Eric Bachman: To the races

Particularly eagle eyed indie kids will spot that this blog’s name take some inspiration from the name of an Archers of Loaf b-side. It’s fair to say I love the Archers as much as any other indie rock guitar band, in fact more than most, if not all. The solo work of singer Eric Bachman is the subject of this review, and I feel it only fair to temper the critique with the caveat that readers should listen to Crooked Fingers eponemous debut and the follow up ‘Bring on Snakes’ as they are really quite remarkably intricate, intimate and mysterous albums.

Bachman however, has this time, disapointed me. The album as a whole feels unfinished – I think the aim is to provide a kind of confessional vibe, as Bachman is rarely accompanied and the arrangements are simple and take no great effort to listen too and absorb. Here in lies the disapointment, as these songs largely sound not like soul wrenching heart rending cries to the wilderness, sung by candlelight in an isolated dark, but like demos for songs that might be quite good if they were developed a bit. They cry out for some lap steel, for a bit of percussion, for the beautiful mesmeric electronic textures of the aforementioned ‘bring on snakes’ – Simply put, it sounds like he hasn’t tried very hard with this one.

There are two outstanding tracks – first, the painful love song ‘Home’ – no concidence that here unlike most other tracks, raspy strings tear accross the delicate finger picking with an almost eastern mystery. It feels like his best material does, dark, doleful, tired and lamenting, his scarred and scored voice sounding like a million regrets drifting into a liquor sunset.

Second, the title track ‘To the Races’ is an unexpected blast of gypsy folk, a lively jig with just a hint of foreboding that lifts the album beyond the repetive plodding simple finger picked melody and rhythm of it’s main body. Really, I wish there was something else to tell you. I really do. It’s nice, it’s not bad, it’s just not memorable. I’m not going to do a hatchet job on Eric – I can’t, his words and music mean to much to me – but really, if you havn’t got them, buy the albums I mention above, then hope that he pulls something out next time, because he’s capable of the most intricate and odd interplay between lyric and music, of disturbing and dark imagery and of songs that worm their way into your head, without you quite understanding them. This is all too bare, too obvious and well, too easy.

sorry Eric, I really am…

Have a listen to his genius here…

(Archers of Loaf – White Trash Heroes)

(Crooked Fingers – New Drink for the old Drunk)

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