Ben Gibbard and Jay Farrar. Errr... strike that, reverse it. Anyone else think they're starting to resemble each other?This blog post is going to be about confessions. First, I confess I've been totally ignoring the blog-o-sphere. Second, I confess that I've thought, despite a number of really good releases ("American Central Dust," "Wilco (The Album)" and perhaps most notably, "Back and Fourth"), I've been thinking 2009 is... well, kind of lackluster. It's certainly no 2007 ("Easy Tiger," "The Historical Conquests of Josh Ritter")-- where was my album of the year? When was I finally going to hear something that knocked my socks off?
It happened, folks. And here's where my third confession is: I'm not a fan of beat poetry. Oh, sure, I went through a phase when I was sixteen where I quoted Kerouac to anyone who would listen (I still remember most of the paragraph from "On the Road" that begins, "The only ones for me are the mad ones," and I've read all of his work-- poetry, fiction, journal entries, letters-- so I'm informed enough to know I'm not a fan).
Enter, "One Fast Move or I'm Gone," Ben Gibbard and Jay Farrar's Americana exploration of Kerouac's "Big Sur". The lyrics on the disk are largely pulled from "Big Sur" and adapted by Farrar and Gibbard, making them smooth and sad and haunting, just like you'd expect.
But here is a good time to pause and consider: This is Ben Gibbard (Death Cab for Cutie, Postal Service) and Jay Farrar (Uncle Tupelo, Son Volt). What COULD you expect? Is it going to be sad, dustbowl Midwest lyrics against a steel pedal guitar? Is it going to be sweet, plaintive vocals with jangly backgrounds?
Both. "One Fast Move or I'm Gone" sounds like Death Cab's head was sewn onto Son Volt's body, and it's wonderful. Though Farrar and Gibbard switch off on who takes the lead vocals, they often harmonize together, which has a strange effect. There's something of complete innocence in Gibbard's voice-- he has always, to me, sounded like someone who is always honest because he doesn't understand that there could be something to hide. Farrar's voice is the opposite-- he sounds like a man that is honest because he has to be, because he's learned better.
On songs like "California Zephyr," you can almost taste the freedom, rebellion, and spirit of the Beat movement. It's a breath of fresh air, and full of possibility. Even on darker sounding songs like "Willarmine," there's a hint of something bigger and better around the corner-- Gibbard sings softly, "Nobody ever writes the true story of love," but the song seems to think it's because there's something intangible, something out of reach about it. It sums up Kerouac's relationship not only with the women he met on the road-- but with himself. He was always just out of his own reach.
I think the title track should be in the running for song of the year. "One Fast Move or I'm Gone" is as good as an Americana song could be, and "These Roads Don't Move" is a close second. I also love Farrar's vocals on songs like "Low Life Kingdom," and "San Francisco."
I haven't taken "One Fast Move or I'm Gone" out of my CD player since I started listening to it. This is my first pick for album of the year.
My (OK, fine, NPR's) gift to you? Click here to listen to the streaming album!










