Another self-titled album that is not the artist’s debut. Wrong as this is, I will set it aside and focus, as ever, on the music.
Disc 1858 is…Self-Titled
Artist: Cut Worms
Year of Release: 2023
What’s up with the Cover? Man plays guitar. Awkwardly. When I first got my guitar I took a picture of myself holding it in what I thought was a “I’m playing a guitar!” pose. I was later to learn, to my chagrin, that it was not.
This picture reminds me of that, and not in a good way.
How I Came To Know It: I was already a fan of Cut Worms having bought their 2020 release “Nobody Lives Here Anymore” so when this album came out I gave it a listen and liked what I heard.
How It Stacks Up: I have two Cut Worms albums, and if you’ve been reading along to this point, you already know what they are.
Ratings: 3 stars
Despite embracing the very modern conceit of performing under a false name Max Clarke (aka Cut Worms) is a throwback to a bygone era.
Clarke is far from exploring new ground, but the ground he drives makes for a smooth and comfortable ride – maybe in some mid-sixties family sedan. Like a Rambler. Clarke’s nasally tone and the production’s very minimal low-end bass would sound just find on the AM radio in that Rambler. On my stereo it felt a little tinny at times, but it was designed to sound that way.
I spent Sunday listening to a couple of more compelling vocalists in Ana Egge and Jeffrey Martin, and as a result Clarke’s high drift did not have the level of gravitas I was hoping for. I had a hard time paying attention to what he was singing about and mostly focused on the easy breezy sixties feel of his delivery.
There is a bit of modernity in the structures, but it’s a callback to previous versions of modernity. Think Beach Boys, but less “Barbara Ann” and more “Pet Sounds”. Sunny sixties fun, but with a bit of sad detachment lurking in and around the delivery; a mist of regret rising up from the pavement, like a hot day right after a rain.
For all this diffusion and detachment (and there is a fair bit of it), Cut Worms still manages to transport you to this alternate universe where the sixties didn’t die, but just flowered further into its full self.
The opening track, “Don’t Fade Out” has a delightful through-line of piano that makes it the album’s most energetic track. All that energy has a delightful irony given the song’s subject, which exhorts its audience to not “fade out”. Hard to imagine it’ll happen, but Clarke does a good job of leaving the matter in question. Fun, but with a healthy dollop of concern that the fun will one day end.
The guitar work on the record is strong, and the tone of Clarke’s playing on “Take It and Smile” belies the terrible pose he strikes on the cover. The vocals can sometimes suffer from detachment, and the guitar helps bring you back and lets you know that deep down, yes, Cut Worms feels the feels.
On “Is It Magic?” the guitar has a south sea islands feel, with a delivery so relaxed you’ll feel the sway of palm trees and have a compelling desire to drink cocktails garnished with pineapple slices and tiny umbrellas. I didn’t love “Is it Magic?” but I admit it made for a very relaxing three and a half minutes.
The record ends strong, with the pensive and introspective “Too Bad”. “Too Bad” is a song about loss and becoming lost, and while one of the record’s sadder tunes, is also one of the more beautiful. Even the low end makes a hesitant visit to the mix, and amidst images of burning ships and blank-faced compasses you don’t find yourself so much as you find acceptance in dissolution.
While there was a part of me that wanted cleaner production and more gravitas in the delivery, I still enjoyed Cut Worms in all their hazy glory. Three stars.
Best tracks: Don’t Fade Out, Take It and Smile, I’ll Never Make It, Too Bad
