It’s used, sometimes, as a kind of defense for the indefensible. Imagine, for instance, a hefty fellow in a ten gallon hat ordering his third main course at a faux-grillhouse in London, because they don’t make the portions gargantuan enough over here, while hurling questionable right-wing diatribes at all and sundry. You might approach him and say “but in these days of more fashionable headwear, lo carb options and political correctness, why do you act like you do in public, sir?”. And he’d probably reply, with a self-congratulatory smirk, “well boy, you can take the man out of Texas, but you sure can’t take Texas out of the man, yee-haw!” or something. But thankfully in this particular instance we’re not using it as a defense. You see, you can take Justin Russo out of Mercury Rev (in fact, you already have), but you can’t take Mercury Rev out of Justin Russo (no you can’t). The more grand dreamy pop to go round, the better, surely? Correct.
The man who played keys on epic indie masterpiece ‘Deserter’s Songs’ has certainly felt the weight of that record’s influence course through the veins of both his post-Rev outfits, Hopewell and now The Silent League. If there is one single thing that makes such comparisons unavoidable it’s that country whisper on a balance beam voice, all frail but ever so hopeful, that he and Jonathan Donahue share. Can’t miss it. And that’s before you bring up the Neil Young on mushrooms feel of most of the album. Hopewell, if we remember correctly from a brief encounter, remained crouched amid shadows and gave their cargo an ominous spin. But with The Silent League, as the member-count has grown the intensity has lessened somewhat, leaving the beautiful bare bones – lightweight melodies, solid playing and slight of hand.
The 8-piece gentle-pop orchestra from New York are an eloquently presented proposition at all times, like Tindersticks gone wild west. Piano spills over guitar spills over strings spills into dreamy thoughts, which always take their own sweet time to get where they’re going. The title track, ‘Motion Picture’ and ‘Glass Walls’ all have the twee melodrama and irresistible storytelling pomp of the Delgados, woven through with the simplistic melodic technique of Simon & Garfunkel. ‘Conversation’ is pure Lou Reed ‘Perfect Day’ territory, like ambling through the still darkness of a settling fog with a lantern providing immediate definition and adequate warmth. ‘The Catbird Seat’ is the album’s lead-off single and centerpiece, and it’s clear to see why, with its Mercury Rev and The Bad Seeds at 10 paces atmospherics. This isn’t quite what you’d call a masterpiece, but you get the feeling that if you can take the man out of a classic you probably can’t take the classic from the man, he’ll find it again, one day.