Over the course of only a few years Kurt Vile has gone from much mumbled about lo-fi bedroom artist to one of indie-rock’s most recognizable names. His progressive, but laid-back, approach to Americana is easy to appreciate, because underneath the clatter and hum of even his most submerged and fuzz-laden tracks, lies the work of one of the most gifted singer/songwriters that has emerged in some time. He is part John Fahey, part Keith Richards, and part Hank Williams, yet it is clear that he came of age in the 1990s. Nevertheless, there is something almost nostalgic about his music that invokes a road trip into the heart of the vast American night that existed before billboards and cellular towers populated the landscape, when the horizon seemed open and limitless. You can imagine Vile playing on the stereo of a ’57 Chevy as it pulls into to a full-service station off of Route 66 somewhere between Albuquerque and Flagstaff at around 10 o’clock on a Tuesday night. It's sharp, road-worthy stuff that can easily soundtrack your entrance and exit from city to city, but casual enough to take the time and appreciate all of the empty space in between.
"Smoke Ring For My Halo" is Vile's forth album, and his most focused yet. Oddly enough, though, it is more languid and spacious than his last record "Childish Prodigy" which flirted with burned-out blues rock at times. This time around Vile pulls his punches in terms of volume and noise, emphasizing instead all of the tiny flourishes that make up this batch of subdued, but often spritely, Americana-inflected gems. With the exception of a few effects here and there, Vile has left his prior lo-fi leanings behind to great effect. Songs like opener "Baby's Arms" show a depth of composition and production that we have not yet heard from Vile, or maybe we have, but with "Halo's" cleaner sound we finally hear these songs' beautiful layers in all of their glory. Spend time with "Baby's Hands," and not only will the crystal clear acoustic picking strike you, but you'll gradually become enraptured by the subtle percussion and effects that shade the song so perfectly.
Cleaner production isn't the only change to Vile's sound; "Jesus Fever" is his first straight-up pop song. I can hear this being played on the airwaves alongside Wilco, Tom Petty and George Harrison. Granted, Vile has undoubtedly flirted with pop before, but this is his most direct foray into accessibility. Contrary to my own natural inclination against such easy breezy flights of melody, it is also one of my favorite tracks on the record, addictive hooks and all.
Then there is Vile's revamped, more restrained approach toward his blues-rock tendencies, and guess what? It works wonderfully as well. "Puppet To The Man" has the same swagger of a Stones' song, but is more spacious and laid-back, even while it snarls throughout. It's a great track and reminds you that even though Vile has made his name as a quirky songwriter of beautiful acoustic songs, there is also a toughness at his core that makes those beautiful moments well-earned. Vile isn't Sam Beam after all, he's more Elliott Smith minus the vast tragedy that ended Smith's life and career too early.
The reworked template that Vile lays down on "Halo's" first three tracks is repeated throughout the record without flaw. The album is populated with immaculately produced acoustic driven numbers, hummable pop tracks and darker, edgier songs making for a consistent whole that - like "Childish Prodigy" before - holds up no matter how many times you hit repeat. Often Vile combines these elements, like on the stunning "Runners Up," an angry, serrated, but gorgeous acoustic track that may, or may not, have brought tears of rage to my own hallowed-out cynical eyes more than once.
The record's last proper song is the expansive "Ghost Town," a track that sounds like it could have been an outtake from Wilco's masterpiece "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot." I say this not to compare Vile to classic-era Wilco, but because it strikes me that as "Halo" comes to a close Vile sounds confident beyond his years throughout this record, and he should. For me to even talk about "Smoke Ring For My Halo" in the same breath as one of the greatest albums of the aughts means that he definitely should. Vile has the talent and the vision to not only live up to his quickly-earned reputation, but to far exceed it.
"In My Time" live at Luna In-Store
Kurt Vile - In My Time from LaundroMatinee on Vimeo.
"Runners Up" live on Pitchfork TV
"Jesus Fever" live on Pitchfork TV
Kurt Vile didn't need to produce an all killer, no filler ep this year, but he did. In fact he produced an ep so spectacular that - for me at least - it threatens to overshadow his excellent "Smoke Ring For My Halo" album. This is Vile at his heaviest sounding. It's basically a collection of tracks for those who were blown away by his best Elliott Smith impression on "Halo's" "Runner Ups," and needed more of that sort of thing. Backed up by the heft of the Violators throughout, the record is the least delicate, and most fully realized Vile release to date, at least in terms of instrumentation. If you have been living in a cave and haven't heard Vile yet, this is an excellent starting point into the work of the best new artist to emerge over the past few years.
