Since his 1986 debut Native Soil, Austin singer-songwriter Darden Smith has bobbed up-and-down and in-and-out with the tides of country fashion. Although a consistently earnest, penetrating tunesmith, he has released seven discs on six labels. Along the way, he’s been positioned as a vintage Texas troubadour, an easy-rolling midstream country act, an alt-country collaborator (with Boo Hewerdine), an ethereal folk-popper, and a gritty roots-rocker.
Yet with the exception the luxurious, moody pop of 1993’s Little Victories and the punchy rock swagger of 1996’s Deep Fantastic Blue, he never seemed truly comfortable in his skin until 2002’s sublime, measured Sunflower. That album adopted a country-tinged folk-rock template, gliding between brooding, melancholy ballads and languid, midtempo shuffles to couch Smith’s reedy, confidential vocals and spiritual musings.
Circo takes a similar route. This isn’t the type of music that jumps out at you; the near-hypnotic pacing and slightly buried vocals are designed to make the listener lean into the music.
As on Sunflower, Smith eschews rollercoaster highs and lows, opting to create a near-seamless song cycle. Guest vocals by fellow travelers Hewerdine, Jim Lauderdale, Kim Richey, Shawn Colvin and Suzzy Roche contribute subtle shadings, and the flexible core band (featuring Steuart Smith, Lloyd Maines, Sammy Merendino and Roscoe Beck) lays down a liquid, pulsing base.
Cool, grounded and soulful, Circo won’t light any fires; on the contrary, it’s designed to put them out.