It may be a lonesome march for our erstwhile hero, but for the listener this is about as far from solitude as you can get without grafting yourself onto a neighbour. It’s no surprise that Blacklock’s long-heralded debut is teeming with fascinating, frightening and flawed characters; with a Creative Writing degree under his belt, the sense of world-building is strong. By the end of album opener Cocaine Days (whose video faced a slightly controversial introduction to the world) we’re already drenched in detail.
Though it’s a somewhat splatterpunk tone that sees Wilson Tumbleweed sally forth across the album in pursuit of his sister/lover Ophelia, it’s not gore or shock that drives the album’s momentum. Blacklock’s voice is that of a carnival barker, and without even touching on the musical strengths, there’s a very grim delight in sitting back and following him down this dark and troubling road.
There are inspirations that Blacklock wears quite openly here – Tom Waits, Nick Cave and Black Francis are the first that come to mind. But there are layers that, for all their savagery and sorrow, bring to mind more expansive acts like The Flaming Lips and The Decemberists; something warm and theatrical.
Songs like Hotel Lacuna and Nickle and a Rag showcase a band adept at chaos, but for all of the rollicking, blood-spattered doom folk on offer, the album never sounds messy. It paints with a thick and colourful brush; if you know you’re damned, why not revel in it?
Standout track Tooth and Nail closes the album and is a bittersweet electuary for the trauma of Tumbleweed. Given its essentially a lament for an “incestuous princess”, it’s also a coda – indeed, an entire album – you won’t soon forget.
BY ADAM NORRIS
