Rural Electric released its first CD in 2002, its second in 2006 and a third, “Fess Point,” in January. The spacing out of these three CDs is reminiscent of how some parents may space out the years between the births of their children.
In Rural Electric’s case, the first two children have been sent off to school, and they have just mailed the birth announcements of their third baby to the world, all tied together with hand-crafted bow, poem and artful design, yet laced with a tinge of conviction and confidence. They have become savvy parents now, with a collection of cherub-faced offspring spun together in philosophy and genuine style.
The band has gone through some reincarnations over the years, but now consists of Alan Gibson (piano, guitar and vocals), Andrew Carpenter (guitar, bass and vocals), Mike Bahner (drums) and Amy Arnett (violin). Even though they have moved around a bit inside the group, they have stayed true and solid to their sound: Folky, rocky and a little eccentric, with definite reminiscences of R.E.M.
The 10-song CD goes along from upbeat, catchy songs (“Absolute Zero,” “Christopher Guest Movie”) with poppy, staccato drum beats and scratchy electric guitar, then wavers to more subdued tracks like “Barely Alive” or “I’m Not There” (one of my favorites). In the latter track, Carpenter makes good use of the acoustic qualities this band has articulated — the supple gutsy sound of acoustic guitar, lovely piano and light vocal harmonies.
“You’re Not Believing,” probably instigated by love lost, shows off what the band can do with the sparse use of acoustic guitar, piano and some tasty uses of electric guitar tone, imitating the cries of an animal in the wild, in distress and alone.
“Fess Point” arrives from an organic space, and the complaints I have with it — too little attention put on the vocal harmonies in some songs and the thin-sounding electric guitar in others — could possibly be what makes up some of the idiosyncrasies and character of Rural Electric.
I’m not so sure, but it is worth it to give this CD a spin and make up your own subjective mind.
Kristin DiCara-McClellan is a local freelance writer.
Comments are no longer available on this story