Brian Cullman – The Opposite of Time

I love Brian Cullman’s last album, the magnificent All Fires the Fire. First time I heard it I thought, how the hell is he going to follow that!? It was a one of a kind project full of soaring orchestral choruses and sounds as deep as the savannah, all played on conventional instruments, the music adapted to every subject and song so that it felt whole— not one note out of place nor an extra needed. It was big. It was huge, really. And the question nagged. How do you follow something like that? Punter that I am, if the album had been mine, I would not have even tried.

Brian Cullman, though, is no punter and I should have known that he, of all musicians I know, would find a way. Cullman, both man and musician, harbor a unique view of the world and, well, genius that he is, he backtracked. He simplified what was once huge, in music and subject matter— the only thing he really could have done without throwing his fans, and there are more than you might think, into a freefall.   

I have to confess that I didn’t get The Opposite of Time at first. The lack of sound, the almost quiet (comparatively), the lone wolf approach stunned me. I expected something more, uh…. well, more and immediately began worrying if the majesty was gone. The majesty behind not only “No God But God,” but “As a Man Gets Older” and “Missing You By Miles” and the one which never fails to bring my ego to its knees, “Sweet Companion,” with its minor chords so carefully placed that it reverberates in my soul. It took me a few listens, but the same Cullman is there, but a less lost Cullman— a Brian Cullman clinging to roots, clinging to music as those of us so often do or even have to do. I think Cullman, like myself, has to. It keeps us from losing ourselves.

The Opposite of Time is in a way the opposite of All Fires. Call it a kinder, more uplifting Cullman. For instance, I had no idea he could rock let alone rock out but he does so on “And She Said,” allowing Jimi Zhivago all the room he needs to slide the guitar (which he does very ably). He stops just short of Lou Reed and “Sweet Jane” on “Hands of the Rain,” the downside and mania of Reed obviously not a place of comfort, and carries the tune into a lighter realm. The riff behind “Walk the Dog Before I Sleep” is groove-laden, acoustic guitars circling each other over a light percussive rhythm section.

The light rock of “Memphis Madeline” lightens the mood but “After All the Gifts” takes him back home to the place he really lives— on the cusp of forever. Just one listen to “Beneath the Coliseum” had me wondering and “Nothing” could be Cullman’s world view, a coda to “No God But God” but from a different perspective. “God made the world out of nothing,” he sings, “and nothing’s always waiting in the wings.”   

Cullman’s soft lightly-textured voice, reminiscent of Dylan’s in places, is a perfect match for the various moods of the songs, some of which are mini-compositions or poetic musings with music. And the band is monumental in stature. He couldn’t have missed if he tried.

I don’t know what it is about Brian Cullman. He claims to be an easy read but I do not find him so. You neither write nor perform music like he has without depth of character. Without experience. Without perspective. He sweated over these songs just as he did over those on All Fires. You can hear it and, more than that, you can feel it. One day I will understand what makes him tick and write a capsule review of the man and his music. Until then, I will lay back and enjoy what he has given us.  

The Opposite of Time: Writing: A. Performance: A. Band: A+. Production: A+.  

To read more about Brian Cullman, click here.