American songwriters tell stories. Like Screamin' Jay Hawkins' narratives of black folklore and myth. Like in 1956 when Johnny Cash told us he shot a man in Reno just to watch him die. Like John Darnielle of the Mountain Goats' engrossing and sometimes credible tales of crystal-meth tweakers and washed-up high-school running backs.
The Fiery Furnaces (siblings Mathew and Eleanor Friedberger) tell stories, too. The stories are inspired by two songs from a pre-"Tommy" era Who, specifically "A Quick One While He's Away" and "Rael" - both of which employ linear narrative. "Blueberry Boat" uses sonic narrative one song at a time, but put them together and the album equates to one great literary adventure, told a chapter at a time, even with the occasional parallel to a story in the Old Testament.
The opening track is "Quay Cur," a 10-minute epic revealing the story of a lost locket, a ship and a dignitary named Sir Edward Pepsi. Sonically, it morphs from Brian Eno ambient piano electro-pop, ultimately breaking into aggressive garage blues and later down-tempo folk. Musically, "Quay Cur" is actually six small hymns combined into one vast song. Lyrically, its one long, rhythmic poem is filled with alliteration, tongue twisters, tall tales and verbose dexterity toggling between English to Inuit.
The title track is where the story begins to heat up. Eleanor Friedberger captains a ship and, en route to Hong Kong, is chased down and eventually hijacked by pirates. As the chase progresses, the tempo and momentum build, yielding to the pirates' eventual takeover and the conversations that follow.
The timeline throughout the overall story morphs from antiquated times of pirates, prostitutes, heroes and villains to modern America, with references scattered between Chicago, Houston, Beanie Babies, TCBY and Dexedrine.
But the most impressive facet of "Blueberry Boat" is not its remarkable storytelling capabilities over the course of 75 minutes. Instead, it's Matthew Friedberger's growth from the simple-in-comparison blues song structures of "Gallowsbird Bark" to an elaborate compositional masterwork. He handles sophisticated time changes, song breaks and complex orchestration with the poise, polish and experience of a 70-year-old avant-composer like John Cage. Matthew's John Cage perfectly complements Eleanor's Patti Smith.
"Gallowsbird Bark" was retrogressive but devoid of nostalgia. Notably, the debut introduced the Friedbergers as musicians who don't wear their influences on their sleeves. The latest album's elaborate, lengthy songs are not for those suffering from attention deficit disorder. The record requires some attentive listening before the story begins to unfold.
The LP is a byproduct of discouraged musicians dissatisfied with their sound. The Fiery Furnaces were frustrated to be an opening band no one paid to see, and worse, they were frustrated with their crop of songs. Drastic times call for risks, and given their low profile, they could afford to take them.
These risks, clearly, paid off. And in a music climate where everyone with access to a cool record store or broadband connection equipped with Soulseek are listening to (and then recreating) the same old records, the Fiery Furnaces have achieved the impossible. They've made pop music interesting again.
