Since forming late in 2012, Chicago’s Crown Larks have busied themselves honing a combination of punkish psychedelic grit, non-grandiose prog/art-rock flourishes, and significant borrowings from the fount of jazz. It’s a heavy, jamming, ambitious stew, and they are currently on the road with a full-length debut under their collective belt. Blood Dancer features seven selections that should attract the interest of folks providing shelf space to electric-period Miles, Soft Machine, and post-punk’s experimental wing; it’s out now on LP/CD/digital through Spacelung / Landbreathing, and for those fancying a cassette, one can be obtained through Already Dead Tapes.
Upon first encountering the name Crown Larks, my mind instantly conjured up an image of a garage band, specifically the kind wearing matching, tight-fitting suits as their frontman very likely brandishes a wooden painted maraca. Once heard however, I was just as rapidly confronted by my initial vision being completely off-target.
Unsurprisingly, the blend of psych, prog, punk, and jazz Crown Larks offer doesn’t easily fall into one sonic camp, which makes describing their sound a little complicated. But the difficulty in categorization doesn’t carry-over to the listening; accurately, Crown Larks dish out raucous, expansionist rock drawing from a wide range of precedent while connecting to the nonce; headbands and patchouli can be envisioned, but there is a tangible correlation to indie happenings, notably in the vocals of Jack Bouboushian and the electric piano of Lorraine Bailey.
For Blood Dancer, Bouboushian is additionally credited with guitar, bass, pedals, and sleep machine. Bailey adds vocals, organ, clarinet, and synths, and Bill Miller is anchored to the drum chair. They comprise the core of Crown Larks, at least for this LP, though it also includes trumpet and flugelhorn from Peter Gillette, the saxophone and flute of Kevin Ohlau, and on two cuts sax and piano courtesy Chris Boonenberg.
Crown Larks’ ball got rolling in 2013 with the CD EP “Catalytic Conversions,” its first four songs flowing together to represent a suite of sorts and aiding the disc’s 25 minutes in establishing spontaneity as a virtue. It’s not hard to imagine them tearing the house down when fully clicking in a live context, though if comfortable with impulse they aren’t totally improvisatory in nature.
Indeed, song structure is a crucial component, “Catalytic Conversions” having drawn a comparison to Thee Oh Sees. It’s a fair assessment, though Crown Larks frankly possess a different relationship with melody. The EP was a solid introductory statement, but the group is better suited for the long form, Blood Dancer’s 39 minutes emphasizing a tendency to extend without going overboard.
As might be deduced from the number of entries on their latest, stretching-out is a quality observable on a track-by-track basis; with one exception, everything tallies nearly five minutes or more. So it is with opener “Gambian Blue Wave,” low-toned cyclical piano setting a rumbling, somewhat industrial rhythm as Gillette’s trumpet contributes to an atmosphere of nervous tension.
Quickly, there is a jump-cut, Miller springing to life and lending a touch of math-rock to the environment as Gillette continues to blow. As the unflustered, slightly drowsy voice of Bouboushian enters, the contemporaneousness of Crown Larks’ endeavor is set. If jamming is revealed to be integral, Blood Dancer eschews throwing back.
And after a brief plateau, “Gambian Blue Wave” slows to a robust throb and is accented by the increasingly obvious instrumental dexterity of everyone involved. The forlornness of the valve persists and the intensity rises as deft studio enhancements, e.g. Bouboushian’s multi-tracked singing, broaden the scope.
Following is the LP’s shortest piece and the only one aptly pegged as succinct, “The Timebound Bloos” barely exceeding three minutes. Full of shifting tempos, note splatter, string clamor, and a brawny mid-section showcase by Miller, the cut explores the place where non-noodlesome prog intersects tough-minded jazz fusion.
So if one digs the first batch of Mahavishnu Orchestra albums, it would stand to reason that one would dig this too. By contrast, “Blood Mirage” initially examines a pretty straightforward down-tempo rock zone; loaded with guitar burn and hints of Boonenberg’s sax, it lands close to territory covered by the disciples of Crazy Horse.
But the pace soon quickens as Bailey whips off an organ excursion liable to bring a grin to faces favoring Ray Manzerek and the young Steve Winwood. Alongside some vocal freak-out, copious reed chewing (it’s evident Boonenberg has chops as well as lungs), and impressive rhythmic prowess, they cook until reaching a boil, “Blood Mirage” then swiftly fading to its finale.
It’s during “Fog, Doves” that a jazz orientation gets highlighted in highly and surprisingly rewarding fashion. To elaborate, whenever rockers cast a glance jazzward, cringe-worthy moments are to be expected. But in a nice twist, Crown Larks reveal an understanding of the Windy City’s notions of ensemble interaction rather than simply the post-bop-derived head-solos-head model, which when interpreted by rockers almost always succumbs to machismo.
Credit Bailey, whose voice on “Fog, Doves” is a treat, to say nothing of her electric piano, here occasionally reminiscent of that jazz staple the vibraphone. But also salute Miller, his drumming loose, abstract, and legitimately jazzy. Gillette and Ohlau’s infrequent darts of horn ice a cake that if still undeniably rock can be hyphenated with jazz without condition.
Another dose of meaty mid-tempo prog opens side two, “Defector” finding Miller laying down a non-rudimentary yet gradually infectious rhythm peppered with Ohlau’s gusts of sax, Bailey’s bell-like keyboard tones, Bouboushian’s progressively more impassioned singing, and a concise flurry of his fuzzed guitar wrangling.
In “Chapels” Crown Larks revisit a fairly standard rock climate, at least until momentarily redirecting into spirited and cerebral electric piano-led boogie. Once climax is attained they return to the opening framework and without telegraphing their moves. This saves the record’s lengthiest track for last, “Overgrown” beginning with a spare, off-center mingling of strum and strung-out vocalizing actually bringing Jandek to mind.
Edgy psych ambiance arises and things start taking shape, the mood further amplified via Ohlau’s flute as Bouboushian unwinds some of his strongest guitar playing. What’s especially striking is Crown Larks’ avoidance of overshooting the goal in the attempt for a “big finish.” Never victimized by gratuitous form-moves, individual and group adroitness is on display throughout Blood Dancer. Sidestepping hand-me-down tropes, rarely has a full-length debut arrived so resistant to directly taggable influences, and for that matter been so refreshing.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A-
