If you work or dwell in a concrete-and-steel metropolis and find yourself in sudden need of some fresh air and greenery, pop on Mouthful, the second full-length from Chicago’s Fruit Bats. Like Mark Linkous (Sparklehorse), Eric Johnson pens songs that teem with flora and fauna: shorn sheep, tumbleweeds and reeds, even “leviathans down in the abyss.” Lyrically, his affinity for zoology is rivaled only by meteorology: sandstorms, rainbows, sunshine and wind also figure heavily in his vibrant imagery.
Since the release of the Fruit Bats’ 2001 debut Echolocation, Johnson (who also played for a stint with artier outfit Califone) has been joined by multi-instrumentalist Gillian Lisee, and has opted for a more polished, folk-pop sound. Still, Johnson doesn’t shy away from the impulse to stretch out, if that’s what the track requires. “The Little Acorn” begins like Dark Side-era Pink Floyd, then rolls out the cascading keyboard lines, culminating with a celestial climax that wouldn’t be out of place on a Granddaddy platter (or ELO, for that matter). Overall, though, these ten tunes seem more concise, and better thought-out, than those on Echolocation.
Musically, the disc balances organic timbres (on the opener, “Rainbow Sign”, it sounds like the band is keeping time on an empty shoebox) with studio savvy. Johnson’s memorable melodies, and the straightforward performances on guitar, banjo, mandolin, and piano, belie the rather grand dimensions of the production by the band and Brian Deck (Modest Mouse, Red Red Meat).
In addition to the aforementioned prog-rock episodes, the closing bars of “Magic Hour” give a nod to Phil Spector’s Wall of Sound, and the multitracked vocal harmonies throughout show familiarity with the repertoire of Brian Wilson and Teenage Fanclub. At 44 minutes, Mouthful may not last as long as a weekend in the country, but it still exerts a similar influence on the psyche, soothing and invigorating at the same time.
