Distinguished for co-founding Throwing Muses, Kristin Hersh’s 21st century musical thrust has been dominated by the trio 50FootWave, and even more so her increased solo activity; six of the ten albums released under her own name have emerged post-2000. Recurring and ambitious, as Hersh’s prior set presented what seemed a hard act to follow. Rather than fall victim to the pitfalls of the repetitive (or the willful avoidance thereof), the noted self-multi-tracker just rounded up some frequent playing partners (including her son Wyatt) and tore into ten fresh ones. If it lacks the breadth and heft of her last, Possible Dust Clouds is tidy, tough and strong, and it’s out now through Fire Records.
Kristin Hersh’s previous full-length, 2016’s Wyatt at the Coyote Palace, combined two CDs with a hardback book featuring lyrics, notes, essays, and photographs (released through the music-related book publisher Omnibus Press), though a standalone 2LP version came out the following year (offered by Athens, GA’s Happy Happy Birthday to Me). In either iteration it connected as a major career statement. What it wasn’t was any kind of return to form.
It wasn’t even Hersh’s first music-book combo; that would be Crooked from 2010 (and regarding standalone tomes, she has more than a couple). Wyatt at the Coyote Palace did shape up as a highly personal statement that cemented the artist’s creative longevity as both remarkably consistent and persistently urgent (scenarios that have proved elusive for a significant portion of her Alternative-era contemporaries). And after time spent, it additionally registered as a hard act to follow.
The success of Possible Dust Clouds comes through adjustments in scale and delivery that are no stretch for Hersh. Therefore, they feel natural. Specifically, there’s a focus on a smaller trad-album length batch of songs, something she’s done more often than not in Throwing Muses and 50FootWave, as she opens up the recording process to additional players, an operating procedure (it should go without saying) of which she’s no stranger, though Hersh was in fact the only contributing musician on Crooked and Wyatt at the Coyote Palace.
Hersh’s choice of invitees surely helped to solidify the set; there are bassists Chris Brady (of ’90s Portland, OR band Pond) and Fred Abong (a former member of Throwing Muses), and drummers Rob Ahlers (of 50FootWave), David Narcizo (a frequent Hersh cohort in Throwing Muses and on earlier solo stuff), and her son Wyatt True O’Connell. Ahlers engineered, while Steve Rizzo returned to co-produce and help mix the record with Hersh.
In terms of interaction, right from the start there are no traces of rust or tentativeness on Hersh’s part as she handles all the guitar and lead vocals and also adds bass and drums of her own. “LAX” bursts forth with a steady gallop, distorted yet tuneful. It and the following cut “No Shade in Shadow” establish a thick bottom end while the latter ups the melodiousness and the rippling reverb at once. This second facet extends to her layered, slightly “Crimson and Clover”-esque (more Joan Jett than Tommy James) backing vocals.
“Halfway Home” scales things back through crisp strum and the appealingly weathered edge of Hersh’s singing, though it takes less than a minute for the track to reassert the muscularity of what came before. It secures Possible Dust Clouds’ dominant mode (the song’s coda of guitar and strings is a nice unexpected twist). “Fox Point” unfolds as a variation, beginning again with just Hersh, before another, tougher guitar line emerges, and the band enters to lay it on thick and heavy.
“Lethe” varies the landscape a bit, becoming almost sprightly as it unwinds, though cohesiveness is achieved through a full-band template (the bass in particular maintains ties to heaviness). But the record’s biggest thematic bond is Hersh’s words, which (unsurprisingly given her publishing history) stand amongst the small percentage of song lyrics that don’t suffer when read as printed. If personal, the poetic quality of her words, not inscrutable but not overly easy to glean either, remains refreshing, though emblematic of the times it’s not hard to guess what (or better said, who) “Loud Mouth” is about.
“Gin” is even more illustrative of Hersh’s lyrical touch. While some rockers with a poetic inclination are seduced by post-Beat word gush, few can do it well. Hersh doesn’t do it at all. On the lyric sheet, “Gin” is tightly constructed, its eight lines reminiscent of a poem one might stumble upon (and be delighted by) in a small press literary journal, and it holds a rhyme scheme that’s subtle enough for the page while working perfectly as sung.
But all this lyrical strength and consistency is matched by musicianship that never falters across a duration that as said recalls the classic album era. There are no weak songs here; not “Tulum” with its rousing solo and late-song gear-shift, nor “Breathe In” with its sustained waves of amp grease (and their momentary drop out as the rhythm section churns on).
However, folks chalking up this set as merely a Throwing Muses album under Hersh’s name should nix that assumption; band energy is undeniably present, but (for one example) the number of players highlights this record as a beneficial revamp of Hersh’s recent mode of operation. Fittingly right on time, closer “Lady Godiva” begins in a folkish zone (accented by feedback) that somewhat recalls her ’90s solo stuff. With the exception of a couple rhythmic interjections, it remains there.
Overall, Possible Dust Clouds reinforces that Kristin Hersh is not just persevering in the now but flourishing as she makes some of the finest music of her career.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A-
