Hollow

Albumbeschreibung

For 30 years, the Handsome Family—married couple Brett and Rennie Sparks—have specialized in country-gothic, a style of Americana full of wrath and humor and empathy about the bleak side of the human (and animal) condition. On their 11th album, the two, along with their full band, lead off with "Joseph," its chilling lyrics and musical balm inspired by a nightmare Rennie had. "One night around 4 a.m. Rennie started screaming in her sleep. She screamed, 'Come into the circle Joseph! There's no moon tonight,'" Brett has said. "Scary as it was, I thought, man, that's a good chorus!" Indeed, the two never shy away from the dark. Funereal hymn "Mothballs" was inspired by a Buddhist who "refused to harm even the tiniest wool moth, and I think that's something we should all aspire to," according to Rennie. "When the moths eat your beautiful coat/ Go to terrible places/ Feel your heart with fear/ Beckon the screaming demons/ Lie down with starving bears," Brett sings, his voice deep as a well. "Let the moths fly away with your coat." Nature, in both its beauty and conquering predation, is a star here. "The Oldest Water," a Carter Family-style country treat burnished with dobro and tremulous mandolin, tells the real story of a primordial sea found beneath a mine, and '50s dreamy "Shady Lake" is about an idyllic fishing hole outside Albuquerque, the couple's home. Brett becomes a gothic Thoreau as he sings of seeing blue turtles swim from the green mossy shore. Peaceful but not placid "Strawberry Moon" shimmers with vibraphone as Brett sings poetry by Rennie about nothing more than being in their own yard: "The night we saw all those raccoons/ Crossing the yard just starting to bloom/ Right past the porch where we sat in our chairs." And playful "Skunks" goofs as an ad for a wild and weird business that is combo pest control, sandwich bar, dog-walking service and rental car agency. "The King of Everything" adopts an XTC-like chamber pop vibe, complete with harpsichord, and "Invisible Man" models some fine tent-revival gospel. "Two Black Shoes" is a heartbreaker, detailing the desolate transience of a motel ("No one's in the swimming pool") as well as the unsafe haven of an underpass, with banjoist Rennie's voice a lilting shadow behind Brett's stoic baritone. It all concludes with "Good Night," a funny little lullabye queasy with pedal steel and glockenspiel, that is no cute Goodnight Moon:  "It's time for the rats to abandon the ship/ Time for the billionaires to board their jet/ It's time to say good night." © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz