#19: Wilderness

Archer Prewitt: Wilderness
There’s a line between John Mayer or James Blunt (who is this guy? He needs to be beaten with a crowbar) on the one hand, and Ron Sexsmith or Elliott Smith on the other. I’d say it’s a fine line, because that’s the cliché and it’s often hard to explain the differences between the two, but it’s not “fine” at all. It is instead usually painfully obvious, and of course, all-important.

Archer Prewitt, formerly of The Sea and Cake, had me on board with his fourth and best solo album at “We can survive on the canned goods / We can survive if we rationed it right,” a line a few minutes into the opener “Way of the Sun.” The first three songs on Wilderness, culminating with the lovely “O, Ky,” each draw on Prewitt’s prowess—writing songs with familiar, beautiful melodies but with unconventional elements of form. The Pitchfork review hit the nail on the head here--the codas and "bridges to nowhere" so common in classical music are usually nowhere to be found in indie rock. Prewitt uses these devices to create original acoustic ballads. It's not that hard, Johnny boy.

The second half of the album becomes darker in lyrical content and tone (“Think Again,” “Cheap Rhyme,” “Wilderness”), yet the songs continue to build and evolve, often changing from major to minor and back again. Prewitt's authentic-sounding songs don't merely repeat themselves, they actually each become something unique. The beauty and complexity of Wilderness suggests I'll be listening to it long after 2005.