I have never been much of a bath person. I always found it kind of gross and would immediately shower after. Sure it was because I usually peed in the tub but so what. The point is the whole shit is gross.
Yet when I listen to Jim Clements' stellar new album The Road to Anhedonia; I want to bath in its warm gooey goodness for hours at a time. It's some Calgon shit for my ears. It every song takes me away to a place that is nothing but beauty and comfort. This British sack of blood sausages knows how to write a song bro.
The Road to Anhedonia flawlessly jumps between the kind of folky sounds that make you want to pull out your fall sweaters while drinking a dark heavy beer and the kind of indie pop that Cameron Crowe would get all hard and rubbery for. It is a masterful balancing act that never slips up once.
Right off the bat "Four Leaf Clover" just sort of gallops around in some green fields sounding like an Irish girl with one of them white cable knit sweaters those sexy pale and ginger freaks love to wear as underwear. Right when you are all falling in love Because the sunlight is hitting the meadow just right this bastard takes you down south with "I'm Out of Here", a slow and soulful burner that brings up visions of former Texas High School QBs a year or two out of high school and still cleaning up on that Friday Night Lights ass. Kind of sad, kind of sexy.
Chances are Jim Clements has no idea what Friday Night Lights is but Fuck him because I have no idea what The Road to Anhedonia is but that doesn’t stop me from understanding that the title track would fit seamlessly on Workingman's Dead which is about as high of a complement as I can offer to a foreigner; even if he hails from our closest ally.
All throughout The Road to Anhedonia Jim Clements works you and you emotions. He does this thing on all of the hooks where he harmonizes with some gal, a gal who I have no idea what her name is, but Fuck it massages my soul to full releases. Their voices work so perfectly together it almost makes me want to call Joel and tell him that despite his feelings about Chicago pizza we can still be friends. Almost bro, only almost.
When I throw in songs like "Rings", "Stonier Ground" and "All I Ask" and I can almost smell the wood burning in the fire place in some rustic ass lodge and I just want to wrap myself up in blankets and play my favorite game "hey let's wrassle in our underclothes" with my lady friend. The shit is so down home. It almost sounds the way the Cracker Barrel lobby smells. You know. Like heaven.
Then there is "The Whitest Shoes". HOLY fucking shit this song is so fucking killer. Slow and sensual oozing with pent up desire before swinging into a chorus that is perfect for slow dancing groin to groin to. It feels like the backing track for one of those scenes in a PG movie were couple is finally going to get together but they can't really show shit. Well the smart director would throw this fucker over it just to let the audience know that once the scene fades and we can no longer see what's going on, these people on camera are going to have an epic and sweaty Fuck sesh. It's gonna be gooey bro.
The Road to Anhedonia is pretty much the perfect autumn album and Jim Clements is an amazing asshole that I just want to hug and say thank you to for making something so god damn beautiful.
P fucking S: The guitar at the end of "Downtown Epilogue"? Are you fucking serious? Holy shit it gives me goose bumps every time.