A.A. Bondy “When The Devil’s Loose” Review
The reason that people are enamored with the singer-songwriter concept is that we all love the idea of conveying our innermost thoughts, hopes, dreams, ruminations, and beliefs through music. Yet, despite such desires, most of us don’t possess the talents necessary to shape words and melodies into the proper form, or at least not a form that will have people singing along at a show, fashioning a mixtape, or spend hours upon hours teaching themselves how to play guitar—all because of one single, memorable, unforgettable song. While the likes of Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, and others sing about feelings and situations shared by many members of the music-loving public most of us can’t craft the thoughts and chords into a coherent whole that others will appreciate.
What makes A.A. Bondy stand out from his fellow guitar-strumming contemporaries is his ability to pair his beleaguered voice with a brand of road-weary folk rock that’s intimately accessible, without sounding stale or hackneyed. Opposed to indulging in the sort of overtly passionate melodrama that passes for emotional transparency these days, When The Devil’s Loose finds Bondy singing song after gut-wrenching song, yet doing so with a strength that gives his pathos that much more depth. He doesn’t have to belt out his lyrics at full volume, wailing on his guitar with tears in his eyes and a bleeding heart on his sleeve, for listeners to connect with his songs, to believe that what he’s singing is oh-so-true.
Moreover, what advances Bondy’s cause is that he’s able to sing songs packed with political, spiritual, and romantic imagery without sounding like an overzealous, strident demagogue. When he pleads to Delia in the record’s title track, “What does the mirror show you? Can you see the grave? Your sadness, it is quite lovely, but it’s the sadness of the slave,” he doesn’t shriek, moan, or howl to get across exactly what he’s feeling and thinking. If Damien Rice grew a pair of balls, absorbed some of David Bazan’s somber sorrows, and actually knew how to affect some of Nick Cave’s melancholy delivery, you might have an idea of the power of Bondy’s style.
Sure, it’s folk music—we’ve all heard these familiar cadences and chord progressions before—but we listen because we want to listen to songs that give voice to our problems in ways we cannot. Bondy, thankfully, has no need for theatrics as a songwriter: he can deliver the punch of the story without resorting to a tawdry, over-the-top anthem, but he also knows when to step back from the mic and give the music space to breathe on its own. Songs like “A Slow Parade,” the title cut (one of my favorites so far from 2009), and “The Coal Hits The Fire” possess a strong, steady pacing complete with electric guitars laden with washes of reverb and delay, giving this record a finely honed mournful tone with undeniable appeal. Not only is there “No hiding from the mightiest of guns” (as the album’s opening track declares), but there’s no hiding from the solid songwriting found on When The Devil’s Loose.
[Review by guest contributor Adam P. Newton.]
A.A. Bondy “I Can See The Pines Are Dancing” [MP3]
A.A. Bondy “When The Devil’s Loose” [MP3]
