Glorytellers
Glorytellers
Southern, 2008
By Allana Mayer
I’ve always liked the way syllables just seem to bubble up out of singer/guitarist Geoff Farina, in his lilting balladeer style, with an easy grace. I’m always startled when things actually rhyme. With Glorytellers, his new vehicle for self-aggrandizement, there’s a clarity he never had before (in a seriously accomplished history, most notably in Karate). Rather than getting more weary and gravelly, as one would expect to correlate with the passage of time, the shouty, heartbroken element of his voice is gone. What effected that change — vocal lessons? Sobriety? Took up Buddhism? The rasp and not-quite-on-beat-ness were endearing, to be sure, but it somehow didn’t fit the music, and often lent itself to preciousness and cheese.
The difference between Karate’s best days and Gloryteller’s new formula is apparent: Farina has traded up his jazzy electrics for stark and minimal acoustics — which is good, because you get the feeling he was getting jealous of all the airtime those glitzy solo riffs were taking away from his too-cool voice. Karate’s uneasy truce between his opposing talents has tipped into a much more palatable balance.
Farina kind of sounds like an asshole, you know? He’s a know-it-all, not because he’s old and grizzled and has been through it, but because he was that cynical kid at the back of the class spouting off about existentialism while everyone else was doing quadratic equations. Luckily, he sublimated it into creativity, i.e. someone handed him a guitar and told him to go sit in the corner.
So, with all that postulation in mind, the album: opener “Camoflauge” is easy to digest, gorgeous, and lilting. “Anonymous” has the healthiest rhythm on the album, with an endless stream of words packed into just two and a half minutes. “Awake at the Wheel” has similar energy, but expresses it smoothly, almost seductively. Both “Blood on the Shine” and “Pry” display a gentle tenderness that echoes “With Age,” which is arguably Karate’s best song. The lesser hits dispersed between these highlights blend freely and make Glorytellers a breezy listening experience, one you’d stare out a window and pensively chew your pencil to. Sensitive without trying to break your heart, and gentle without mollycoddling, the balance is perfect this time around.
