HARPOON

Larkin Grimm’s music is exceedingly difficult to get into, and even when (and if) you do, she can be maddeningly inconsistent and unpredictable. The unpredictable part if okay if you are truly a fan of that aspect of progressive music that actually experiments and builds on previous musical and artistic ideas and attempts to fashion something new; Grimm does that in spades, even if the attempts fall flat at times (nothing ventured,…).

But the inconsistent part I think comes from being a bit self-indulgent at times, which again is something that certainly isn’t novel where most true artists and musicians are concerned. On her first album, Grimm gives us a glimpse of both her creative process and her sometimes haphazard artistic tendencies with a series of musical vignettes that often come off feeling like half-finished thoughts, while occasionally coalescing into a relatively cohesive composition that stands on its own.

Grimm’s sound is characterized by decidedly pagan and earthy vocals that are seemingly oblivious to the concepts of melody, rhythm and sometimes even pitch. She is the quintessential musical shaman who weaves chanting, wraithlike shrieks and even guttural sonic blurbs into arrangements that often evoke moody and primitive emotions. “Pigeon Food” is the representative offering on this debut release; brief, eerie and rather primordial in its acoustic, chaotic delivery, Grimm rambles on about – what? Sustenance? Love, relationships, survival? Not sure really, and I don’t suppose it matters; the evocative sounds form their own structure and present more as art than music, which I suspect is what Grimm is all about anyway.

This is a remarkably uneven album, even though most of the songs are similar in terms of composition and sound. Grimm’s words are mostly her own, in that their ultimate meaning (if any) is lost on all but her and presumably her more initiated acquaintances and fans; on “One Hundred Men” she croons “I don’t want to love you; I want to love again and again”. Really? With whom? Is this the confession of a wanton woman or something else altogether? Whatever; the moody strands of acoustic guitar are soothing in a mildly uncomfortable way regardless.

Grimm shows an ever-so-mild thread of earthy, pagan spirituality on this album that will surface even more on her follow-up ‘The Last Tree’, particularly on the creepy “Harpoon Baptism” with its native chanting and witchlike shrieking laughter setting the tone amid otherwise soothing acoustic instrumentation. She then moves effortlessly into the role of storytelling singer-songwriter with the brief confessional “I Killed Someone” and the dusk-embracing “Don’t Come Down, Darkness”; then wanders off into wyrd-folk territory with “Touch Me, Shaping Hands” before shifting to what is probably the most accessible track on the album (relatively-speaking) in “White Water”, and slow, almost dispassionate guitar noodling experiment that peters itself out to close the album.

Larkin’s next two albums show considerable forward-movement in terms of cohesive arrangement, musical discipline and meaningful lyrical composition. This first effort is clearly a sketchbook in which she has jotted down numerous musical ideas and indulged herself in working them out with varying degrees of success. The result will probably be seen by most as either prohibitively inaccessible or nothing more than a tepid sampler of her music. For the most part I agree. But for those who find themselves attracted to her later music, I’d recommend this as a record to discover once you’ve absorbed her more mature works, for the insight into her creative process if for no other reason. Two stars and recommended primarily to serious fans of Grimm’s work.

peace