Will Giant Sand ever be a smidgen more definable? Will they ever sound slightly more commercial? Will they ever behave in an ambitious manner that behooves their potential greatness? It doesn’t seem likely.
Flying in the face of corporate assembly-line logic, Giant Sand records music, somehow manages to release the recordings and quietly moves on. No formal tour support in service of the latest album, no media blitz with Giant Sandman Howe Gelb talking about his first guitar. Nothing. Nothing except the casual singing and playing of a group that is a prime example of Zen being its own reward.
Who else besides Giant Sand (and the Grateful Dead) put out their own series of “bootleg” recordings? Volume One contains scraps from the studio, live cuts and even a blues jam. The funny thing is that it all sounds just fine. Howe Gelb’s offhand vocals and powderfinger guitar engages his mercurial rhythm section on a strictly intuitive level. Together, they surge with sonic blasts of muscular rock ‘n’ roll, or drift languidly into a jazzier, folkier terrain.
Too busy being “in the moment” to worry about people buying their albums, Giant Sand is just, Giant Sand.