NATHAN
Jimson Weed
Nettwerk
Winnipeg group rises to the daunting task of following their stunning debut.
On rare occasions, it takes only a bucket of well-drawn understatement to wash away an entire ocean of salty hyperbole. Anyone who witnessed Nathans Calgary folkfest performances can testify to their abundant, free-flowing charms.
Jimson Weed (a poisonous and hallucinogenic prairie plant) gives us a worthy followup to Stranger, their auspicious 2001 debut. The albums intriguing artwork, hand-quilted by the band members themselves, is indicative of Nathans craftsmanship and attention to detail. Songwriters Keri Metighe and Shelley Marshall wring torrents of meaning out of every carefully nuanced turn of phrase and cleverly extended metaphor. Melancholy takes over from morbidity. Minimalist narratives float along on gorgeous melodies winding through hillbilly-country, shimmering-folk and acoustic-pop territory.
Metighe tackles the theremin on the opening track, "Sunset Chaser," and Marshall deftly picks a six-string banjo in addition to her guitar and accordion contributions. Newest Nathanite Burke Carroll adds dobro and pedal steel to the already potent brew. The crisp production by Jane Siberry alumnus John Switzer captures even the most delicate of sonic textures. Jimson Weed is a compelling testimony to the often underrated, seductive powers of simple subtlety.
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