Album Review

Following up his highly acclaimed 2007 debut Ash Wednesday, it must have tempting for Elvis Perkins to veer violently in another musical direction. The first album was such an intense affair, partly inspired by the 9/11 death of his mom as well as the death of his father, actor Anthony Perkins, that the other Elvis might have felt the need to steer away from the personal if only for his own sanity.

The good news is that Elvis Perkins In Dearland, an album eponymously credited to Perkins’ touring band, finds enough new ground to feel like a fresh start without abandoning the idiosyncratic yet profound songwriting talents that made Ash Wednesday such a nice surprise. And while the debut album was by no means sparse in its use of flavoring instrumentation, this new album definitely feels like a band effort all the way, even while leaving no doubt that Perkins’ firm hand is at the tiller, guiding us on a journey that feels more universal this time around, if no less harrowing and heartfelt.

The album opener, “Shampoo,” lets the band introduce itself. Perkins goes for a hiccup-like vocal that sails above a minor-key, organ-filled groove that sounds like classic Heartbreakers. The keyboards of Wyndham-Boylan Garrett are prominent throughout, but fellow Dearland members Brigham Brough (primarily on bass) and Nick Kinsey (mostly percussion) also get plenty of chances to shine. Kinsey, in particular, stars in “Hey,” conjuring up a seductive beat that could have been the basis for a Drifters’ hit some 50 years ago.

Listen to “Shampoo”
Listen to “Hey”

All three musicians backing Perkins are multi-instrumentalists, so that allows him to toy with his acoustic-guitar based songs and keep things varied throughout. Sometimes things get a tad too varied (like the chain-gang blues misfire “I’ll Be Arriving”), and Perkins has a tendency to throw too much at a song, distracting from the solid frame of his songwriting. “Send My Fond Regards To Lonelyville” is an impressive attempt at something akin to Dylan’s “Desolation Row,” but the New Orleans jazz band that kicks in late in the song overwhelms the singer’s delicate construction.

Listen to “I’ll Be Arriving”
Listen to “Send My Fond Regards To Lonelyville”

When he strikes the right balance though, the results are undeniable. “Chains Chains Chains” is catchy and understated, just the simple beauty of the melody and Perkins’ caressing vocals carrying the day until some mournful horns comment tastefully in the breaks. And “Hours Last Stand” has a death-rattle feel similar to Daniel Lanois’ famous productions for Dylan.

Listen to “Chains Chains Chains”
Listen to “Hours Last Stand”

Don’t let the mentions of Dylan fool you into thinking that Perkins slavishly follows any artist. In fact, one of the best things you can say about him is he’s difficult to pin down. You catch a glimpse of Dylan here, a whiff of Leonard Cohen there, but at all points you’ll find a kind of timeless wisdom that belies a songwriter of such a relatively young age.

At his best, as on the album’s closing two weepers “123 Goodbye” and “How’s Forever Been Baby,” Perkins taps into the exquisite conundrum available only to the finest practitioners of the art: The ability to flawlessly describe the things that tear two people apart while still being helpless to do anything about it. “123 Goodbye” is a killer, as Perkins wistfully looks back at a lost love. Just when his poetics threaten to get a tad too highfalutin’ (rhyming “the abacus of the rain” with “the calculus of pain”), he brings things back down to earth with a poignantly simple observation: “We were happy once you and me/When we were sad.”

Listen to “123 Goodbye”
Listen to “How’s Forever Been Baby”

What Perkins has done on In Dearland is extremely noteworthy because the album stands on its own and not just as Ash Wednesday II. He has found his way forward without hitting a dead end, and his progress from here seems damn near unstoppable.

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