Cass McCombs - Wit's End

It’s hard to think of an American songwriter working with a back catalogue of greater quality and a profile kept as deliberately low as Cass McCombs’. Exploring the underbelly of the US psyche as much as his own, over four inimitable albums McCombs has combined oblique lyrics with a musically minimalist aesthetic, gesturing as much towards the country fixtures of AM radio as the aloof poise of Leonard Cohen, in songs as finely wrought as they are unique.

With Wit’s End, McCombs has shifted away from the down-to-earth tenderness that marked 2009’s Catacombs, instead plumbing dark inner spaces and unconfronted fears, the kind that lurk beneath even the most convincing outer show of happiness. Opener ‘County Line’ sets the tone, a warmly nostalgic refrain that recalls the Twin Peaks theme, suggesting fallen expectations and romantic desolation, delivered in Cass’ shiver-inducing high register. Upbeat it ain’t, this cowed melancholy finding its natural extension in the claustrophobic intimacy of ‘Buried Alive’ or the despair of ‘Saturday Song’.

There’s a stillness at the heart of the songs here, a static sense of gradually emergent revelation. The harmonic simplicity of tracks such as ‘The Lonely Doll’ or album closer ‘A Knock Upon The Door’ (which features the same looped riff for nine minutes) is offset by the precision and variety of their arrangements, the instrumentation providing the base which McCombs’ meandering, elusive thoughts sweetly sail over – or return to, as with the bass clarinet-led soft-sell climax of album highlight ‘Memory’s Stain’, into which his seductive voice dissolves.

Wit’s End is alive with the still-questing spirit of a fella whose songs seem to say all that he feels needs be said.


First published in The Brag, Iss. 411, May 9th 2011