Skywriting, which is available April 8 on vinyl and compact disc through ORG Music, is the seventh studio album from singer-songwriter and guitarist Zachary Cale. That’s a lot of experience, and fortunately it hasn’t hardened the man or adversely affected his music, which is bold on his latest with the help of astute full-band backing, and yet supple in accord with the artist’s emotionally invested yet unruffled approach. The album’s nine selections roll forth with broad stylistic reach hitting the spot between urgency and the contemplative, ultimately cohering into a highly satisfying LP.
“Miles Ahead, Miles Behind” opens Skywriting with an unperturbed strum that situates the album as extending from Zachary Cale’s prior work as it fits into the long tradition of the folky singer-songwriter, but that’s really just the tip of the iceberg, or better said, that strum is the constant thread around which a whole lot of sharp full-band action unwinds, including the crisp rhythm section of James Preston and Ethan Schmid, the additional guitar of Phil Jacob, and the organ of Robert Boston.
You might be thinking, “ah, ‘tis a rootsy thing Cale is pursuing,” but that’s not really accurate. For instance, the next cut “Cursed Spot” opens with an electric guitar line that wouldn’t be out of place in a late ’70s power pop number, but then the track downshifts into a more leisurely melodic-rock gear harkening back to the same era while keeping a loose grip on the whole singer-songwriter shebang. Near the end, that opening guitar line returns to underscore the overall smarts of the song’s construction.
Cale is deft at building something fresh from long established components, and it helps that he sings like a wizened troubadour sporting a thrift store blazer and a scarf. “If I Knew the Name” extends the general laid back ambiance of “Cursed Spot” but with a sturdy rhythmic foundation, snaky guitar tendrils, and even a little synthesizer.
But Skywriting avoids getting stuck in a ’70s frame of mind. “Come On Easy” has an understated neo-noirish (I emphasize the neo) feel that reminds me of the late ’80s (an association aided by more of that synth, perhaps), like it’s providing the soundtrack to treacherous actions transpiring in some worn-down Midwestern berg. The harmony vocals of Alfra Martini are a nice touch.
The guitar in “Sandcastles” is a bit reminiscent of Neil Young (maybe the closest Skywriting gets to the outright rootsy), but the singing is a blend of Dylan and Dan Behar (blazers and scarves, again). But then “Spirit Drive” blends indie folk and the atmospheric to achieve a hazy Sunday summer morning coming down kind of feel, flowing quite nicely into “Green Screen,” which returns to the late ’70s energies of “Cursed Spot.” It’s smart but not overly sophisto, and sincere, with nary a trace of irony.
“Bigger Picture” pulls off a similar trick, starting out as a non-frills strummer and then metamorphizing into the record’s biggest hunk of urbane pop action, complete with lyrical nods to Brian Wilson and good ol’ Jack Lee (of The Nerves, don’tcha know). It wholeheartedly embraces an aesthetic that some might find off-putting, but I dig Cale’s desire to branch out, and the bottom line is his songs are solid and he sings them with a sleepy-lidded relish.
After all this range, “Page by Page” closes Skywriting in relatively straightforward fashion, but with a noted Elvis Costello chorus line turned into an opening verse and a Phil Spector-ish rhythmic motif dropped in for good measure. The song makes plain that Zachary Cale still enjoys making music, and seven albums deep, that’s no small thing.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A-
