.”
“Bardo or Heaven”, another striking highlight, invokes a bluesier, but stately feel, featuring exquisite brass moving in on minor-key folk territory, bringing to mind Veedon Fleece-era Van Morrison. In the song, Central Valley wildfire smoke is chronicled in real time, and the song’s coda sees the brass intensifying in a bit of atonal cacophony, perhaps underscoring the state’s history of fiery destruction and the ever-concerning and growing impacts of climate change.
“I met your father at the Kern County Jail”, Stratton sings on “Slab City”, the record’s final song. “A string of arsons out of Bakersfield / They called me in once the judge had set bail / You can look it up but the records are sealed.” A variety of characters, brought together by circumstance, endangered by flames. Will Stratton is easily one of the finest songwriters working today, but he’s never flashy or over-the-top about it. There’s always warmth, empathy, and beautiful words to string it all together. Points of Origin is Stratton at his absolute best.