Words by Chris Carosi
Released: June 7, 2011
Label: Barsuk

The Wooden Birds appeared as a side project nearly 2 years ago in Austin with the excellent Magnolia. Andrew Kenny (former frontman of The American Analog Set), Matt Pond (Matt Pond PA), Leslie Sisson (collaborator with both bands), and Sean Haskins (some guy) form hypnotizing little country tumblers that have these sweet little sentimental souls. That’s a lot of adjectives (more on the way).

The Wooden Birds / Two Matchsticks
The Wooden Birds / Maneater (cover song)

The songs on Two Matchsticks seem to exist in a weird territory between young love and western barrooms. Sisson and Kenny share most of the vocals, Kenny’s characteristic gentle and slightly raspy voice paired with Sisson’s perfectly harmonizing overtop. It’s Sisson on lead guitar, and her technique recalls a classic ringing country sound, which to me always conjures distance and longing. Her guitar is usually the best part of these songs. Haskins’ percussion reminds me clearly of the name of the band, with the surfaces often comprised of wooden blocks. I can’t help but imagine a trotting horsey. It’s mostly Haskins and Pond that provide the steam engine travel these songs take, with Kenny and Sisson providing the little layers of emotion.

This album sees the band achieving a more singular sound apart from the AmAnSet comparisons, with the songs feeling far more collaborative, with Matt Pond joining in on the vocal (and possibly the songwriting) and Sisson’s guitar textures and vocals also having a much bigger role this time around; she provides lead vocal on one tune (the peppy “Baby Jeans”). And “textures” is the perfect word here, as this band, with hardly any effort it seems, blend together in really beautiful—often light—environments that latch onto your ears. Sisson’s backing vocal is really fantastic, carefully lifting little moments in the lyric to a different dimension of bird-like freedom. Pond’s backing vocal is deeper and more authoritative than Kenny’s, so those songs have this surprisingly dark depth. This record is short, sweet, and catchy as fuck. This enables dozens of listens, with each one revealing new subtleties in the musicianship and tiny rewarding moments. The band has a lot of discipline in never rising too far out of their hushed soundscape, so I recommend the old giant-headphones-lying-in-bed approach, and then allow yourself to pick apart each member of the ensemble.

These songs require little attention to the lyric, and I find the words cruise by your ears without any thought. The appreciation of the melody is what’s important. Seriously, I could probably guess that it’s mature relationship stuff and it wouldn’t make any difference, and I mean that in the nicest way. The mood of the band is what directs this record’s appreciation. That being said, if you allow the lyric to catch hold of you, you find that there is just as many tasteful, subtle moments there as well. Everything’s toned-down in favor of the greater mix of everyone working together. The rhythms stretch out the relatively short running time of the songs, and somehow the music is played fast but sounds slow, and you end up getting lost. Hypnotizing shit. The title track has a meaner attitude (any emotion apart from “hazy” is only subtly turned in that direction), with Kenny’s bass trying to pull down Pond’s acoustic guitar in the chorus. Sisson’s little guitar phrase is brief and provides that tiny solar depth that confirms the country mood, “You’re gonna burn out alone”. The song drags you (gently but sternly) through its landscape, and then you hit repeat because you forgot what happened, but you want to experience it again.

“Company Time” is so fantastic, but would never tell you. The foundation of bass and percussion is so firm, the collaborative vocal is soft (the song is suburban depression) and it breaks into a guitar solo that breathes a sting on you, with no chorus to speak of. The song ends with Kenny and Sisson singing together, “Ever since I’ve been on company time / Heaven help me, I’m on company time / They want to know where we go, company time / Ever since I’ve been on company time.” The repetition of the title doesn’t really complete a thought, it just affirms a pleasing notion of sound, no strings are left dangling, and at no point does this music seek to challenge you or make you cry/make you smile. I like to think that this music is the soundtrack to the unclear moments of a memory, which is verging on sunset, kind of visible, kind of audible, and not really that threatening. I would not call that passive, because passivity in music connotes apathy. These songs fit together and are extremely active, but in a way that wants nothing from you; nor do they assault you with intelligence or showmanship, but both of those things are present here, just by differing means than self-consciousness.

“Warm to the Blade” sparks a bit flashier as far as emotional response, which is achieved by Kenny and Pond’s vocal, delivered with a little more urgency. The words exist in the listener’s mind, if anything, as the “you” and “me” address isn’t ever terribly personal. The way the rhythm rides along seems weepy, but because the barroom atmosphere is so strong, it has that classically country atmosphere, where everybody has a sob story, and that it’s simply a part of livin’ instead of being overwrought or immature. “Be helpless, be real when you say / There’s no room for you in me / You warm to the blade”.

The best songs here are quiet killers. The two best are way at the end of the record. They sound like if your best friend was a humble murderer, er… if you were a humble murderer? No wait, if you were a cowboy but you were fond of high school murderers. No! If you were a cowboy that killed a humble murderer in high school. “Secrets” compacts the by-now-trademark wooden gallop of the percussion with Sisson’s guitar-instead-of-chorus and Kenny’s vocal that has this deceptive underbelly of menace. It’s a song that is unquestionably about separation, trouble is you get lost in the shuffle and ring of this band’s noise and go back to listen to the lyric, but then you just get carried away by the guitar again, so you just keep going back. “Be No Lie” remembers a lover, and builds out from Pond’s guitar and Haskins’ bass drum and tambourine. It grows into a solemn anthem that lies on the difficult line between quitting a memory and holding on forever. The song is brief and good, as is this record.

I repeated myself a lot on this review (I’d like to see your synonyms for “subtle”, junior). I feel like it’s difficult to come up with something substantial about this band. What this teaches me, just like AmAnSet did (continues to do): just sit back and listen. 5 out of 7 (memories of) pretty girls on summer drives. By the way, does anybody want to go to Austin with me?

You can pick up Two Matchsticks from Insound. P.S. Happy 4th of July

Filed under: Album Reviews, Not Blake, Jim, or Brendan