It’s been a couple of years since guitarist Cian Nugent joined forces with the Cosmos to release Born with the Caul. That truly striking LP surveyed a major progression into edgy ballroom-style psych regions from a guy previously known as a fingerpicker in the post-John Fahey tradition, and in early 2016 Nugent returns but with a newfound tendency toward the realms of the singer-songwriter. The results aren’t as brilliant and seamless as his prior effort, but Night Fiction is still a winner, considerably widening its maker’s range; it’s out January 29 on vinyl and digital through Woodsist.
Though initially noted as an exponent of the American Primitive guitar school, Cian Nugent’s status as a natural-born Irishman, indeed a Dubliner, deepened the scenario more than a little. His album Doubles came out in 2011 on the small Virginia-based label VHF; it featured a pair of instrumentals, both over 20 minutes long, and while it wasn’t difficult to peg Fahey as Nugent’s main point of reference, his playing was at times spectacular (basically an American Primitive prerequisite) as horn arrangements and elements of drone carried him beyond the style’s norms.
Nugent’s next long-player found him in the company of a full-fledged band, the Cosmos helping to elevate Born with the Caul to the plateau of 2013’s best releases. Launching from the fingerpicking sensibility of Doubles, the 3-song set unfurled a heavy psych disposition somewhat reminiscent of late ‘60s San Fran but with crucial threads of contemporary verve.
It also briefly offered vocals, a facet in far greater abundance across Night Fiction. And for his latest Nugent has essentially retained the core of the Cosmos, namely Conor Lumsden on bass, Brendan Jenkinson on organ and piano, David Lacey on drums, and Ailbhe Nic Oireachtaigh on viola; the latter two contributed to Doubles, so it’s clear the guitarist and now tune-slinger’s creative evolution benefits from a recurring cast of collaborators.
Night Fiction broadens Nugent’s pool of influences to positive effect, opener “Lost your Way” inspiring a few thoughts of Fred Neil but with a stronger rock flavor, particularly during the guitar solos. As on his earlier outings Nugent avoids a throwback aura, with “Lost your Way” exuding a fleeting likeness to the work of M Ward.
Undoubtedly a plunge into singer-songwriter territory, Night Fiction remains a winner from a purely musical angle and occasionally finds the band nearing the remarkable. They’re firing on full cylinders right out of the gate on “First Run,” and even as Nugent is revealed as a solid writer, it’s his playing that really propels this tune and much of the LP into the stratosphere.
Having established the record as a significant redirection, “Shadows” presents a further wrinkle, exploring an R&B/soul avenue to a warm if mildly unusual result. As horns emerge to solidify Nugent’s choice of genre he doesn’t recall his Irish predecessor Van Morrison but instead elects to examine a post-Aaron Neville/Harold Melvin zone suiting his capable but short of amazing voice pretty well.
Right at the moment where a prospective 45 version of “Shadows” would end, they commence a splendid slow-build instrumental extension nearly doubling the length. Certainly similar to the sort of R&B/soul alterations that were quite frequent in the late ‘60s-early ‘70s rock scene (admittedly, this is common ground with the precedent of Van), the cut’s most impressive quality might be that Nugent doesn’t louse things up by straining for emotional crescendos.
Likewise, nobody errs into overplaying; instrumental acumen is reserved for the gorgeous and pithy solo fingerpicking showcase of “Lucy,” a piece helping to corral the various angles in Nugent’s output as “Things Don’t Change that Fast” takes another unexpected turn, this time into near soft-rock environs. Key lyric: “I’m only in it for the weekend.”
But the guitar’s ultimately too earthy as Oireachtaigh’s viola adds a hint of strangeness to a whole that again brings M Ward to mind, though Nugent’s drawl is closer to Dan Behar. Even as it breaks five minutes “Things Don’t Change that Fast” lands on the accessible side of Night Fiction’s spectrum. The following selection heads in the opposite direction.
Comprised of only vocals and guitar, “Nightlife” marries the approach of “Shadows” to poetical late-night introspection; moving slightly faster than molasses, it could prove a sticking point for some listeners as the post-Dylan lyrical imagery and Behar-like thrust is just as likely to lend others their favorite track from the disc.
A lot of maneuvers into the singer-songwriter milieu are blunt attempts to secure a wider audience, and sometimes the gamble works out perfectly well. As underscored by “Nightlife” and the contemplative instrumental opening to the LP’s finale, Night Fiction is a more complex affair. “Year of the Snake” gradually increases in momentum, its sound exquisitely Velvets-like as the presence of viola reinforces images of handsome young John Cale. A touch of motorik and a dab of the aforementioned ballroom action are massaged in.
As the singing arrives and the group kicks into full melodic rock gear it’s not unlike some hypothetical stage activity from Max’s circa ’76, and combined with a hooky fervor suggesting a 45 of roughly the same vintage on Greg Shaw’s Bomp label. And as it stretches out Jenkinson and Oireachtaigh excel, the blend of psych and Velvets justifying the comparisons to Television.
In the end Night Fiction doesn’t embody a migration away from an instrumental foundation to a songic one; just as Born with the Caul mingled aspects of Doubles into an energetic psych-rock context, Nugent is simply adding further dimension to an already multifaceted personality. Not as successful as his last full-length, it’s still a worthy record enhanced by a lack of streamlining.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A-
