Lambchop “Punching The Clown”

Kurt Wagner’s very individual vision takes another sharp turn.

Kurt Wagner, for he is the constant in Lambchop’s story, delivers the band’s 16^th album and like most of those that have come before, it’s hard to know what to expect from this most singular of Nashville’s creative forces. Having come to international prominence with the release of Nixon in 2000 and Is a Woman in 2002, the band have disappeared beneath the waterline somewhat in recent years, although there has still been a steady line of releases, leading up to Punching the Clown.

For the album he is accompanied by just guitar, banjo and piano and then two choirs – one from London and one from Eau Claire in Wisconsin. Choirs on a country/soul album you say? Apparently this is inspired by the song form “lining out”, which originated in British churches in the 19^th century when the majority of attendees could not read. In this form the lead singer calls out a single line and the choir respond with either a repetition or a melody. It’s quite unlike anything else I have heard, strange and bewitching, alien and yet engrossing. Across a whole album, the effect is to bind the songs together in a singular coherent sound.

And that’s not there all to surprise you. Several songs have the explicit lyrics warning… in the middle of opener Just West of Nicolett, a distorted voice shouts out “Lambchop, no shit!”. In White People, Kurt observes, slightly off kilter: “Hey you / With that curly bush on your head / Gonna fuck in your driveway baby / With a neutron bomb”. What it means is anyone’s guess, but the effect of the starkness of the backing and the lushness of the backing choir is astounding.

Elsewhere, single The New World Wave grows from a simple banjo riff into a tale of a family saga, apparently set in the Great Depression. To Do find Kurt listing the things he feels he needs to do before he dies, from the artistic “I’d like to paint a picture / And have it come out looking like you”, to the banal “I’d like to water the plants”, and summarising “There’s no time to lose / And if all our best intentions / Wind up … To Dos”. Closer No Chicago is just as idiosyncratic as the rest – pretty much a list of city names with the same lush backing, Kurt’s voices occasionally croaking above the choir.

There’s not enough in this world, and particularly in this genre, that is just totally out there and different. You could never accuse Lambchop of failing to push boundaries though. The 48 minutes of this album are completely unlike anything you will have heard … it’s frequently weird, often beautiful, and frequently rather wonderful. Who knows what they’ll come up with next?