Hear Nothing, See Nothing, Say Nothing

Kurt Vile-Constant Hitmaker (Gulcher Records)  Kurt Vile (real name, apparently) has restored what little dignity there was to be had within the singer-songwriter genre. It is not as though he is cut from that cloth, exactly…heaven forbid! To be honest, his rock/psych eccentricities bear greater likeness to the gamut-running pop collages of Ariel Pink or the fx-laden weirdo warblings of John Maus. Still, such FM radio dial-influenced deconstructions, mutations, and ruminations exemplify neither the ’60s anglophile chic of the former artist nor the eclectic synth-based musings of the latter.

No, “Constant Hitmaker” provides an impressive and perplexing outsider homage to a rich tapestry of ’60s/’70s/80s Americana-lite, at certain intervals dripping with the sort of rugged small town, apple pie sheen that might satiate devotees of Melloncamp or even the boss, while at others submerged in a perplexing, vertigo-inducing swamp of blown out clamor, psych splurge, and fractured pop nostalgia.

Wrapped in cocoons of feedback and burnt reverb lies an otherworldly fascination with second hand oldies jaunts, radio rock anthems, and murky roots-inflected meandering. With effortless zeal, Vile also elicits fragments of Neil Young-esque ballads and the sort of dark country-blues six string rambling exemplified by Robert Johnson (or Charlie Patton, for that matter), channeling these sounds into his own outlandish balladry.

The stylized influences may be recognizable, but it is the way Mr. Vile subverts these things—twists them, submerges them beneath tweaked bargain basement drum machines, ambient drone, vocal manipulation, and a varied assortment of substance induced, feedback-ensconced aural trippage -that truly sets this outing apart from the pack.

A wonderful thing indeed, this knack for constant hitmaking.

Thank you Mr. Vile,

Sincerely yours,

 Mike Ramek