This has been a long time coming. There have been numerous collaborations and asides since his first solo album 60 Watt Silver Lining back in 1996, released after 15 years with American Music Club, but the naked, stripped back Mark Eitzel in reflective mood is the rarest of beasts, seen as frequently as Haley’s Comet these days.
It could be argued that this is a back to basics approach, an album recorded simply, at Eitzel’s own pace and featuring all sorts of small musical embellishments the subtly of which will in all likelihood not be reproduced when he tours the album in the coming months but this isn’t a criticism by any means. However, as quietly delivered as Klamath is, and it is a very respectfully and modestly whispered album, I do miss the angrier Mark Eitzel. The one with passion, with spit on his lips and a series of great axes to grind.
There was more life in that incarnation than the restrained cipher present here. I’m not simply clamouring angst for angst’s sake, at it’s heart Klamath seems to be in a happier place, most of the traditional vitriol and (self)loathing long banished into the past and I know that wishing pain on someone for the sake of their art is dumb and ultimately selfish it’s just that as a result Eitzel’s pain free music sounds slight and incomplete in comparision to his own extensive back catalogue.
It may say more about me than Eitzel that the lighter touches and lack of savage threat in these songs feels like a lack of confidence or substance. Perhaps without the stuff to rail against it’s harder to say anything with great meaning? Or maybe it’s unfair to even want that. Hey, we’re not getting any younger least of all Eitzel who turned fifty this year so maybe time has smoothed the rougher edges or perhaps a change is as good as a rest in recharging for any future releases dealing with ‘issues’. He’s always been a difficult read and a contrary songwriter capable of delivering beautiful hate at times, aimed at himself as much as others. So maybe now is a time to reflect.
The sparse feel of Klamath does hark back to certain points in the musicians own songwriting history with early American Music Club and the folkier influences of Nick Drake and John Martyn. As an exercise in late night acoustic stillness it’s exemplary. Wistful tones and social mores refracted back to the listener through his succinct lyricism and part confessional, part conspiratorial singing style.
Whilst Eitzel’s emotions are kept in check throughout the album it’s far from a toothless effort it’s just that rather than appear too judgmental there’s an aspect of seeing both sides of the story. Showcasing his songwriting maturity to hopefully a wider, newer audience than might otherwise be the case. It’s something he’s deserved for years, personally I hope it doesn’t make him too happy because I’m sure there still more life in him yet.
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