Like a series of memoirs about struggles of faith and addiction, David Bazan’s Curse Your Branches, represents his most polished, yet personal release to date.
Curse Your Branches is the full-length follow up to Bazan’s first solo release, Fewer Moving Parts, a collection of new songs, B-sides and alternate versions. For the former vocalist and principal songwriter for Pedro the Lion, Fewer Moving Parts represented Bazan’s declaration of independence, chronicling the split with lyrics: “So I had to let some go, don’t think I don’t regret it because I do, and I don’t think I’m better off alone.” Whatever regrets he had, Bazan seems to have left them behind, turning his focus instead to his agnosticism, parenthood and sobriety.
For the seasoned storyteller, this autobiographical approach lacks nothing. Blatant confessions of inadequacy and self-doubt are woven gracefully through vivid metaphor and striking queries that play as Bazan’s resignation letter to God from the search for concrete truth.
For a musician whose previous work reflected a deep-seeded faith, Bazan’s newfound skepticism is apparent through lyrics such as, “Wait just a minute, you expect me to believe that all this misbehaving grew from one enchanted tree?” from the opener, “Hard to Be.” Such open cynicism right out the gate serves as a disclaimer to those who might have been expecting some solo reincarnation of Bazan’s traditional testimonials. Curse Your Branches proves that Bazan hasn’t lost a step, and that though his departure from more than just bandmates signaled a change, neither he nor his music has suffered.
Despite the apparent struggle, either with self or deity, this album in many ways finds Bazan more comfortable than ever. No longer driven by expectations, it seems Bazan is, for the first time in his recorded history, able to ask tough questions such as, “Why are some hell-bent upon there being an answer while some are quite content to answer “I don’t know?’ ” Bazan seems to make it clear that he’s the latter, and though there are instances of lyrical angst throughout Curse Your Branches, there is also a sense of relief in not having to know everything for certain.
I saw Bazan play to a small gathering in a Salt Lake City apartment during the summer, and in that intimate setting, the 50 or so there were given a stripped-down, acoustic preview of Curse Your Branches. No mic, no amp, just Bazan and his guitar playing a bunch of songs nobody had heard before. Now after having listened to the finished product, which includes the richness of a full band, it’s clear it wasn’t the setting but the songs that made me wish the concert would go on for hours.
Bazan will showcase Curse Your Branches’ potent honesty, complete with a full band and his gorgeously bitter baritone, at Kilby Court8212;a fitting all-music-and-little-glamour venue for a musical reading of his memoirs.
