Jay Farrar: Sebastopol : Music Reviews : Rolling Stone

Album Reviews

On his first solo album, Jay Farrar ventures a bit beyond the rustic string-band approach that made Americana pioneers of his old groups, Son Volt and Uncle Tupelo. There's nary a former band mate in sight; instead, the likes of Flaming Lips' Steven Drozd join him in fleshing out this varied lot of songs. You'll hear everything from sitar noise on "Prelude (Make It Alright)" to big, gonging bells on the grandly assertive "Clear Day Thunder." At the same time, Farrar remains grounded in the loamy soil of alt-folk, and these fourteen numbers cohere around his woozy, grainy voice - think Gene Clark and Michael Stipe - and sturdy acoustic strumming, which leads the charge on the chiming, melancholy "Voodoo Candle." He sings in elliptical riddles, dryly delivering lines like "Smoke beats water anyhow" ("Damn Shame") and "Glycerine time is a privilege earned" ("Damaged Son") as if they make perfect sense. And, in a way, they do.

PARKE PUTERBAUGH
(RS 880 - October 25, 2001)