Danger Mouse and Sparklehorse
Dark Night of the Soul
(Capitol/EMI)
Dark Night Of The Soul made our Top 12 Albums list of 2009, thanks to the "official" leak that year, which appeared in the wake of label disputes over the rights to Danger Mouse's music. In 2010 such disputes have been cleared, so in the light of both the albums official release, as well as the recent passing of Sparklehorse (aka Mark Linkous), there seemed fair context to delve into the record proper - Ed.
Greatness comes in all forms, and on Dark Night of the Soul, Danger Mouse and the late Sparklehorse, delight in that notion through the versatility of different voices. Of course, both collaborators – born Brian Burton and Mark Linkous, respectively – have found past refuge in their own musical guises, which makes employing a line-up of guest singers here not such a stretch. Kept from official release until now by a legal sticking point, this is like a fantasy jukebox housing a great many distinctive singers – and David Lynch for good measure. Burton and Linkous tailor each song to their singer of choice, sometimes choosing a snug musical fit and sometimes ripping away any sense of comfort zone. All the time, it’s Linkous’s words they’re singing, and so it’s not so different in concept than Stephin Merritt’s 6ths project or even Woody Allen casting infinite versions of himself.
Musically, these 13 songs cover a lot of ground while remaining faithful to the dewy psych, gloomy rock, and cosmic country associated with Sparklehorse. The songs can be grouped into a few successive chapters, the first beginning with the Flaming Lips’ Wayne Coyne singing ‘Revenge’. Tinged with vocoder, he’s lodged in a moody electro-soul setting familiar from the recent Broken Bells album and given a hangdog refrain ripe for heartbreak: “And the more I try to hurt you, the more it backfires.” It sets up well the jaunty Beatlesque pop Super Furry Animals’ Gruff Rhys inhabits on ‘Just War’, complete with whistling. Then it’s Grandaddy’s Jason Lytle in his usual bucolic yawn on the lavishly coloured character study ‘Jaykub’.
The amiable direction changes with the wiry ‘Little Girl’, featuring a signature vocal turn from Julian Casablancas and some terrific guitar worthy of the Strokes. The Frank Black-sung ‘Angel’s Harp’ is seedier by far, setting Black’s nasty blues howl to sloshing rock. Iggy Pop then seems to adopt a deadpan homage to Ian Curtis on ‘Pain’, a track raw and menacing both musically and lyrically. Even these three songs, though, are grimly pretty. Another turn comes with the intergalactic-sounding ‘Star Eyes (I Can’t Catch It)’, which isn’t nearly as weird as you’d expect from a David Lynch vocal turn. Lynch’s voice is reedy and pinched but also uncharacteristically heartfelt. Lytle returns on the boozy ‘Everytime I’m With You’ before the Shins’ James Mercer – Burton’s partner in Broken Bells – sings on the volatile cauldron of distortion and strings that is ‘Insane Lullaby’. It’s like a Phil Spector Christmas song forced inside out.
The next three songs lean towards the country canon. The Cardigans’ Nina Persson does a low-key duet with Linkous on the sweetly sad ‘Daddy’s Gone’, with the refrain “I woke up and all my yesterdays were gone.” Suzanne Vega sings in a lovely coo on the twangy ‘The Man Who Played God’, while ‘Grim Augury’ presents the late Vic Chesnutt – who, like Linkous, committed suicide since these recordings – as his creepy yet humane best. The closing title track leaves us with one more take on the bleary dream atmosphere that’s the through line to the album’s different musical tacks. Lynch sings again and comes closer this time to the resonating strangeness of his films.
One could call this an album of tasteful Linkous ventriloquism, but that would sell short the singers as well as Burton and Linkous’s masterful playing and production. Rather, this is collaboration as alchemy, creating ethereal new strains from familiar earthly ingredients. The fact that Linkous tucks a compact, stirring narrative into each song is simply a bonus for this bewitching work of art.
Doug Wallen