Pitchfork

If nothing else, you've got to give Greg Weeks points for tenacity. Though he suffers from the sort of debilitating tendonitis and carpel tunnel inflammations that would send most of us permanently to the sofa, Weeks has persevered to complete the most productive and satisfying stretch of his career to date. Following up his 2003 solo EP Slightly West and last year's extraordinary debut with his acid-folk group Espers, Blood Is Trouble finds Weeks using his voice and those damaged hands to create a quietly powerful suite of songs which resolutely delve the darkest shadows of his talents.

Although his extensive use of acoustic instrumentation will probably cause Blood Is Trouble to get lumped into the ongoing outsider folk movement, Weeks' songcraft here owes relatively little to folk tradition-- especially in comparison to his work in Espers. You'll certainly find nothing to resemble the ballads, jigs, and reels of Fairport Convention or the Incredible String Band. Blood Is Trouble instead belongs alongside the rain-soaked progressive art-rock of Nico, Leonard Cohen, and the more downcast recordings from the Canterbury scene, particularly albums like Robert Wyatt's Rock Bottom.

As with Weeks' previous solo efforts, the arrangements on Blood Is Trouble are heavy on harmonium and the hums of ancient keyboards. The weight of these earthy, ever-present drones-- frequently augmented here by the dramatic sweep of Margie Weink's cello and contra bass-- supply these songs with a seemingly bottomless gravity, which can often pull Weeks' vocals and guitar under their black waves. Melodically bolder than his past solo work, the album is punctuated with the occasional prog-rock indulgence, such as on the Ghost-like cymbal-crashing interjection of "Don't You Open Up (Your Eyes)" or the lush, near-chamber instrumental passages of "Nearer Thine Eyes".

As the album's title implies (unsurprisingly, given Weeks' health maladies), the lyrics are often centered around the difficulties caused by our possession of physical bodies. Whispers of danger and injury-- both actual and spiritual-- arise repeatedly in these songs, as on the foreboding "Violence Lake" where Weeks warns someone to "Hide your body away from mine/ Because I know what I want to do to it." And on "These Hands", Weeks appears to be directly formulating a stubborn answer to his own health problems, repeatedly singing "These are not my hands before me" until he sounds able to believe it enough to allow his guitar to weave nimble threads through the thick gauze of cello and keys.

Vocally, Weeks still has his limitations, and during some of the more emotive bits one can't help but wish he had his female Espers co-vocalists by his side. He does periodically receive splendid harmonic support, and not coincidentally it's those songs ("Wet Set", "Skelp Level Rd.") on which the hooks sink in immediately. But if you allow it time, the rest of Blood Is Trouble will eventually infuse your more melancholic solitary hours as well.