Richmond Fontaine – Thirteen Cities
Archive
Posted On June 1, 2007
The seventh Richmond Fontaine album arrives with news that frontman Willy Vlautin has simultaneously published a novel. Which means he has a sort of franchise documenting the world of drifters, cheap motels and bordertown malaise. That just may be the difficulty of warming up to these fourteen vignettes posing as songs on Thirteen Cities — as depressive as Vlautin gets, the ache is always familiar.
Producer J.D. Foster gives the songs a bleary backdrop; dusty harmonicas, a twinkling pedal steel guitar and plodding percussion serve as the soundtrack to Vlautin’s scrapbook of fictive snapshots. At their best, they emulate Bruce Springsteen’s spooky tales on The Ghost Of Tom Joad, but when trite, they suffer from the same motel chic favored by Hollywood boho Vincent Gallo. “Westward Ho” is essentially a list of ironic motel names, “Lost In This World” a 4 a.m. confessional from a loser out of luck, “The Disappearance Of Ray Norton” a spoken-word story missing an ending.
Recording sessions in Tucson, Arizona resulted in cameos by members of Giant Sand and Calexico. They interweave appealing touches, such as mariachi horns and moog organ, giving the album its color. Even so, the songs hang by thin threads. Except for the pleasing country crunch of “Capsized”, Thirteen Cities lacks memorable songs, instead delivering mood pieces that wallow more than reveal.
The seventh Richmond Fontaine album arrives with news that frontman Willy Vlautin has simultaneously published a novel. Which means he has a sort of franchise documenting the world of drifters, cheap motels and bordertown malaise. That just may be the difficulty of warming up to these fourteen vignettes posing as songs on Thirteen Cities — as depressive as Vlautin gets, the ache is always familiar.
Producer J.D. Foster gives the songs a bleary backdrop; dusty harmonicas, a twinkling pedal steel guitar and plodding percussion serve as the soundtrack to Vlautin’s scrapbook of fictive snapshots. At their best, they emulate Bruce Springsteen’s spooky tales on The Ghost Of Tom Joad, but when trite, they suffer from the same motel chic favored by Hollywood boho Vincent Gallo. “Westward Ho” is essentially a list of ironic motel names, “Lost In This World” a 4 a.m. confessional from a loser out of luck, “The Disappearance Of Ray Norton” a spoken-word story missing an ending.
Recording sessions in Tucson, Arizona resulted in cameos by members of Giant Sand and Calexico. They interweave appealing touches, such as mariachi horns and moog organ, giving the album its color. Even so, the songs hang by thin threads. Except for the pleasing country crunch of “Capsized”, Thirteen Cities lacks memorable songs, instead delivering mood pieces that wallow more than reveal.
