Pitchfork

Singer/songwriters seem like a solitary bunch. Flying solo, these artists are thrust into the spotlight alone, where each lyric, song title, and liner note is assumed to be a window into the songwriter's life. On PREfection-- Cass McCombs's second album and first on 4AD-- the Baltimore songwriter welcomes this attention, feeling free enough not only to flash his emotions but to fictionalize them as well. From the song titles of "City of Brotherly Love" and "Tourist Woman" to the southern rockabilly of "Bury Mary" and Motown bounce of "Subtraction", McCombs sheds controlled amounts of light onto his travel diary-like life story. In the tradition of wandering American writers like Hemingway and Steinbeck, McCombs's goal is to weave fact and fiction, a goal he expresses with his own mantra: "I don't actually want my biography to contain much in the way of actual biographical information."

While McCombs the lyricist roams geographically and emotionally, McCombs the songwriter meanders through musical periods. The fuzz-bass pattern and tense organ chords of "Tourist Woman" recall the dark psychedelic jams of the Doors, while lead single "Sacred Heart" borrows heavily from the Cure and the Smiths. Despite that genre-dabbling, PREfection sounds cohesive thanks to McCombs's arching use of slowcore-inspired repetition, organs and keyboards to provide the LP's texture, and prevalence to end tracks with their chorus fading out on repeat.

McCombs hits a snag by spreading his creative juices too thin across the vocals and instrumentation. The result is a scanty "wall of sound" consisting solely of bass, guitar and organ/keyboard with little variation or build. On "Multiple Suns" and "City of Brotherly Love", the instruments are fixed in unison, diverging only briefly in the former for a lead guitar bend. It's pretty but it grows tiresome.

McCombs does manage his own brand of boiled-down shoegazing when instruments play more independently. First track "Equinox", probably the strongest of the album, opens with a subtle, ringing guitar pattern as keyboards dramatically swell above steady, syncopated bass notes. McCombs adheres to standard song structure, but cleverly gives each instrument a run at carrying the melody. Midway through, the composition has already taken precedence over whatever lyrical labyrinth McCombs may have constructed. Instead of repeating verses for the apparent sole purpose of delivering more riddles, McCombs lets the music do the talking on "Equinox". For now, this is how the relatively unknown McCombs should aim to captivate listeners-- with his crafty songwriting. Then, once his celebrity grows to "Cass is dating who???" proportions, he can start throwing some lyrical knuckleballs.