Randy Kaplan's fifth release is his most ambitious to date, stretched out over two hourlong CDs. Unfortunately, as is the case with most double CDs, there's a horrid amount of filler, making it a chore to find the needles amidst the hay.
Kaplan's style is self-deprecating and observant, so much so on the first count as to be overly precious and so much so on the second count as to be painfully windy. His gentle folkie stance has its strong moments, as on the
John Prine-esque opener, "Rusty & New," and the pleasant soft shuffle of "One Too Many Times." But his long-windedness imperils even those tracks, dragging "One Too Many Times" on for at least one too many minutes. His details are plentiful but simply aren't gripping enough to warrant all their inclusion, drudgingly rendering such tunes as "Never Be Alone" and "None of Us Has Ever Died" as a result. (The latter nicks its riff from
Hole's "Violet," but its real sin lies in being boring.)
Kaplan lacks a gift for poetic phrases, metaphors, and allegories, but he does have interesting stories to tell. "Eve" recasts the creation story as that of a hermaphroditic Eve (as he indelicately puts it, "TS, TV, one pair"), while "High School Man" and "Buff" present inverted tales of men dubiously recapturing youth. Musically there's not much of interest -- simple guitar strums and drum loops, with only "At One Point I Knew" having a notable melodic strain.
Kaplan has few delusions of grandeur, but unfortunately puts out far too many of his faults for his audience to see on this needlessly long nexus of navel-gazery. ~ Joseph McCombs