The new LP from Wooden Wand is titled Farmer’s Corner, and it took an unusual developmental journey; rather than employ the standard uninterrupted recording engagement with the same personnel, James Jackson Toth made the album over six sessions in four studios in three states, documenting his songs shortly after writing them. It’s an alternative worth noting, though the results aren’t radically different from the majority of Toth’s recent output; Farmer’s Corner is a wide-ranging yet cohesive release from a guy with a substantial and consistent body of work to his credit.
He’s still busier than the average guitar-slinging singer-songwriter, but over the last few years James Jackson Toth’s whirlwind of musical activity under the performance moniker Wooden Wand has definitely slowed a bit. He’s roughly averaged a full-length a year since Briarwood, his 2011 masterpiece with the Briarwood Virgins, came out via Fire Records.
In ’12 there was Blood Oaths of the New Blues, which utilized the same group from Briarwood to solid if lesser effect, though Toth was clearly disinterested in repeating the specifics of its predecessor. Then last year Three Lobed Recordings brought a self-titled effort from Wooden Wand & the World War IV; it rocked heavily and loose with psych aspects familiar from Toth’s early association with the Vanishing Voice.
No doubt 2014’s entry Farmer’s Corner isn’t the first time a musician has chosen to cut an LP more or less on the fly, capturing tracks as they come together in distinct locations with assorted contributors, but it is atypical enough that the change in tactics deserves mention. And in addition to the departure from long-established recording methods it’s also the first self-produced Wooden Wand album.
Toth set himself up for success; the circumstances of construction might be different, but he wisely gathered a tight circle of recurring players. There’s electric bassist Darin Gray, a vet of Dazzling Killmen, Grand Ulena, On Fillmore, and Jim O’Rourke, plus two guitarists: Toth’s fellow Lexington, KY resident Doc Feldman and the top-notch William Tyler, a crucial member of Lambchop, vital assistant to the Silver Jews and recently a solo artist of distinction. With a host of other players, they work toward establishing a unified sound across Toth’s increasingly broad songwriting palate.
“Alpha Dawn”’s prelude of gentle feedback quickly segues into an ample hunk of Neil Young-styled country-rock offering plucked banjo, snaky guitar lines and large, round bass notes. It’s indeed suggestive of early-‘70s California, but unlike Young’s potentially divisive vocalizing, Toth’s singing idles at the intersection of smooth and inviting, and those who prefer a rougher-edged manifestation of this particular genre hybrid just might find the general pleasantness of Wooden Wand’s atmosphere a tad underwhelming, at least initially.
As it nears conclusion however, those strains of non-clamorous amp noise (perhaps extraterrestrial given the subject matter touched upon in the lyrics) get briefly and subtly reasserted, and “Alpha Dawn” delivers a strong if tidy opener. Next is the exquisite slow glide of “Uneasy Peace,” one of Farmer’s Corner’s standout tracks, as Toth and company merge the country-rock with welcome psychedelic touches. Along the way they manage to momentarily hint at the grandeur of Oar, Skip Spence’s left-field masterwork from ’69.
I’ll stress that “Uneasy Peace” doesn’t rise to the rare level of greatness that’s found throughout Oar, mainly because it resists extending and really taking flight. The track does add weight to a set reinforcing Toth’s late maneuvers in populist songwriting and delivery, gestures that if non-contrived are surely imbued with increased accessibility. But even in its relative succinctness, the considerable musical environment of “Uneasy Peace” does possess flashes of inspiration similar to Spence’s classic, with the adroit use of Josh Hamlett’s upright bass being representative of the whole.
Furthermore, the song exudes tension that truly lives up to its title. And when the mood strikes, Toth isn’t the slightest bit averse to stretching out. Thankfully, that’s fairly often here; “When the Trail Goes Cold” finds him retaining the previous cut’s psych aura, with his surging electric guitar leads plainly descended from the outbound climes of late-‘60s San Francisco as he blends in elements of sturdy progressive folk.
Impressive is how Toth and cohorts avoid the paleness of pastiche to naturally inhabit these tricky styles. Additionally, the duration of “When the Trail Goes Cold” assists in highlighting the deftness of the enlisted talent, particularly the supple heft of Gray’s bass, his confident but non-show-offy execution conjuring sweet thoughts of the frequent achievements of numerous session aces from the recording industry’s heyday.
Many of that era’s unabashedly album-oriented artists still occasionally loaded their long-players with a radio-friendly single or two, and that’s kinda how “Adie” sits in relation to Farmer’s Corner. Up to this point it’s easily the catchiest number on the disc, and it also sports unusually worthwhile lyrics, with Toth’s sure-handed approach to production likely to get an approving nod from Lenny Waronker. While it’s tempting to chalk up the acidic guitar solo placed in the middle of “Adie” as beyond the major label norms for a single issued at the dawn of the ‘70s, there’s also “Cinnamon Girl” to consider.
From there, “Dambuilding” is an unruffled, largely acoustic ride through a slower tempo. As it unwinds, Luke Schneider’s pedal steel joins up with Kyle Hamlett’s banjo to bring a measure of rural ambiance (i.e. folk flavor) to the table. But under the surface “Dambuilding” underlines a mild similarity to the outfit Low, with this comparison previously established on Blood Oath of the New Blues’ opener “No Bed for Beatle Wand/Days This Long.”
“Dambuilding” crawls up on six minutes in length, and the following track “Sinking Feeling” exceeds five, though the latter’s crisp hootenanny strumming mingles with the ever-assured accompaniment to present the LP with yet another wrinkle; if much of Farmer’s Corner flirts with Americana, “Sinking Feeling” jumps into that stylistic bag with both feet.
As stated, all of this variation proves to be non-disruptive. The story of the album’s evolution is certainly useful as background information significantly deepening a perspective on the whole, but the outcome of Toth’s fits-and-starts mode of operation basically expresses a persistently healthy musical range on his part.
With this said I do miss the disc’s earlier forays into the waters of psychedelia, though the quality of “Home Horizon” is enough to make me temporarily forget. It essentially gives a nice dish of indie songwriting (sped up and rocked out, it could be Superchunk at their most anthemic, especially the achy emotionalism of the chorus) a total immersion in Twang, so pedal steel junkies please take note.
“Port of Call” heads back into psych territory, but does so in moderately eclectic fashion. Fire’s promo material cites Little Feat, and here the resemblance rings out loud and clear, though it frankly sounds like a hypothetical version of the band that sprang up in late-‘60s San Fran with a desire for expansionist rock. Fittingly, closer “Gone to Stay” ties up the album’s diversity into a fully-formed package. At moments it casually recalls the Grateful Dead.
The best comes early on Farmer’s Corner, though the LP also ends strong; in a nutshell, the goodness rises in relation to the psychedelic. Toth’s a fine country-rocker, but that’s a style bordering on the commonplace these days. Top-flight contempo psych is a much rarer bird, and luckily there’s enough of it on display here that Wooden Wand chalks up another worthy showing.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
B+
