Gentle indie-folk ruminations on life’s purpose and direction.
This album of Jonathon Penn’s is, as signified from its title, an artistic and life-influenced bildungsroman, and presumably a cathartic way of dealing with change and discovery. Having walked away from a career in finance and affected by the loss of his father and the birth of his kids, music was the path that he chose to try and make sense of … being.
The opening Ghost Dog is a tale of a spirit guide; lightly double-tracked vocals and glockenspiel give the album somewhat of an Eels-like lift-off. Penn leans more into the indie-folk side of the spectrum than Everett, however, which is consolidated on the following lead-in single and second track, Hawk Circling. Banjo and semi-sung and spoken vocals sum up the fact that “one man’s crazy is another man’s wild and free”
Thick and Thin is a sing-along celebration of family with a tidy soulful guitar motif that adds to the hooky melody. Barbecue Smoke begins solemnly with bass and piano before hushed vocals appear over a heartbeat rhythm. Penn’s vocal strays towards a fragile falsetto on the delicate Wildfire, before occupying a place of greater sonic strength on The Devil I Know.
Lettin’ Loose takes a jazzier, piano-rooted route, it being a late-night rumination on forms of escape and restriction, seen through a familial lens. There’s enigma and perception – and perspective on Compensation (Or, The Snake Song), which benefits musically from some desolate pedal steel. The title track, It Took A Long Time To Get Young, based on a quotation from Picasso about finding your inner innocent child with the advance of age, comes up two-thirds of the way through and is a sparse discussion of that idea. Again, pedal steel adds glowing texture and acts as a smooth foil to Penn’s breaking vocals.
Gold Rush, the penultimate track, switches in style between gentle folkie musings and psychedelic noise and harmonic exploration, all based around a core, steady, but non-click-tracked rhythm. It’s more of a personal fever dream than a Spector-esque widescreen take, but interesting in its dynamic musical variety.
Final track Two Sides of the Sun lyrically pulls the experiences and changes of life together: “If time’s just a record of change, is it a record of healing or a record of pain?” It’s certainly one to peruse on and a valid open conclusion to draw from Penn’s life experiences, brought to the attention of the universal.
