My younger brother Chris introduced me to Crooked Fingers’ first album over twenty years ago, describing it as the “dude from Archers of Loaf (Eric Bachmann) making great songs about drunks and vagabonds and down n’ outs.”
Chris and I were deeply into our own vagabond-ulation phase at the time. Seduced by Charles Bukowski’s poetic accounts of dirtbag debauchery during our college years, we’d since expanded our literary palates with other classic scribes of the downtrodden like John Fante, Larry Brown, Richard Yates, and so when I popped in that self-titled first Crooked Fingers CD, I was blown away by Bachmann’s own version of drifters, drunkards, and sad luck folk. Dark, deep, mystifying and wholly original music. It was such an exciting find, so in tune with where my bro and I both were creatively and intellectually that we were hooked immediately. It scratched a very similar itch for me that Tom Waits had been scratching for many years.
I quickly gobbled up the other Crooked Fingers albums that were available, “Bring out the Snakes” and “Red Devil Dawn”, and discovered that each was a total change from the previous one, both thematically and musically. Playing one of those CDs was like opening a new book by a familiar author and realizing it’s a completely different genre. It was thrilling, and with every album that followed those initial three, Chris and I would await the release day like it was a holiday.
A couple years later, Eric Bachmann temporarily shelved the Crooked Fingers moniker and released “To The Races”, a solo album under his own name. Chris played it for me one night during his bachelor party weekend as we were crashed out on the dirty floor of some rented town house littered with beer cans and passed out, farting friends. We shared a single pair of headphones plugged into his iPod and soaked in an album of pure, stripped down honest melodies. Sad, longing, and beautiful, and very stylistically different from Crooked Fingers.
As each subsequent Eric Bachmann solo album released, we’d treat it with the same fanfare we did for the Crooked Fingers releases. Eagerly anticipating it and then excitedly gabbing about it.
I then began exploring Bachmann’s earlier work – the hugely influential indie rock band, Archers of Loaf. Archers had been growing in momentum and popularity while simultaneously shaping the indie rock sound to come while I was in college back in the 90s, but I was oblivious at the time. So I was playing catch up when I went to see them play at the Earl in East Atlanta during their first reunion tour back in 2011. And it sealed the deal for me. Archers, Crooked Fingers, solo Bachmann – it all ruled.
So anyway… I share this self-indulgent bloated trip down memory lane as my way of expressing that I am a two decades long fervent fan boy of every facet of Bachmann’s catalog. And thus, I didn’t listen to the new Crooked Fingers album, “Swet Deth,” the first one that Bachmann has released in 15 years, with an objective ear. I would have been pumped on whatever kind of album Bachmann delivered. But, it turns out that what he delivered is awesome.
In the requisite post-listen chat with Chris, I proclaimed that it was immediately good on a first listen, but also is positioned to be a “grower,” too. A “grower,” in our parlance, refers to an album that doesn’t necessarily capture you right out of the gate, but then after repeated listens slowly reveals itself to be phenomenal. One that will stick with you for the long haul. Growers are usually albums that are dense or complicated or even just overly mellow, but not easy. They require attention, time. It’s a rare album that is catchy enough to pull me right in and also contain those special extra layers that will only reveal themselves in later listens.
I’ve played “Swet Deth” probably six or seven times by now, and my initial assessment is spot on. It’s both an immediate banger AND a slow burn grower. That’s a rarity. Hell yeah.
(Please note that I am a 50 year old man, so when I say “banger”, I am probably misusing that word and coming across as a fossil trying to sound cool. I use it in a general sense to mean “Very good.” Forgive my attempts at talking youthful. I know that is a very suss thing to do and I will try to be less mid.)
A few of the tracks that immediately jumped out – the bangers? – were “Cold Waves”, “From All Ways”, and “Haunted.” These are the catchiest to my tastes, and showcase Bachman’s skill for crafting tunes that are easily accessible without sacrificing depth or complexity. “Spray Tan Speed Queen (In a German Car)” and “(I’m your) Bodhisattva” are the most obvious “growers”, but they’re gaining ground so quickly that maybe they’re actually bangers. Sorry for saying banger again.
The remaining songs on the album are the ones that are going to pop up at some point in my future listens, attach themselves to my brain, keep playing on repeat in my mind until I sit down and properly listen enough to make the itch go away. That’s usually how the growers work for me.
If you’re not already a Crooked Fingers fan, and I haven’t converted you with this highly informative review, one cool aspect to Crooked Fingers albums is that they’re Eric Bachmann’s collaboration projects, rich with contributions from other musical talents/pals and presumably fans. In this one, Bachmann sings with the National’s Matt Berninger, Sharon Van Etten, Superchunk’s Mac McCaughan, his wife/musical partner Liz Durrett, and some of his other frequent collaborators.
I’ve used the word “deep” a couple times already because, well, I’m not very good at writing about music and have a limited supply of descriptors, but also because “Swet Deth” songs are, in fact, deep. In a couple ways. There’s a lyrical depth throughout the album that reflects a solemn solitude, but paired with a more wisened, mature appreciation for love. A very stoic take on the reality of death and the beauty of life that springs forth all around it. And there’s a musical depth to the songs, how each is composed, subtly, of stacked layers of instrumentation. But subtle is key. It’s not like he stepped into a studio and screamed, “Shit yeah! So many instruments! Let’s use them all!” (although I do like when that happens). Rather, every extra texture, pattern, sound feels completely necessary, as if Bachman knew exactly how each song was supposed to be before it even was. Or if not, he knew exactly which tools in his kit to implement until he got there. It’s an “auteur” record through and through. Worthy of many listens, and the closer you pay attention to the songs, the more reward you receive.
Ok I’ve got to wrap this one up. I spent about 20% of this “album review” talking about the album, and the rest of it talking about how I like stuff. That’s a shitty review, but shitty reviews are what I do, I think.
So lemme just conclude by saying that it’s great to be a fanboy of Eric Bachmann. His catalog of music is rich, diverse, consistently good, and expansive (over three decades). And it’s a great feeling to pop on the latest album and be just as stoked as I was when my brother first introduced me to his music so many years ago. Check it out!
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