Review: Clay Nightingale- (Self Titled)

Hailing from San Marcos, Texas, are unsigned artists Clay Nightingale. As far as background goes, there is really not too much more I can tell you. The groups myspace page reveals each of the band-members names, but their respective roles, or any true insight into the groups history are not to be found. What is to be found however, are two records; 2008's 'The River and Then the Restless Wind', and 2009's self titled outing.

In regards to the more recent record in question, all feelings of estrangement end after one spin of the disc. In fact, you will most likely feel as if you just spent a week together with these guys. The lyrics to be found here are among the best of the year; immediately accessible and relatable, and yet offering up a fresh sentiment that I only now realize is notably absent from most of pop culture. Though on the surface much of the subject matter seems to relate to nothing more than hanging out and drinking beers, there is hardly a feeling of contentment behind these actions. Rather, we are painted a picture of the late twenties, single male, leading a comfortable yet unfulfilling American life. This record is a testament to that quest, that yearning for fulfillment. The charm of the record, is that it does not try to recreate this yearning in epic Arcade Fire-esque sweeps of theatricality. It does so through simple retellings about afternoons with friends and small happenings in town, painted with subtle Americana brushstrokes in a way that none but Clay Nightingale have quite captured.

The record opens with "Eric McMullen", a classic example of how the wordplay here is open to endless analyzation, without the pitfalls of simply being cryptic. When they drop their own band name in the last lyric of the track (referring to hanging an actual clay nightingale on a Christmas tree for a girl), one could go on for hours trying to decipher what exactly this is signifying: is their music naught but superficial adornment? a testament to stifled and confused love? or was he really just telling a straight story? Whatever the answer is, the poetry remains wholly satisfying. The brilliant "Last Paycheck" follows; arguably an anthem for some lost generation. After anecdotes about spending time at the movies or laying out on trampolines, the singer wonders "if the key to this whole mess, is really in the engine of an old parked car". As the tinkling piano, offset rhythmically by guitar couplets, drops down into resolution, he emphatically states "Man if I don't quit my job, I think I'm gonna lose my mind/I'll grab my last paycheck, Maybe it'll be enough to fill the tank in our new ride/Drive it until sunrise". The discontentment of this record is consistently offset by similar joys however. Joy born most easily by spending time (and usually drinking) with people they love. On "How We Outdrink The Silver Pines" this is most evident; the Silver Pines being friends in another band. The marriage of these two consistent offsetting sentiments, a loathing of the everyday lonely American life verse the joy of being with people you love, often yields the obvious solution of "let's run away together" (as it does in some form or another on "Eric McMullen", "Last Paycheck", "Look Out Driver", "Move To The Woods", etc.). However, by the closer, "Losin It", it has become apparent that this will never happen. It is now when you realize what the familiar sentiment characterizing the music this whole time has been: resignation.

(Sidenote: It is also worth noting that the singers deadpan delivery makes for some great moments of comic levity here as well, which is only appropriate. On one hand you have the badminton based subplot of "1314 San Antonio St.", and on another you have the hilarious line, "Life handed us tomato juice/So we made micheladas for everyone".)

Musically, the tracks accompanying the poetry here are consistently well performed and produced. Often minimalist in scope, but never unwilling to lay a little pedal steel into the mix, very rarely is the band allowed to exercise the dynamic creativity they obviously have. We see flashes of this on the subtle bombast of the outro on "How We Outdrink The Silver Pines", and the staccato violin stabs of "Losin It". Mostly however, the Texas outfit sticks to the formula of pitting stripped down mid-tempo Americana as sepia toned backdrops to the tales playing out within them. The constant balladry does get a little tiresome, particularly on "Bring An Autoharp" ("1314 San Antonio St." is probably the closest thing to a pop song here), but for the most part the instrumentals resonate aptly.

The record closes with the singer asking, "And how are we not freakin' out? How are we not losin' it?". The fact is however that he has already provided the answer. Clay Nightingale may be coming to those hard realizations that their is no perfect romance, no end to a quest for identity, and no higher meaning to be sought in an average life. And as small and lonely and desperate as that makes us all feel, they have certainly come to terms with it more sensibly than most: with good drink, good friends, and most of all, damn good music.

Rating: 8.5/10
Best Tracks: "Last Paycheck", "How We Outdrink The Silver Pines", "Losin It"