A huge sun and a huge moon hung in the Old Vic Tunnels as part of a cosmic art installation when I went to see Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros. It was the light and the dark, symbolising very well what the band express to the extreme, amidst a psychedelic backdrop of beautiful wierdness.
Alex Ebert takes the bright side of their sound and takes it away from the demons and the bad memories and gives us his debut solo album; Alexander.
It seems as if, rather than a departure from Edward Sharpe, Ebert just had too many ideas and too much zest for life to be able to wait for the next album. His rasping yet joyful wails float dreamily upon distant eukele, and guitar echoes, whilst rhythm is rarely more than the shaking of a tamborine or a hand clap. And it needn’t be more. The more lo-fi sound, suits what is Ebert‘s biggest asset; his massive voice.
Had Ebert been around in the summer of love in San Francisco he could have been at the center of the face painting and the casual fornication, and converted thousands to his visions and great music. Not that he doesn’t have this now, I just doubt he hears quite as many cries from audience members as “I’m going to get naked because I’m free and I can! Who’s with me?!” Or maybe I’m wrong.
The truth is, despite the beautiful pictures Ebert paints, he’s actually a very diciplined song writer, that carefully crafts his sound into accessible songs. ‘Old Friend‘ sounds like a long lost folk tale from the turn of the century sang into a canyon. Whereas ‘Lets Win!‘ could be a country song from the early sixties that sounds so familiar, yet fresh sounding enough to brighten any Monday morning.
‘Glimpses‘ is an epic confession that because Ebert‘s voice is so raw, sounds like it was sang on the spot, and as with ‘Bad Bad Love‘, his voice couldn’t be more evocative. It’s like Dylan if he was a little less of a miserable sod.
Basically, Alexander Ebert sounds like an epic travelling gypsy who has told his tales far and wide giving him a true gift for writing and performing. This is course ss opposed to the kind of singing travelling gypsys who I usually encounter that sound like they should be gently put down.
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Post by T.R Wicks
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