The title of the Tumwater, Washington trio
Unwound's seventh studio album implies a subtle, personal, internal shift. A drift from summer into autumn, an undeterrable and, at base, unsettling change of self that's akin to a calm but determined change of seasons.
Leaves Turn Inside You is the culmination of
Unwound's three-year process of reinvention, and on first listen by anyone familiar with the band's trademark slash-and-burn abrasiveness, the transition seems anything but subtle. The path that led to the band's first double album wasn't an abrupt and contrived stylistic leap, however. The members had aged a bit, taking the three years since recording 1998's
Challenge for a Civilized Society to ponder their musical identities, an introspective windfall that led them to construct their MagRecOne (Magnetic Recording Academy) studio, and to the decision to self-produce an album for the first time in their ten-year history. At the end of two long years, the band had built and rebuilt MagRecOne, and labored under their own standards of quality control until the 14 songs that would make up
Leaves Turn Inside You were finished. All the while, individual bandmembers were occupied recording bands populated by kindred spirits who identified with various studio masters' methods and manifesto, and also working on side projects such as bass player
Vern Rumsey's
Long Hind Legs. The construction of a home studio afforded
Unwound the one key resource that comes in such short supply and at great expense when recording in a professional studio: time. What's likely the central reason for the lengthy wait between albums was the freedom recording at MagRecOne provided the band; freedom to follow the entire cycle of an idea to its creative and logical end and, perhaps more importantly, freedom not to use the takes and/or ideas that didn't quite pan out the way they were intended. Conversely, however, there are the pitfalls of self-indulgence and obsession; it's just as easy to become overwhelmed by the myriad creative paths that may lead to a bloated, ridiculous album. Thankfully, the members of
Unwound are savvy sonic economists, and almost never fail to trim the unnecessary fat. Perhaps another direct result of their recording circumstances,
Unwound's members have explored their more melodic tendencies and incorporated them into their songwriting. Also, they show no apparent fear of unconventional instrumentation. The band eschew some of the more traditional rock equipment in favor of allowing harpsichord, slide guitar, and cello to sit alongside obscure bits like the Dynachord, Nordlead, and synthesizers that sound as though they were lifted from warped
Prince LPs. That the members of
Unwound are not necessarily seasoned engineers sometimes shines through, however. Even with longtime producer
Steve Fisk in the studio to lend a hand, the production values (especially
Sara Lund's usually cacophonous drumming) sometimes sound more like muffled firecrackers than raucous explosions.