Harry Nilsson was a singer/songwriter in the ‘60s and ‘70s who, in his best moments in music and life, authored transcendent bursts of emotion and drama, an extraverted soul exploding outward to touch all that fell within the blast range. But trouble even the most banal intellect with a discussion of the personality trait of extraversion, and a mention of the flip side – introversion – should soon follow. And that’s where Cass McCombs – a singer/songwriter of the ‘00s and ‘10s, with all that collision of worlds old and new implies – firmly hangs his psychological shingle as an artist. He too traffics in transcendent bursts of emotion and drama, but all in interior shots, the sorrow and melancholy like tangible twine wrapped around the lungs and throat and heart.
McCombs released two records in ’11 – Wit’s End followed by Humor Risk – and either one would have scaled the heights in any year. While Humor Risk is merely (“merely”) a collection of great songs with verve and bite – McCombs described the album as “punched out,” which does powerful tracks like “Mystery Mail” and “Meet Me At The Mannequin Gallery” a disservice – Wit’s End is the start-to-finish old-tyme album, beginning the journey with the heartbreakingly exquisite “County Line” and ending with the haunting “A Knock Upon The Door,” with nary a dud in between. Initially, I gravitated to both songs the most, but with repeated plays, I find that “Saturday Song” stuns with a deep vein of dysthymic despair, an epic sweep that stands with the best of late ‘60s Scott Walker, if Walker muted the fanfares and turned the energies inward. Two sterling efforts add up to one fantastic record.
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