Well, it’s my own fault for moaning earlier this month that I was bored. It’s certainly picked up release-wise in the last week or so, for as well as the things already covered in the last week or so, there’s this gem released just the other day, something odd on its way in the post from the States hopefully this week, something really nice out next week, something I’ve been waiting on for 8 years the week after, and another highly-anticipated one the week after that. And then it’s a brief jaunt around the country meeting friends old & new whilst avoiding others…
But enough about what’s to come, this is here now and it’s lovely. I’ve been a fan of Dana Falconberry for a couple of years now, since I got sent her Oh Skies Of Grey album by the lovely people of 00:02:59 records, followed by the wonderfully home-made Halletts follow-up EP at the beginning of 2010. The anticipation’s been building up a little bit here in advance of her new fan-pledged full LP (which should be out later this year), so it’s nice to have this little snippet of what we may expect.
Recorded in the interesting-musician-magnet of Austin TX, Though I Didn’t Call It Came is quarter of an hour of painting pictures of reminiscence and a cheerful connection with the landscapes of Dana’s recollections. This works especially well during opener Petosky Stone (fossilised coral, so the internet tells me), where a happy, skippy song, almost childlike in its playful, wide-eyed view of its surroundings before changing tack two-thirds of the way through to become something altogether more ethereal and wondrous, as if she’d stumbled across something long-forgotten and precious whilst relating her song.
Possum Song continues in a similar vein, the opening line of “I am not really alone if there are stars in the sky” making way for a song praising the joys of a solo walk; the sights, sounds and wonders all taken in by someone who is so eagerly allowing her senses to be flooded by nature. Muskegon briefly travels back to Dana’s Michigan roots and a mysterious apology for “the things I’ve done”, and this short appetizer ends with an acoustic rendition of Maple Leaf Red, linking colours and nature to evoke a (hopefully pleasant) memory.
Musically, it’s “as you were, and more” – Dana’s voice and the melodies that she produces are such a match for each other that it would be a shame to stray too far from each other. Instead, arrangements are explored and accomplished, from the full orchestral backing of Petoskey Stone, reminding me of The Leisure Society to the more singularly-performed Muskegon. But whether alone or with a cast of several behind her, the charm of each song is unique to this artist and this is a lovely way to spend quarter of an hour.
It’s strange for songs apparently so full of reminiscence, whether bidden or otherwise (which I guess would explain the EP’s title), should be able to so easily transfer themselves from the writer’s personal experience to the listener’s, but that’s the mystical nature of music in a nutshell. It’s well worth taking in Dana Falconberry’s collection of recollections, you’ll be surprised what it can unearth in your own subconscious.