Lou Barlow
Goodnight Unknown
(Merge, 2009)

It’s been four years since Emoh? Really? Well, I guess it makes sense that I haven’t necessarily missed Lou Barlow in the last four years. Any of his varying bands, from Dinosaur Jr. to Sebadoh to the Folk Implosion, never really leave my listening repertoire. I go through Barlow phases pretty frequently, seemingly content with what he’s given us thus far. Not to mention the fact that he’s reunited and put out two new albums with Dinosaur Jr., plus he has reissued three of Sebadoh’s classic albums.

However, even though I didn’t think I was missing new musical genius from Barlow, I was. I suppose these things just have a way of showing themselves to be true only after they appear. How Goodnight Unknown could add any more value to his already lengthy, kickass discography of music comes as a bit of a surprise to me, but I’m happy to report that it totally delivers. This is classic Barlow, and his passion for lo-fi creativity still thrives.

When first listening to the record, there’s not exactly an overwhelming sense that Barlow is traversing much new territory (old Lou is still writing on themes of anxiety and ambivalence, but also about still having faith in daily proceedings, enough to move forward), but with some knowledge of his hard work and processes, it reminds us that his creative output has never been the kind to smack one in the face for recognition. Luckily, there’s a short documentary about the making of Goodnight Unknown to give us some insight, where we can view raw footage of Barlow in his studio as he narrates the making of the album.

In particular, there is a scene in which he takes children’s wind-up toys apart, breaking down the melodies of the toys songs and isolating single notes. From there, he would layer that single note with similar notes from other toys onto a cassette four-track, fading them up and down, as if to almost play the four-track as an instrument to create a bed of chimes. Barlow comments in the short film that it was a very involved process, to extract a note, round all the notes up, and adjust the pitch control. These tinkering sounds show up on many songs on Goodnight Unknown (“Too Much Freedom”, “The Right”, “I’m Thinking…”, “One Machine, One Long Fight”, and elsewhere), clinking noises that squirm just below the surface. If a person didn’t know any better, these subtle nuances would easily be glossed over.

Where Emoh was a mostly acoustic, well-produced affair, Goodnight Unknown emerges with the hard-charging “Sharing”, establishing a rock tone that hearkens back to some early Sebadoh tracks and also brings to mind Folk Implosion’s One Part Lullaby. In fact, just as that album was about Barlow’s love/hate relationship with Los Angeles, Goodnight Unknown at times speaks to that same theme as well. “Faith in Your Heartbeat” could be one of those tracks. Barlow sings, “Find me a place rules can be broken / Way out into the open / California, bury me / Have faith in your heartbeat.” Thanks in part to the Melvins’ drummer Dale Crover, many of the tracks on the album take on a more rock-oriented shape. There’s also a yearning urgency to Goodnight Unknown that takes form, not just in the rockers, but also in the tuneful acoustic pop songs. Credit here must also be given to Imaad Wasif (Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Alaska!) whose pretty guitar work appears on seven of the 14 tracks here, including “Don’t Apologize”, which is one of the best tracks on the album, as good as anything Barlow’s ever done.

When all is said and done, however, the songwriting is the most prevalent aspect of Goodnight Unknown. The melodic, driving “I’m Thinking…” is sure to have fans of his lyricism nodding along in assured recognition. Full of sharp rockers and contagious pop twists, the lyrics contained within this album will drill you to the core with all the heartbreak and playfulness Barlow is known for.

Watch: Goodnight Unknown documentary [at youtube.com]

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