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I’ve found that I always have a deeper attachment to the unconventional voices. The effort it takes to understand and appreciate the voice makes the relationship less one-sided, more involved. Tom Waits, Joanna Newsom, Ian Curtis, hell, even Bob Dylan and Neil Young; as much as I’d like to say I immediately fell for these singers, the truth is it took some time. Through patience and persistence, something clicks and uncertainty translates into unwavering allegiance. Chamber pop outfit Hello Lovers follows their 2006 EP Vanity Fair with their first full length Gone with the Wind, an album that has plenty more to offer than just the unconventional vocals of front man J.C. King. This second effort sees the group getting comfortable with each other, a maturation that is welcomed by the members who were more or less thrown together for the making of Vanity Fair. Gone with the Wind is bigger, more refined arrangements against the expansive, dynamic croons and caws of King.
The album is deeply rooted in Southern Gothic traditions where the songs range from warm, uplifting confessions of love to dark, macabre tales of loneliness and detachment. The string-centric instrumentation of Hello Lovers permits them to move freely between the light and dark. The large emotional range of violins and cellos allows them to convincingly set any tone. The songs themselves are for the most part structured similarly. A simple and sparse piano line introduces the song, providing a steady, repetitive rhythm section for the strings, which often enter a few measures later supplying melody, texture, and depth. Also, these aren’t just run of the mill string arrangements by musicians that played in their high school orchestra. Members Masha Poloskova and Mollie Fischer are classically trained, fresh out of prestigious conservatories boasting orchestrations wrought with taxing runs, time changes, and heavy syncopation that are always melodic and stunningly beautiful. This, of course, creates the central conflict of the album: The incredibly accessible orchestration of the band under the strange unconventional vocals of J.C. King.
At first listen, it seems King is a man of two voices. The first is high and abrasive with a nervous vibrato that calls to mind the likes of Devendra Banhart or Jeff Buckley, but is described by King to be more influenced by Nina Simone and Bessie Smith. The lower register is warm and forgiving with a slower vibrato that sounds similar to Antony Hegarty. When distinct, these voices are normal enough and probably wouldn’t garner much attention, but the frantic and relentless movement between them is what makes his delivery so strange. However, after hearing the instrumental interlude “Elipses,” it becomes evident that King’s voice is far more functional. As the cello solemnly slides between high and low notes, you hear the timbre of King’s voice. This revelation is the key to understanding King’s vocals in the context of the group. He is really just another instrument.
The album opener “Heads Full of Heaven” is an interesting, if atypical preamble with only finger snapping to punctuate the quiet three-part harmony. Although it is an enjoyable song, it sounds more like the Nina Simone classic “Be My Husband” and not the rest of the album. The following track “Cherry Tree” is a better representation of the Hello Lovers sound as the cellos drive in a frenzied staccato while violins wobble above and King nervously sputters out the mostly unintelligible lyrics. In fact, there aren’t many lyrics that are easily understood until the following song “Men and Dolls” where King delivers the refrain “make her believe she’s the only woman in the world” in a timid quiver. The tone shifts with “Public Garden,” the first brandishing of the Lovers’ lighter side. The piano enters with a waltz that remains constant throughout the song, supplemented by the strings that flutter and swell in all the right places. The result is a classically gorgeous love song that might convince listeners that making love in a public garden is incredibly romantic and not so, well, illegal.
The album centerpiece “Would You?” stands out in that it is the first to employ traditional instrumentation. It’s funny to think that the one song that has guitar, bass and drums “stands out,” but as the song builds to its climax, strings, horn, and organs join in, ending the song in typical Hello Lovers fashion. The next song, with its walking bass line and brushed percussion sounds like “Moondance” would’ve sounded if Van Morrison were stranded alone in a snowy mansion for thirty years, walking the haunted halls by candlelight. “Snakeskin Thunderstorm” is beautiful and uplifting, continuing the trend begun by “Public Garden” and anchors the final third of the album.
Although I’ve added King to my list of strange voices that I love, it’s my sincere hope that “the dude has a weird voice” doesn’t define Gone with the Wind. The orchestration is stunning and the lyrics (when understood) are memorable and literary. The staggering depth of the album leaves so much to be discovered through multiple listens. Having said that, Gone with the Wind is not a sing-along kind of album. It’s not a record you want to play in the car with your friends or recommend to your parents (unless you have really hip parents). It’s the kind of album that you listen to in headphones, laying on the floor of your room.
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