Castanets Cathedral

Cathedral, which is described as "derailed psychedelic country" by singer/songwriter Raymond Raposa, or "avant-country" by his label Asthmatic Kitty, seems quick to distance itself from the expected labels of alt-country and Americana. To be honest, this is an album that should be distanced from such descriptors, as they have suffered horribly at the hands of musicians who have tended to use them as mere ironic backdrops to supposedly blue-collar tales of empty whisky bottles and broken hearts. This is an album going well beyond ironic laments at the saloon or mere romantic regrets, instead covering vast thematic ground while being equally haunting and menacing at the same time. This is music that allows the listener to see a dark underbelly of emotion, both in tragic death rattles and swampy elegies, and will damn/bless Castanets with countless comparisons to Will Oldham.

Raposa, and his band which is formed of other San Diego groups such as Pinback and Black Heart Procession, litter the song's murky guitar-led compositions with menacing and varied instrumentation such as toy pianos, bizarre and noisy percussion, drum machine and breath-taking pedal steel. The effects of this instrumentation are fascinating, as pedal steel cuts on Three Days, Four Nights, or as toy pianos tinkle away on Industry and Snow, only to be interrupted by a demented jamboree. The sparse vocals also add to the already overpowering textures, as Raposa describes all sorts of searching and dark meditation on love, faith and geography. As the album continues we realize we are just following Raposa on his strange quest, always just behind him, trying to search out the same answers. Along the way he meets, speaks to and tells us all of the vast characters and sights experienced, as diverse as old lovers, a bad-intentioned man by the river, and twisted American geography with streets that flow from hills. In The Smallest Bones we see God himself addressed directly with grim imagery: "My Lord/ It's an eternity/Waiting for me/There's a cancer/In the smallest bone/In the smallest breeze."

It should not be surprising after listening to this album, that Raposa travelled America via Greyhound bus for years, starting at age 15. Throughout this album we are never given any answers, but our narrator hasn't figured it out for himself yet either. Although we can't experience these travels and experiences first-hand, that's all for the better: the destinations could never be as interesting as this album's ambiguous journey.