Telegraph Canyon
The Tide and The Current
Velvet Blue / Spune; 2009
Despite the fact that there isn’t a singularly accepted definition for the term “alt-country” (much less any singer or band copping to being an alt-country act; yes, I’m looking at you Wilco/Tweedy), I’m going to put forth the assertion that we are currently in the midst of the highly misunderstood genre’s second wave. When a quartet of flannel- and beard-bedecked gentlemen with a penchant for wispy melodies and four-part harmonies are able to dominate “Best of 2008” charts crafted by both mainstream music critics and A-List music bloggers (yes, I’m referring to Fleet Foxes), you have to acknowledge that alt-country has experienced a fresh rebirth in the past few years. Certainly, some people might disdain this idea and claim that I’m vainly grasping at straws, pointing rightly at the fact that not only have bands have been tunefully combining country, rock, and folk long before Uncle Tupelo and Whiskeytown (much less The Byrds) came into the picture, but Ryan Adams and Conor Oberst have kept this tradition alive to critical acclaim for much of this decade.
I’m not going to begrudge people the privilege of doubting my claim that such any sort of resurgence is under way; instead, I’m going to happily point them in the direction of bands like Telegraph Canyon. This Fort Worth, TX-based collective has the musical chops to quickly joining the ranks of indie favorites like Deer Tick and Or, The Whale as well as larger stadium-filling acts like Son Volt, Wilco, Conor Oberst (and his Mystic Valley Band), and My Morning Jacket. On The Tide and The Current, the band has presented the world with a record overflowing with anthemic, passionate alt-country, complete with thick layers of rock and folk that bolster the songs against the naysayers.
Up front, acting as a sure-footed guide for this group is a guitar-strumming, banjo-picking guy by the name of Chris Johnson. While his vocals do affect the traditional tired-and-weary aesthetic so seemingly commonplace in contemporary indie-folk (as if anyone in this day and age actually sits down to write songs after a long day out in the sun working a multi-acre ranch), Johnson manages to flip the script when necessary and belt out a tune with a powerful, pleading urgency that’s often absent in his peers’ voices. Undergirding Johnson’s pipes is a diverse arrangement of instruments ranging from xylophone and accordion to strings, pedal steel, and a steady stream of organ swells (made even more luxurious by red-hot Leslie speakers).
As a band, Telegraph Canyon greatly appreciates the necessity of dynamics, both in terms of the music and the emotions at play. The band is able to ratchet things up and tone things down with skillful aplomb, depending on whether Johnson is engaging in some pensive navel-gazing or reaching for several of the stars that fill up the Texas night sky. There’s a familiarity and immediacy to these songs that is quite pleasant, though it would be easy to declare that the band occasionally dips too deeply into the chic sounds of trendy indie-folk (as heard on “Shake Your Fist” and “Welcome To The Night”). I would simply counter such an assertion by encouraging people to enjoy the dulcet tones of “Safe On The Outside,” “Come The Morning,” “Quiet Assurance,” and “Captain.”
Telegraph Country matches weathered, beaten-down sentiments with rather strident ones, proof that there still exists a brand of modern indie rock musician who’s able to balance being downcast and cranky with being loud and brash, without losing the emotional power behind either stance. Thus, The Tide and The Current ably serves as another quality example that second-wave alt-country (whatever such terminology really means) is standing on fresh legs and marching into the future with bold assurance.