Wovenhand
Ten Stones
(Sounds Familyre, 2008)
Remember Sufjan Stevens? His openly Christian beliefs felt (and still feel) rather rare in indie pop/rock circles. Being openly religious and critically successful is unusual today, but NPR and the blog-reading public were very receptive to his tuneful, carefully crafted folk-pop, and rightly so; his music is terrific! Compared to Stevens, it might be a bit more difficult for secular listeners to engage with Wovenhand, a band who is often more forward in its sung sentiments, as in these verses from “Not One Stone”: “This weary melody ends / The host of heaven descends / Down beneath this bleeding ground / Behold the lamb.” David Eugene Edwards, the group’s singer, guitarist, and chief songwriter, conjures up undeniably Biblical images, but he gives them a pained, unfamiliar new context on Ten Stones, his fourth full-length as Wovenhand.
The band’s name refers to hands clasped in prayer, fingers intently interlocked as if woven together, but make no mistake—Wovenhand is far too strange to be placed anywhere in the mostly dreadful domain of CCM. As opaque as Edwards is in regards to his Christian religion, his engagement with this faith and these images is messy and oblique. It’s a compelling approach, because he’s willing to struggle with the complexity of living his beliefs, despite their face-value simplicity. Ten Stones has an emotional resonance that anybody, religious or not, should be able to identify with: The difficulty of following through upon one’s principles in practice, especially when few others appear to be carrying out their own.
In addition to his voice and guitar, Edwards also brings a banjo and concertina to bear here. His vocal range is remarkable, equally suited to high drama (“White Knuckle Grip”) and woozy reflection (the cover of Antonio Carlos Jobim’s “Quiet Nights of Quiet Stars”, which you likely know from Getz/Gilberto). Daniel Smith, the songwriter behind Sounds Familyre labelmates Danielson, co-produces here with Edwards, and what results is the document of an emotional trajectory that is perhaps fictional, but likely portrays one of Edwards’ actual experiences. Ten Stones’ first half is an act of expulsion and illumination, bringing to light sin and wrongdoing that had been conveniently ignored, and attempting to expel what is undesirable. “Horsetail” and the earlier quoted “Not One Stone” are delivered with a cartoon-like conviction, and are so dramatic as to be difficult to take seriously at first. Repeated listens reveal a peculiar logic to what happens here, as the increasingly operatic tone gives way to the Jobim cover and the wheezing, overwhelming stomp of “White Knuckle Grip” and its strange refrain: “I’ve got a white knuckle grip on my Saturday night!”
The resolution to the building tension comes quietly and towards the end of the record. On “Kingdom of Ice”, Edwards sings out like a revival preacher facing a dust storm of dim hopes, and the brooding quiet that follows on the 10th tune, “His Loyal Love”, and the unlisted 11th track suggest a wiping clean has taken place in some capacity. An industrial, droning hum constitutes the final track, suggesting a solitude that, while worn and imperfect (creaking and cracking, rusty-sounding and gritty), gives events a quietly optimistic turn. Perhaps Edwards, or whoever the character is that sings these songs, has been purged of angst and unrest, or a momentary peace has settled in by the end of this spiritual experience. The 10 stones have toppled (“Not one stone atop another will stand”), allowing the opportunity to get a steady footing even as the ground underneath continually shifts, sinks, and trembles.
Listen: Various Tracks [at myspace.com]
More articles like this:
Sweet Jesus! Where Rock Meets Religion
Ex Post Facto: Sufjan Stevens’ Illinois
Album review: Bodies of Water, A Certain Feeling
Loading ...
Wovenhand
by: Michael Harkin
Ten Stones
(Sounds Familyre, 2008)
Remember Sufjan Stevens? His openly Christian beliefs felt (and still feel) rather rare in indie pop/rock circles. Being openly religious and critically successful is unusual today, but NPR and the blog-reading public were very receptive to his tuneful, carefully crafted folk-pop, and rightly so; his music is terrific! Compared to Stevens, it might be a bit more difficult for secular listeners to engage with Wovenhand, a band who is often more forward in its sung sentiments, as in these verses from “Not One Stone”: “This weary melody ends / The host of heaven descends / Down beneath this bleeding ground / Behold the lamb.” David Eugene Edwards, the group’s singer, guitarist, and chief songwriter, conjures up undeniably Biblical images, but he gives them a pained, unfamiliar new context on Ten Stones, his fourth full-length as Wovenhand.
The band’s name refers to hands clasped in prayer, fingers intently interlocked as if woven together, but make no mistake—Wovenhand is far too strange to be placed anywhere in the mostly dreadful domain of CCM. As opaque as Edwards is in regards to his Christian religion, his engagement with this faith and these images is messy and oblique. It’s a compelling approach, because he’s willing to struggle with the complexity of living his beliefs, despite their face-value simplicity. Ten Stones has an emotional resonance that anybody, religious or not, should be able to identify with: The difficulty of following through upon one’s principles in practice, especially when few others appear to be carrying out their own.
In addition to his voice and guitar, Edwards also brings a banjo and concertina to bear here. His vocal range is remarkable, equally suited to high drama (“White Knuckle Grip”) and woozy reflection (the cover of Antonio Carlos Jobim’s “Quiet Nights of Quiet Stars”, which you likely know from Getz/Gilberto). Daniel Smith, the songwriter behind Sounds Familyre labelmates Danielson, co-produces here with Edwards, and what results is the document of an emotional trajectory that is perhaps fictional, but likely portrays one of Edwards’ actual experiences. Ten Stones’ first half is an act of expulsion and illumination, bringing to light sin and wrongdoing that had been conveniently ignored, and attempting to expel what is undesirable. “Horsetail” and the earlier quoted “Not One Stone” are delivered with a cartoon-like conviction, and are so dramatic as to be difficult to take seriously at first. Repeated listens reveal a peculiar logic to what happens here, as the increasingly operatic tone gives way to the Jobim cover and the wheezing, overwhelming stomp of “White Knuckle Grip” and its strange refrain: “I’ve got a white knuckle grip on my Saturday night!”
The resolution to the building tension comes quietly and towards the end of the record. On “Kingdom of Ice”, Edwards sings out like a revival preacher facing a dust storm of dim hopes, and the brooding quiet that follows on the 10th tune, “His Loyal Love”, and the unlisted 11th track suggest a wiping clean has taken place in some capacity. An industrial, droning hum constitutes the final track, suggesting a solitude that, while worn and imperfect (creaking and cracking, rusty-sounding and gritty), gives events a quietly optimistic turn. Perhaps Edwards, or whoever the character is that sings these songs, has been purged of angst and unrest, or a momentary peace has settled in by the end of this spiritual experience. The 10 stones have toppled (“Not one stone atop another will stand”), allowing the opportunity to get a steady footing even as the ground underneath continually shifts, sinks, and trembles.
Listen: Various Tracks [at myspace.com]
More articles like this:
Sweet Jesus! Where Rock Meets Religion
Ex Post Facto: Sufjan Stevens’ Illinois
Album review: Bodies of Water, A Certain Feeling
by: Michael Harkin
published: September 3, 2008
in column: Reviews
no comments yet
Tags: