Review Summary: The Butler Did It
It's always a peculiar moment when you first realise an artist's solo career has now extended beyond the lifespan of the band that made them famous in the first place. American Music Club were active between 1983 to 1994 and released seven studio albums, before reforming in 2003 to drop a further two; Eitzel's solo career has now been running on and off for around twenty years and he's chalked up ten official full lengths under his own name. Going on just those stats you'd imagine Mark's solo career would punch a similar weight to his former band's legacy. Well, the reality's quite different; AMC's output has been placed on a 'cult classic' pedestal, while Eitzel's own work continues to fly way below the radar. Mark's knack for penning well crafted songs and engaging lyrics has rarely faltered over the years so how to explain this discrepancy? Well, one listen to 'Hey Mr Ferryman' and you're left to conclude that it might all just come down to the finer points of presentation.
In the field of the singer songwriter there often appears to be a sort of reverse snobbery in effect, one that argues that the more 'stripped down' and 'raw' a song's treatment, the better. Well, Eitzel's solo career reached the pinnacle of this ethos in 2009 with the release of 'Klamath', a distinctly minimal take on his style with the barest bones of keyboards and unfussy drum tracks backing Mark's finger picked guitar and doleful vocals. The man's song writing was just as consistent as ever and yet the album serves as the perfect example that paring everything back and keeping things as low key as possible doesn't always make for an instant classic. As enjoyable as the album was, it nonetheless had a tendency to blur together, and it was hard to shake the uncanny feeling that something essential was missing; was this treatment actually doing Eitzel's songs a slight disservice?
Intriguingly Mark's latest release, 'Hey Mr Ferryman', sits at the polar opposite end of the production scale; this is the fullest sounding album of Eitzel's solo career, only rivalled by 97's Peter Buck assisted 'West'. Here he's welcomed another kindred spirit collaborator into the fold in the form of multi instrumentalist and producer Bernard Butler, still most famous for having been lead guitarist in the original lineup of Brit Pop fops Suede. It's to this man we should proffer thanks for convincing Mark to abandon his original intention of recording 'Ferryman' as an all-acoustic affair. Instead Butler gently coaxed Eitzel into recording his most collaborative sounding music since the AMC reunion, providing his own guitar solos as well as inviting in a plethora of guest musicians and backing vocalists. Beyond these personnel additions Butler's other production choices work wonders here, the sound taking on a rich pop lustre that's not only consummately integrated with Mark's style, but also frequently elevates his work to newfound heights of compositional richness.
On the traditional skeletal Eitzel dirges like 'Nothing and Everything' or 'Sleep from My Eyes' Butler chooses to hang back a bit, limiting himself to providing some delicate piano or calling for the inclusion of smooth multi layered backing vocals. When the material demands something more expansive he holds nothing in reserve; the heroic solos of 'The Road'; the squalling guitar undercurrent that energises 'Mr Humphries'; the distortion that threatens to swallow up 'La Llorona'. There's also room for some more outré choices, such as the inspired pairing of a 'keyboard demo' clicking drum track with soft flutes on 'An Angel's Wing Brushed the Penny Slots', a perfect backing for Eitzel's darkly humorous 'I'll come back to haunt you' fable.
The songs themselves are certainly worthy of all this increased buff and shine, each easily ranking among Mark's very finest. 'The Road' breathes new life into that hoariest of song writing chestnuts, the 'band on the road lament'. Here Mark paints musicians as soldiers facing a never ending war, one they're destined to lose, all because of their undying devotion to 'the song'. 'Nothing and Everything' is an unflinching portrait of an abusive relationship delivered with customary razor sharp eloquence, lines like 'he's just a big child, it's just a game of tag' or 'when a coward's not found out it's nothing and everything' piling one atop the other until you're left feeling almost as numb as the narrator. Starker still is 'Just Because' which catches Mark musing on the common cruelties we inflict upon those we love the most, assuring his lover that he doesn't want to kill their soul, but in the same stroke reminding them that 'just because someone loves you doesn't mean you can throw them away'.
It's heartwarming to hear a grizzled veteran like Eitzel enthusing that 'Hey Mr Ferryman' was the album he always wanted to make but felt was beyond his abilities. In recent interviews he's joked that Butler's response to his demo recordings was to insist 'no, no, let's make a real album' and you know what, thank goodness for that. Mark has been lost in the wilderness for some years now, playing to a small flock of the faithful, always producing worthwhile art but at the same time never quite shaking off the notion he's falling some degree short of his true potential. More than that, in recent years his legacy looked to be in increasing danger of succumbing to an all pervading air of 'what could have been'. It's a relief then to report that, with 'Ferryman', Eitzel's finally delivered an album of such obvious quality that it effectively calls an end to all this preceding nonsense. Chalk it up as the first unexpected comeback of 2017; this self-advertised 'professional singer and ham' is back in business.
