The Low Anthem – Smart Flesh

By Brian Kelly

“All delusions of grandeur, they’ve long left my head
As I gave up the notion that I’ve been well bred
First she shot me with whiskey, then chased me with gin
But I swore I was the cure for the shape she was in”
- Apothecary Love {Track 2, off of ‘Smart Flesh’ by The Low Anthem}

“Smart Flesh” by The Low Anthem is an early contender for one of 2011′s best releases.  The third full length by the Rhode Island quartet continues their musical exploration with Modern American music drawing melodies from folk, country, blues, gospel and rock.  Composers and band founders, Ben Knox Miller and Jeff Prystowsky, continue to share writing duties putting focus on the band, “All songs by The Low Anthem except where noted” is a pretty rare, non-selfish feat in modern American music.  R.E.M.’s business model and independent spirit, a one for all/all for 1 model, seems to loom large on The Low Anthem’s recordings.  “Smart Flesh” is their first official release for a major label (Nonesuch; the label that allowed Wilco to get away with being artistically boring for a decade, while becoming as large & influential as R.E.M.), and it’s a quiet/loud statement to enjoy fully based on the collective’s live, atmospheric efforts.

Recorded in a deserted pasta factory amongst it’s credit claims, the record’s sound brings to recollection great recordings like The Trinity Sessions by The Cowboy Junkies, Johnny Cash’s bellowing 50s and early 60s Sun Records recordings, and the great Gram Parson’s compositions circa The Sweethearts of the Rodeo/Byrds era.  Take one listen to “Apothecary Love” without trying to think of Gram Parsons, Gene Clark and Roger McGuinn circa ‘Sweetheart’ -or say someone younger like Jay Farrar- stepping in to sing lead.  It’s beautiful and historically influenced heartbreak.  Try on the record’s opening track (Ghost Woman Blues) below for further proof need be.

These 11 songs are perfect folk songs drawing inspiration from folk-rock’s elite as much as they lift from earlier 19th century’s folk, gospel and blues standards.  Each one triggering a familiar Modern American memory while establishing anew.

Even when The Low Anthem step it up a notch on the barn basher, “Boeing 737,” try and not imagine yourself in a deserted downtown American factory experiencing hollow air being filled with a 1920s folk melody, while feedback bounces off the walls between you and the band. Try.

Over the course of 11 songs, The Low Anthem succeeds emotionally, literally, musically, and technically, by creating the sound of America now, defeated & drunk with a slight glimmer of hungover hope. After-all, those empty buildings downtown (everywhere) are for the taking now; and for creating something new from something old.

BK