Despite the rock and alt-pop trappings of their 2016 debut, Masterpiece, Big Thief displayed a clear proclivity for stripped-down, acoustic-driven cuts, including “Lorraine” and “Paul.” With their next three albums, and particularly 2019’s U.F.O.F. and Two Hands, Big Thief honed their sound, offering a distinct brand of Americana while reveling in lush atmospheres and compelling sonic interplays.
Big Thief’s fifth release, Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe in You, which showcases 20 cuts and clocks in at a lengthy 81 minutes, spotlights singer and primary tunesmith Adrianne Lenker’s exemplary songcraft and the band’s impressive knack for innovation. Throughout the sequence, Lenker nails unshakable hooks; lyrically, she navigates descriptive leaps, impressionistic portraits, and nonlinear narratives. The band segues from minimal accompaniments to progressive articulations, displaying musical prowess while never eclipsing Lenker’s delivery (all four members of Big Thief, it’s worth noting, are graduates of Berklee College of Music).
On opener “Change,” Lenker’s breathy voice and languid melody are bolstered by Buck Meek’s strummy guitar and James Krivchenia’s ebullient, brushy drums. Lenker eloquently addresses the theme of impermanence while urging her listeners to embrace existential paradoxes (“Would you walk forever in the light / to never learn the secret of the quiet night?”). “Time Escaping” features Lenker’s plaintive vocal and proliferative verses draped over a jazzy/free-ambient soundscape. In this way, Dragon’s first two tracks represent the aesthetic range of the project: convention contemporized by experimentation, restraint counterpoised by hyper-dexterity.
“When I say celestial I mean extraterrestrial / I mean accepting the alien you’ve rejected in your own heart,” Lenker sings on the quirky earworm “Spud Infinity,” adopting a drawly tone while delighting in smart-slacker verse and homespun wisdom. Noah Lenker’s jaw harp is a colorful addition, while Matt Davidson’s fiddle infuses the piece with a country or bluegrass vibe. “Wake Me Up to Drive” is an Americana anthem (that Waxahatchee and/or Shovels & Rope should consider covering) that interweaves percussive accents, resonant guitars, and Lenker’s intriguingly panned vocals. Lenker’s sober delivery and the band’s Dionysian sonics are masterfully juxtaposed.
“Certainty” shows Krivchenia leaning toward spry accents rather than metronomic rhythms, Meek’s and Lenker’s voices sensually blended. “Flower of Blood” again highlights complex yet accessible sonics, including Max Oleartchik’s wandering bass and Meek’s alternately atmospheric and melodic guitar parts that would be equally at home on a goth-country or shoegaze song.
“Love Love Love” is a dark-folk gem in which Lenker expresses desire and heartache, while the band navigate audial gestalts reminiscent of Captain Beefheart and/or Tom Waits. On “Blurred View,” Lenker’s voice is slightly compressed, static-y as if unspooling through a transistor radio, her melody starkly irresistible. The band meanwhile fuse glitchy rhythms and atmospheres, rendering a seductive mix that wouldn’t be out of place on a Johnny Cash recording, PJ Harvey’s early work, Emma Ruth Rundle’s Engine of Hell, an Animal Collective project, or Loretta Lynn’s Jack White-produced Van Lear Rose. “Dried Roses” is a steamy tune, replete with melodic accents and textures that could’ve been plucked (and then significantly reinterpreted) from Emmylou Harris’s Wrecking Ball or Dylan’s Time Out of Mind (both of which Daniel Lanois produced). These tracks, among others, point to Big Thief’s almost preternatural ability to construct multifaceted soundscapes, celebrating what often occurs as an unprecedentedly integrated eclecticism.
And so Dragon gloriously unfolds. Lenker emerges as one of the more gifted melodists, subtly versatile singers, and liberated lyricists of her generation. The band demonstrate their encyclopedic absorption and seminal reconfiguration of diverse genres and subgenres as well as production styles ranging from lo-fi to hi-fi, from the garage-y to the celestial. Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe in You is, to say the least, an early candidate for album of the year. More importantly, this release is a uniquely sophisticated and signature manifesto, a bold indication that Big Thief has indeed found their perfect stride.
