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believe it or not, this record is less than 10 years old

This record, I admit, is not part of the collection of records that I’ve set out to listen to. However, it was recently given to me, so I thought I’d do an entry on it since it’s relatively new to me. That said, I’m pretty familiar with The Autumn Defense, or at least the two principal members’, Pat Sansone and John Stirratt, other projects–notably Wilco, but also The Gimmecaps (Stirratt) and Birdy (Sansone). That said, Circles doesn’t really sound much like any of those bands. To me, it sounds closest to Birdy’s On The Moon, but probably just because of the atmospheric and/or baroque arrangements I think both records have in common. In any case, The Autumn Defense is clearly a side project for a reason. With good reason.

Circles, at times, sounds like Sansone and Stirratt have set out to record their own version of a 70′s soft rock album. While these aren’t the types of records I immediately reach for, I definitely find myself sitting down with them often enough to say I’m a fan of the good ones. So a 70′s soft record released in 2003 by two guys I already like–sign me up.

The songs are mellow and sound carefully crafted, maybe I should say arranged, in a way that makes you want to hear them on your back porch while the sun’s going down behind some leafless trees. (End poetics.) The songs are accessible, without always being catchy, with the kinds of melodies that you’ll remember the second time you hear the song–or possibly even halfway through the first listen. (The vocals, both Sitrratt’s and Sansone’s, are often the shoulders that the songs are carried on. And the lyrics. Neither Sansone nor Stirratt are known for their vocal stylings, but here they make sense in that both their voices are subtle and reinforce the hushed tone of the record.)

Back to the songs. The standouts are “Written In The Snow,” “Some Kind Of Fool,” and “Silence.”  Sansone’s “Silence” opens the record with a swirly, reverby sound that sets up the entire record pretty well. It reminds me, more than anything, of On The Moon (which if you can get ahold of, you should). It’s melodic in a way that some of the previous Box of Vinyl entries try to be, but it’s still interesting enough that it doesn’t sound like it follows the basic pop standard song structure. Stirratt’s “Written In The Snow” seems like a clear descendant of something from the Gimmecaps’ record but without electric guitars. And with more reverb-ed piano. It’s got the type of catchy chorus that would have made this a potential radio hit in the 70′s, I think. The lines “I would die, if I thought anyone would hurt you/Yes and I would cry, if I thought anyone could do something like that” might read a little cliche or purple, but Stirratt delivers them in an understated way that’s lost on so many singers that it makes you wonder why everyone’s on about the vocal acrobatics (masturbatory showings off) that seem to be a pre-req for radio hits.

So even though I feel a little like I cheated by including this record in the project, I’m glad I did. If nothing else, it’ll be an enjoyable record to put back on between the other 3 Emerson, Lake, and Palmer records I’ll have to review sometime soon. I should be objective, but, fuck it, I’m not looking forward to those. On a more positive note, Circles is easy listening. Easy listening in a good way. It’s a record that can please passive listeners while still rewarding those with a more attentive ear. I recommend it.

Buy it here.

Will I listen to it again? Sure. Especially when the day’s going dark and I want to sit outside with a big beer and take it easy.

Next up: The Doors-Waiting For The Sun

Then: The Who-The Kids Are Alright (OST)

First up, Carly Simon’s 1972 record No Secrets.

this is not Joni Mitchell

Prior to listening to this record, all I knew of Carly Simon was “You’re So Vain,” which is on this record, and everyone knows it, and “Anticipation,” not on this record,  which I knew because J Mascis covered it on his rarely cited acoustic record Martin & Me (which is a great record that I let someone borrow and never got back. Shit–different story).

No Secrets is a record that sounds indecisive as to whether it’s soft-rockin and a little pissed  (“You’re So Vain” and “(We Have) No Secrets”), loose with melodies that are winding but not totally inaccessible (“The Carter Family” and “His Friends Are More Than Fond Of Robin”), or country-tinged and subversively feminist (“Waited So Long” and “It Was So Easy”). To me, soft-rockin and pissed works best for the record.

“You’re So Vain,” “(We Have) No Secrets,” and arguably “The Right Thing To Do” are the strong points that show Simon’s ability to put together a well-written, catchy, and specific but relatable pop song. Each of these songs has a little bit of earned meaness, mixed with the implication that whatever got fucked up can be worked out, that makes good hit pop songs. Since there’s probably little original to say about it, I’ll forego the discussion of “You’re So Vain,”  but “(We Have) No Secrets” exemplifies this description just as well except that the relationship in question isn’t over, which makes the song that much more realistic and relatable–and isn’t that what good pop songs are good at? These three strongest songs are all, it should be noted, credited solely to Simon. Three of the ten songs are co-written by Simon.

So the record has its faults, notably “The Carter Family,”  ”His Friends Are More Than Fond Of Robin,” and “Night Owl.” “Night Owl” was written by James Taylor, who I’m no fan of at all, and has Simon proclaim to be a night-life person who can’t be bothered to wake up during the daytime. Whether she, or Taylor, were big enough night owls intent on raising hell and then singing about it in vague animal metaphors to warrant the song’s existence, I don’t know. But I do know I don’t have to buy it. Neither do you. The song is pretty shitty.

Aside from the other winding, melodically constipated poor man’s Joni Mitchell songs, I enjoyed the record. It’s harmless, mostly innocent, early 70′s easy listening that reminds you of riding in your mom’s, or dad’s, car on the way to dinner at a shitty family restaurant. There’s something to be said for vaguely recognizable nostalgia.

Will I listen to it again? You’re So Vain, No Secrets–yes. The rest, only by accident.

Next up: Emerson, Lake, & Palmer-Self-Titled

Then: Michael McDonald-If That’s What It Takes