Leopold and his Fiction
Ain’t No Surprise
(Green Light Go, 2009)

Minimalist garage-rock, the kind that brings to mind clattering noise from Detroit or the boisterous racket from a back-alley bar in an old mining town somewhere, seems to be harder and harder to find these days. Perhaps there are so many influences and modes of music from which to draw that the pure stuff, the blues-based clamor that uses simple chord progressions and a guttural vocal twang, drowns beneath too many disparate musical threads. It wasn’t too long ago that the White Stripes emerged, hitting the scene with force, then unapologetically permeated it with their own minimalist sound, one with a bite but staunchly uncluttered—it’s straight-up garage rock revival.

I bring up the White Stripes because Leopold and his Fiction have been, and will continue to be so long as they are still making their name be known, likened to the White Stripes. And that’s not bad company. Leopold and his Fiction is a threesome living in San Francisco, and they’ve brought to their ensemble a dynamic that, though drawn from various places across the States, seemingly gelled with ease once landing alongside the Bay’s inviting shores. Steeped in smoky Detroit clubs but tinged with a psych-rock edge (notably in third track “Broke”), the band conveys a husky drawl entrenched in a masked mystery of authenticity. I guess I didn’t realize my ears were in the market for this sort of rock ‘n’ roll until I perked up at the opening notes of the band’s second album, Ain’t No Surprise.

Leopold and his Fiction was initially a twosome, but one can surmise from the press release that the band today is a trio, with additional personnel employed for recording and touring. Original member Ben came from Kentucky, which likely invited that rugged country swagger to the formative stages of their sound, though he’s since departed the group. Daniel James is from Detroit, an easy enough association. Enter bassist Micayla Grace (what a name) and drummer Jon Sortland to make up the current incarnation of this band along with James. The ramshackle style and rustic revival stem from parts of America’s deep, dark underbelly and together meld into a recipe of rootsy fervor.

Stripped-down honky tonk emanates from the center of the record, and bleed from every song contained there within. It has an unrefined yowl, but there are more tender moments tucked inside. See “Tiger Lily” and its gentle profession of love’s most beautiful, and most painful, moments. (“There is an answer to your pride / And truth unfettered by disguise / Now when the morning time has come / Ring in the gently risen sun”). And check out “Pretty Neat” for a folky pluck of a song that showcases some of the band’s more poignant lyrics (“You dance around when water’s coming down / Without benefit or sound to guide your way / After the rain will crawl into the sea / To witness what could be our gentle throne”).

Ain’t No Surprise is nothing revelatory, but that’s what I am most attracted to on this particular morning as I write this review. At a critical time in popular music’s increasingly intricate evolution, we seem to run the risk of expecting much of today’s output to go in too many different directions. And I currently find myself looking forward, wondering where and when the fork in the road of rock ‘n’ roll will come to pass. But right now, I don’t want to make anything more complicated… I just want to listen. Leopold and his Fiction remind me that sometimes the best formula is to just bring it back to its roots.

Listen: Various Tracks [at myspace.com]

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