Pitchfork

I'll admit that I have an automatic soft-spot for odd instrumentation. Back when I first started to buy CDs-- at a bank-busting clip-- I liked looking through used bins and finding bands with oddball setups; chances are if it was less than eight bucks and had a sackbut or a nyckelharpa in the credits, it got bought. Of course this led to a lot of bum purchases (I suppose it was better than working from song lengths, like I did in my prog phase), but I never would have dug into the catalogues of Lullaby for the Working Class, Calexico or Die Anarchistische Abendunterhaltung-- a Dutch four-piece whose name translates to the Anarchistic Evening Entertainment-- otherwise, so I like to chalk it up as a reasonably successful buying habit.

Thanks to the increased financial burdens of adulthood, I'm well out of that phase now, but I can't help getting a bit giddy when a disc leads off as Olden does, with the twanging jew's harp and trembling bandoneon (similar to an accordion) of "American Wheeze". These two instruments slowly coalesce into a blisteringly dark groove before David Eugene Edwards (grandson of a traveling Nazarene preacher) opens his mouth, exhaling a scorching breath of fire and brimstone. This is the world Sixteen Horsepower have meticulously created over the last decade, one where everybody's days are numbered, all sinners get their due, and you could be next. Olden chronicles their crucial early phase, before they had even released an album, scooping together two electrifying six-song demos and a hellraising live performance. As baby steps go, these are about as confident and destructive as they come.

The band's initial creative burst was truly amazing. These recordings date from 1993 and 1994 (five were reprised on the late-90s LP Low Estate); knowing the band allowed them to incubate for so long is an indication of just how mature their craft was early on. "American Wheeze" was one of those songs, and you can hear its evolution here, as it's included in two very different forms: the aforementioned version and a later one that more closely anticipates the frantic final album take. The rawness of these recordings suits the band perfectly, capturing the slide guitar in particular in its gutbucket glory. "South Pennsylvania Waltz" is manic and violent, while the live version of "Pure Clob Road" feels like the circus with the tent collapsing, Edwards acting the part of panicked ringmaster, squeezing his bandoneon in singing in a frenzied half-shout.

If Sixteen Horsepower ever had a problem on their albums, it's that a couple of tracks always sag in the face of their potential, but that doesn't happen here. In fact, the only thing disturbing the disc's flow is the genuinely odd placement of two inconsequential interview snippets at the end of the two demo sessions. As interviews, they shed light on nothing, and serve only to gum up the transitions between sections of the compilation. These days, you wonder why-- provided the funds existed-- the folks at Jetset didn't add an enhanced video portion with a full, video interview. It would have been more generous to the fans likely to buy this, and it would have helped the overall product feel more unified. As it stands, their inclusion is a real poser.

Still, when "Slow Guilt Trot" rages in to start the live set after the second interview bit, it's hard to deny the onslaught. The disc ends on a breakneck live rendition of Low Estate's "Dead Run", which features some of Edwards' most emphatically dire exhortations with lines like "One by one, we croak like the raven" and "The undertaker knows/ He lays the headstones in endless rows." The band's brutal blues-punk attack must have been exhilarating for anyone lucky enough to be at the show.

Recently, Sixteen Horsepower have become more measured in their approach, refining their sound into a more Appalachian mold-- their fifth album, last year's Folklore, contains multiple covers of traditional songs-- and they've taken on a different power as a unit as a result. Despite its archival nature, Olden captures the band at their fiery peak and sans the filler that slowed their early records; it's an excellent starting point for the uninitiated.