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Some people are bad with names. Mnemonics, associations, cute little rhymes, nothing can help these unfortunate souls from staring blankly into a strange friend’s face and uttering an embarrassed, “Do I know you?” I have no idea who Ethan Durelle is, but after hearing this Waco quartet’s sophomore album, “Talks to the Dark,” Durelle is a name I won’t soon be forgetting.
The album plays out like a Film Noir classic but with a protagonist who isn’t afraid to be seen bleeding. “Downtown Man” begins as a brooding, feedback-tinged warning of the introspection to come, as vocalist Evan Lecker growls, “The way downtown is never that easy…the sun in the sky/ she murders your backside.” The boys start early by building to a sonorous climax of cymbals and flanged guitar before transitioning into “Disruption�Sharks,” a track that splits between sparse dark verses and undeniably catchy choruses. Jeff Weathers’ drum work manages to remain varied without ever resting; his driving rhythms keep the songs moving along and give a sense of restlessness and desperation that is further accented by Lecker’s howling high notes that sound like all the best parts of Sparta’s Jim Ward.
“Eat Something” is blatantly Fugazi-esque, with sing-talk verses reminiscent of Ian MacKaye’s angsty voice, along with discordant, rolling drums and characteristic stick and rim hits that will come in later in the album. The influence is so complete at times, as in the opening guitar riff on “That Was a Lamprey,” that it would smack of plagiarism if it weren’t so damn satisfying.
Just because one can tell where Durelle’s footprints lie doesn’t mean they aren’t forging new paths, however. “Two Sunrises” illustrates the first radical shift, with a simple arpeggiated guitar backing a somewhat free-form, lilting poem; it is a moment that seems the most sincere on the album and slows down the otherwise relentless tracklist for a much needed cigarette break. “Move Us On” hints at a more commercially viable sound without sounding trite, and is easily the most memorable track on the album. Here, Theo Mclemore’s galloping bass leads the listener into a heartfelt chorus where Lecker croons “fill my pockets up with gold/you’re not fooling yourself”. Combined with Chris Mann’s delayed chime-like guitar, it is a moment that recaptures the glory of U2 without succumbing the pitfalls of anything else Bono-related.
Variety is the keyword here, as “90 seconds” continues to mix it up by invoking a more tribal sound with beating toms and wordless vocal chants, though at 5 minutes long it rather overshoots its mark. Poking fun at their own structure, “Drag the Sand (Big Ending)” neither drags nor is the ending to the album, but is instead an alternating jazz/explosion featuring both horns and wall of wailing, sustained guitar. “Horns of the Altar,” a slow somber piece, illustrates Lecker’s falsetto abilities before building to a fiery climax and fizzling out into a cascade eerie echoing voices. False endings aside, “Altar” is a testament to the band’s songwriting ability, as the listener really does feel left in the darkness hinted at by the album’s name, though without the anxiety that kept it at bay for so long.
Known more for their live act then their studio output, “Talks” seeks to reverse Durelle’s reputation by boiling down the group’s various influences and styles into one of the most poignant hours of music that Texas has seen in months. There is enough variety here for any listener to feel at home, and its dark confessions and catchy hooks ensure that, regardless of the listener’s personal ineptitudes, Ethan Durelle will not be a name soon forgotten.
Websites:
www.ethandurelle.net
Myspace
