Album: EVANGELISTA – Hello, Voyager (Constellation CST050 2008)

Carla Bozulich’s first album for Constellation, Evangelista, was a broken, harrowing soul-baring and burden-bearing record in the manner of John Cale’s Music For A New Society or the first Throwing Muses LP. The title track especially was an emotionally difficult listen. Now Evangelista the album has morphed into Evangelista the group, although who apart from Bozulich and bassist Tara Barnes are actually paid-up members, and who are simply guests isn’t totally clear. Popping up along the way are the usual Hotel2Tango suspects like Eric Craven, Jessica and Nadia Moss, Thierry Amar, Brooke Crouser and Efrim Menuck. Also, perhaps surprisingly, Nels Cline makes a brief appearance on “The Blue Room”

Generally Hello, Voyager is lighter in mood, if not in tone, than its predecessor. Leaving aside the two book-ending tracks, that is. “For The Li’l Dudes” is a beautiful chamber instrumental for string quintet, and “The Blue Room” almost a conventional ballad – and a very good one at that. “Truth Is Dark Like Outer Space” is a two and a half minute, high octane punk track that leads into “The Frozen Dress”, a challenging, wordless vocal drone piece, interspersed by “fucked up guitar” (Carla’s description) that sounds like the ominous snoring of a pretty scary dragon. “Paper Kitten Claw” is a beautiful, if sombre, tune coloured by organ stabs and almost baroque violin from Jessica Moss.

These seven tunes make for a juicy middle: eclectic, by turns experimental and easily accessible, but generally almost cheerful. The tone of the book-ending tracks is black and apocalyptic. “Winds Of Saint Anne” is a relatively brief howl of anguish. “Hello Voyager” is a fire and brimstone sermon of self-laceration. Like Ginsberg’s Howl mixed with a mad street corner preacher. Twelve minutes of clattering percussion, fractured, spitting guitar, and above it all Carla Bozulich’s desperate, tortured declamations. It ends in exhausted calm and spent absolution with an affirmation in the redemptive power of love. It’s an absolutely breathtaking piece of music, and is a fitting end to a pretty stunning album.

Tracks
1 Winds of Saint Anne (4:05)
2 Smooth Jazz (2:29)
3 Lucky Lucky Lucky (3:27)
4 For The L’il Dudes (2:47)
5 The Blue Room (4:53)
6 Truth Is Dark Like Outer Space (2:26)
7 The Frozen Dress (6:27)
8 Paper Kitten Claw (5:14)
9 Hello, Voyager! (12:12)

Website
www.carlabozulich.com

Song of the Day: CARLA BOZULICH – Evangelista I (2006)

Carla Bozulich was the first non-Canadian act to sign to Montreal’s Constellation records, and the first with a substantial track record behind her. Her debut album for the label, Evangelista, involved many of the Hotel2Tango studio crew, so sounded right at home among the other acts on the imprint. Evangelista is an intense record. There are moments of quiet intensity, and moments of loud intensity, but the tension is always there. It’s not the easiest listen. The music is not overly intellectual or difficult, just very raw and harrowing.

“Evangelista 1” is the first of two versions on the title track, and kicks of the record. It is a nine minute primal howl. There is a sample of a 1936 sermon by an old-style fire and brimstone minister called Elder Otis Jones, and the track plays like a fiery Baptist tract. Instead of reaching out, the fire is turned inward, and the song comes across as a barely sane tract of disgust, fear and self-loathing. Bozulich has a remarkable voice – it’s an instrument of immense power that sounds a little like a cross between Kristin Hersh and Patti Smith. She doesn’t sing in any conventional sense on “Evangelista 1”, but declaims the song as if she’s channelling the words rather than initiating them. The backing music is a mass of discordant strings and electronic loops. The whole thing is mesmerising, like hearing every dark thought and emotion being exorcised during ten minutes of terror. When I saw her perform the song live, the petite figure of Bozulich seemed demonically possessed by it. It was a draining and bruising experience just watching.

The album closes with “Evangelista 2” which couldn’t be more of a contrast. The second version is quiet and calm – almost serene. The only musical accompaniment is Efrim Menuck’s gentle tremelo guitar strumming. Nothing else on the record is quite as punishing as its lead track, but the other seven songs are all strong, highly emotional pieces. A new LP is due out this autumn.