Sometimes identifying an album’s themes requires a dose of imagination (or something stronger), and sometimes they’re as obvious as a four-by-four to the forehead. No music writers were harmed in the preparation of this review, but I can confidently report that Lost In A Sound is, for the most part, an exploration of two contrasting environments: the ocean and the desert. Most of its tracks illustrate—sometimes abstractly, sometimes concretely, sometimes vividly—the characteristics and atmosphere of these two very different settings.

Lost In A Sound is also the fourth full album celebrating the songwriting and arranging partnership of singer-multi-instrumentalist Ian M. Bailey and Daniel Wylie (Cosmic Rough Riders), both highly observant worshippers of The Byrds, and in particular Gene Clark and Gram Parsons. Bailey’s work on vocals, guitar, bass, drums and keys is once again aided and abetted by multi-instrumentalist/string arranger/mastering engineer Alan Gregson.

Bailey and company open with antiwar anthem “Rooks” charging into view, featuring multiple densely layered guitars and airy, psychedelic-tinged vocals. It’s one of two tracks here that fall outside of the ocean/desert dichotomy (though it might have with a few tweaks); the other is “New Years Eve 2010,” a bright and mournful breakup song whose lyric feels a tad on the nose.

In between the two we find a trio of ocean-themed numbers. “I’ll Be There To Save You” opens with the sound of a foghorn, a strummy, mid-tempo, rather cinematic number about showing up for the people you love that adds touches of piano and electric guitar as it builds. “White Whale” then delivers a simple, gentle, rather dreamy celebration of the beluga, whose swelling strings midway through feel like a score for footage of whales in the wild. Finally, “Deep Blue Water” is a lush, spare, mostly instrumental and rather hypnotic meditation.

The second, “desert” half of the album opens with evocative instrumental “Desert High,” its dense arrangement and vibe reminiscent of “Eight Miles High.” Standout track “Welcome To The Desert” arrives with bigger guitars yet, a robust jangle fresh out of 1967 contrasted with echoey vocals, a number full of drive, mystery and evocative descriptions of arid landscapes.

Next up, the deliberate, “blurry,” atmospheric verses of “Never Read The Signs” lead to string-laden, uplifting choruses about a European experiencing the California desert as an alien landscape. Then “Don’t Let The Garden Die” offers a light, rather Harrisonesque hippie interlude before we return to that alien landscape. Closer “The Desert Could Be Mars” is a study in contrasts, a slow, mournful acoustic number that leads to a dreamy bridge with big electric notes and swelling strings. This atmospheric and rather progressive track finishes up with an evocative coda, first gentle and acoustic, then—well, you’ll see.

Rating: B

User Rating: Not Yet Rated

Comments