Of all the acts called indie-folk,
Timber Timbre has some of the darkest and strangest musical roots.
Creep On Creepin’ On’s title is no mistake:
Taylor Kirk and company take inspiration for the follow-up to their Polaris Prize long-listed self-titled album from séances, witchcraft, murder ballads, swampy rockabilly slow dances, and horror movies. Yet within this black-on-black palette,
Kirk finds fine shadings of meaning and mood that keep these songs from being too monotonous, self-serious or campy. “Bad Ritual” opens the album with
Kirk remembering a departed lover, though lyrics like “there is proof in boxes” and “I felt your poltergeist present” suggest she may not have left of her own accord; “Black Water” swirls imagery of Viking funerals and polluted lakes into murk that belies ages upon ages of weirdness. What makes
Creep On Creepin’ On really work, however, is
Timber Timbre's commitment to its distinctive sound. “Woman”'s blaring sax, droning organ and surf guitar undertow give a doomy shimmer to the song’s ‘50s piano ballad bones; “Too Old to Die Young” gets even more literal and theatrical with B-movie screams and sound effects entwined with sawing strings. Even more so than on
Timber Timbre,
Kirk knows how to turn this drama and mischief into something transcendent, especially on “Lonesome Hunter,” which captures just how scary it can be to fall in love.
Creep On Creepin’ On is the sound of
Timber Timbre fully coming into its own, with romance and strangeness to spare.