Scott Tuma Not For Nobody

An androgynous, child-like and almost uncomfortably bizarre falsetto emerges in the early moments of Scott Tuma’s latest effort, Not For Nobody. The voice is disconcerting and brutally vulnerable and will likely turn away many listeners expecting the melodic folk-ambient instrumentals of his previous solo work. Although most of this record is in fact instrumental, the opening effectively triggers the reflective moroseness that permeates all twelve of the tracks. I must warn the listener that this is sad bastard music of a different calibre; it should only be reserved for the most hopeless, rock-bottom brand of melancholy. That said, it’s also rewarding for those of us vicariously living through the sensibilities of tortured artists like Mr. Tuma.

The instrumentation in Not For Nobody is not limited to guitar and frankly, I’m not sure what instruments he’s using on several tracks (the austere cardboard digipak does not provide any useful information in this regard). I’m not even sure it’s Tuma’s own singing I described earlier (although it certainly sounds like its tape speed has been manipulated). Although I’m tentative to compare this record with anything in recent memory, I don’t think I’m going out on a limb when I say that if Christian Fennesz were to make a folk album, he might get something like Not For Nobody. This is not to say that this feels like laptop-synthesized music in any way. In fact, this album sounds about as lo-fi as it gets (note the tape hiss at the beginning of most tracks and the field recordings in the background of Nobody and Repreived). Despite the cinematic moments in the middle third of the album, the climax might come during Moccasoclea and Rakes which are sparse, beautiful guitar pieces well worth the price of admission.

The strange voice reappears briefly in the final track and, like a dying ghost waiting to dissolve into the ether, it yields to the comforting sound of a creaking chair rocking and wind chimes gently colliding in the breeze.