The Milk Carton Kids. (Photo: Joshua Black Wilkins) |
In the prologue of Robert Hilburn’s new biography of Paul Simon, he tells the story of Simon’s early working method as a composer, relaying how “Simon took his acoustic guitar into the family bathroom, where the tile made the sound all the more alluring, and he turned off the lights so that he could relax and feel totally at one with the music . . . as he sat alone, these words eventually burst forward: ‘Hello darkness, my old friend.’” I’m going to review Hilburn’s book in a few weeks but I couldn’t help but think of this description in appreciation for the alluring and introspective music of The Milk Carton Kids, an American duo featuring Kenneth Pattengale and Joey Ryan. Their new album on ANTI, produced by Joe Henry, has a long, explanatory title, All The Things That I Did and All The Things That I Didn’t Do which brought to mind William Blake’s “Songs of Innocence and Experience,” and it consists of twelve carefully written and arranged songs about adulthood. Ironically, the California duo has only been together for seven years, yet seem like old souls addressing the perils of aging.
One of the great joys of hearing the duo in performance is to appreciate
their sardonic sense of humour. This was particularly unusual when I saw The Kids with Emmylou Harris in 2016, at Massey Hall. They shared the stage
with Steve Earle, Robert Plant and Ron Sexsmith for a benefit concert in
support of displaced refugees. Pattengale is the more serious of the two,
while Ryan uses irony to express his quiet cynicism. Their
personalities aside, The Milk Carton Kids take their music seriously and
have been able to carve out a career with a sound that I would characterize
as “chamber folk,” designed for intimate listening in small rooms. Until
this record was released on June 29, Pattengale and Ryan only performed
with their vintage acoustic guitars, providing just the right accompaniment
to their exquisite sound, a variation on The Everly Brothers and Simon
& Garfunkel. But their songs are much more introspective, closer to
“The Sound of Silence” than “Bye Bye Love,” and this album expands their
palette.
The Milk Carton Kids performing in NPR's Tiny Desk Concert series. (Photo: NPR) |
This new release (their fourth album since 2011) features a larger
ensemble of musicians usually associated with producer Joe Henry, including
Jay Bellerose on percussion and Henry’s son, Levon, on woodwinds. Joe’s been
able to bring a larger expressiveness to the songs while keeping The Kids
front and center. It’s this blending of sounds that makes for an articulate
record full of grace and subtlety. Most of the songs have an inner pulse, an introspective feel about them that truly requires one to listen hard.
This is particularly true of the aforementioned “One More For The Road” and
the title track, a song full of regret for a fearful relationship that ends
badly. It’s a deep tune that only could be written out of experience. And indeed, Pattengale’s seven-year relationship ended just as the duo was
about to work on the new album.
But all is not doom and gloom; one of the collection’s highlights is
the up-tempo “Nothing Is Real.” “Mourning in America” sounds like a present
day update to Paul Simon’s 1967 tune “America,” intentionally
reflecting The Kids' observations about the country's current emotional state.
In describing the duo’s artistic vision, Pattengale summed it up in a
recent
NPR interview: “You do the best that you can. You follow your north star. You make sure
there's nothing you'll regret. Then you start the lifelong work of
accepting what you did as valid. I regret nothing.” Overall, producer Henry and his trusted engineer Ryan Freeland have
done a terrific job with the sound of this album. The off-the-floor feeling
of the music, recorded in Nashville in “The Sun Room” studio, is earthy,
warm and honest. My guess is it was small.
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