Sometimes, the failures are just more interesting. That’s not to say I Am A Lion, Bravecaptain’s recent release, is one, per se, just that some of it doesn’t seem to work. It’s just that, having been inspired to listen to it by Scott McKeating’s excellent interview with Martin Carr, I’m having one of those moments when I wonder why that should make any difference at all.
As a piece, the EP can fairly be called a wreck – four ugly cuts, each shot through with messy, glitchy music and barely-there half-melodies. One minute, you’re listening to a garage track – the next it sounds like your computer’s pissed out right in the middle of playing the General MIDI-version of the Star Wars theme. Even though coherence has never been the strongest suit of the former Boo Radleys mainman, by all rights I Am A Lion should be the release where we say, “Enough already, Martin – how’s about retiring that Kid 606 mixtape you got from an ex-girlfriend 3 years ago and giving Sice a ring?”
But I’m not saying that. Rather, what grabs about this 20-minute collection that the Captain couldn’t even give away (he’s posted it for free on his website) is how damned prescient the whole thing feels. Which, for a guy who now holes himself off in the Welsh hinterland like some drug-addled Hobbit, is about the last thing I’d have expected.
Tossed off? Most definitely – I’d be shocked if Carr spent more than a few hours on all four of these tracks combined. But at a time when America seems to be struggling mightily with its role in the world (and its attendant responsibilities), when cultural “wedge issues” like constitutional amendments banning gay marriage and the “controversy” surrounding Mel Gibson’s whackjob opus (dei), “The Passion of Christ” rule the airwaves, it’s more than a relief to say that Carr’s captured something here. In fact, it’s cathartic.
Seemingly willing to play the predictable Angry British Liberal, I Am a Lion at first appears to be taking the easy route, professing outrage and portraying political leaders merely as those who “cling to their religion and rules that spread fear” (yawn). But here’s the thing, this isn’t your typical bitch session, where we all agree that Bad People are Wrong and pat ourselves on the back for having the guts to say it. Rather, Carr makes damn clear he’s not feeling inclined to sit back and take it anymore. More than that, with references to himself as a “bombmaker” and “a lion amongst the Christians,” Carr’s throwing their incendiary imagery right back in their faces. I fucking love it.
And that’s where the music begins to make sense. Carr’s at last found the ideal vehicle for that thin, weedy voice of his: a vocoder. Which is perfect, really, because intentionally or not, every time-stretched drum sample and robotic vocoder suggests systemic breakdown like his lyrics never could (or attempt, really). At the same time, the half-melodies start to sound deliberately fragmented and desperately melancholy.
Of course, maybe it’s just the timing of it all – maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow and hate his voice again. But right now, Bravecaptain seems to at last be back on course. And you can’t feed me this shit fast enough. More, Martin, more – get up off your ass and give me more.