The label of "novelty act" could very easily be misapplied to a band with the kind of polarizing presence that The Daredevil Christopher Wright has. Their harmonizing vocal antics, cheeky lyrics and often musically schizophrenic compositions make them a threesome as far from run of the mill as a band can get.
Piece by piece, the group's influences on In Deference to a Broken Back are obvious, and as a whole, the album's 11 tracks are leaps and bounds from sounding anything like each other. To its credit, though, while it may be a "mixed disc" sounding album, it stands upright as a collection, even as it manages to separate nicely into clearly very individual segments - and ones that have more value than just existing as ascendant facsimiles of each other.
After the misleading, but no less clever, representation the classical string and choir vocal opening "Hospital" suggests, the album's second track "The East Coast", departs into a crisp and clean fret-board acoustic that has lead vocalist Jason Sunde sounding remarkably like one of the Flemion brothers of The Frogs fame. In fact, if this were the only permitted introduction to The Daredevil Christopher Wright, you might actually mistake the track for a really good Frogs song. The pitchy, restrained maniacs of the vocal delivery is endearing from start to finish (whereas any disjointed Frogs composition grows tiring real fast), as Sunde speaks in second person narrative to and about an estranged family member and the forthcoming events in his life. The disposition of the singer is unique - normally a story of relocation and marriage carry a sentimental overtone of "my how we've changed and grown". "The East Coast" rather, stands at a comfortably detached distance - but there's a bizarre, muted objection in the lyrics. Curiosity, envy maybe? The neatly worded verse: "Make a home, some room for your records, and the telephone will record all your answers..." certainly hints at the singer's carefully expressed frustration.
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| photo courtesy Frank Wang, chromewaves.net |
The reconciling mood of the waltzy "Acceptable Loss" is another telling wrapped in the forbearance of the true emotions hiding underneath. The consolation in the short and sweet 3/4 is comfort offered, but felt neither in delivery or receipt. It's the detachment in it that makes an emotional connection, and a more captivating one at that. DCW quickly establishes that as their writing tendency. It's almost as if they mock the idea of real concern over anything, offering the expected condolences with an almost perceptible sigh. When Sunde states: "Heal all you've inflicted, making peace with your savior..." you can just about hear him rolling his eyes at the ridiculous notion. The succor words are there, but any empathy you derive from them is going to have to be up to you. It's flippant, and it's an endlessly enduring quality the band's songs have. You hang on every line waiting for the snide little bite they may or may not suggest, but it's done so subtly and sharp, you might just miss it.
On the other side of the sagacious lyrical obstacle course The Daredevil Christopher Wright designs, the somewhat Pixies sounding (in the last two minutes of it, anyway) "A Conversation About Cancer", while still noticeably barbed, is one of few tracks on the album that speaks to genuine paranoid emotion from a first person viewpoint. Couched among the sneaky commentary of its counterparts, however, the song serves to give DCW a sympathetic heart at just the moment in this collection when you might start to wonder if they had one. Credit given to the album's arrangement, as following this track with the wicked and demeaning "Bury You Alive" makes a cool shift in temperament. The disparity between the attacking lyrics and the upbeat and sunny, "coffee commercial" tone of the music is amusing as hell, and there could not be a better uplifting moment for feeling truly righteous than in the gloating and sunny little flute refrain that follows the first statement that he "will bury you alive".
The album does lose a little steam just past its halfway point, but considering all the death defying feats that The Daredevil Christopher Wright so nimbly accomplishes from track to track, by that time you're ready for a somewhat more even landing. Of those winding down tracks, "War Stories" and "Near Death Experiences At Sea" are others (of the afore mentioned few) undisguised and truly sincere lyrical posturings. In moments when one is faced with their mortality, we tend to quickly pinpoint what we appreciate, make excuses for what we have to live for. The latter track is a brief 1960's sounding rock n' roll "doo wop" that, although musically bland (maybe even encroaching on outright annoying), makes itself useful simply by adding flare to the album at point where it's needed - if only just to step things up a slight.
In Deference to a Broken Back is DCW's debut full length album, with their sophomore effort slated for release 6/26/2012. Both are available by clicking the album cover below.
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