SOMETHING like an Americana pike, Damien Jurado lurks in the recesses with the potential to make waves. Jurado is a reclusive character, but quietly prolific.
Much like Elliott Smith, it is possible to track the trajectory from field recordings to more ambitious and realised work.
Saint Bartlett opens strongly – with the call and response of Cloudy Shoes shimmering in it’s sympathetic production.
Producer and collaborator Richard Swift, himself no slouch as a songwriter, seems to have divined a sound that aims for vintage Van Morrison. On Wallingford the pair pull it off.
While the sound of the album is a key strength, for too much of the 36 minutes Jurado is glum without any obvious reason why.
Inaccessible and sulky aren’t the most desirable attributes in a performer looking to find a larger audience, so he looks destined to remain out of sight in the shallows.
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