KURT VILE: SMOKE RING FOR MY HALO
[rating: 4.5 stars]
Kurt Vile: Smoke Ring For My Halo
Label: Matador Records
Release date: March 8, 2011
Kurt Vile knows exactly what he’s trying to say, but would like us to think otherwise.
On his fourth record, Smoke Ring For My Halo, Vile’s self-doubting loner conversations with himself unfold like a diary rambling entry, and whether or not we are privy to listen, is part of the allure. Mumbling lines like “Think I’ll never leave my couch again, because when I’m out, I’m away in my mind. Christ was born, I was there. You know me, I’m around. I got friends, hey wait, where was I, well, I am trying.” – Vile, subconsciously, as much as he tries to convince the listener he’s lost, always knows where he is.
The songs on Smoke Ring For My Halo, represent a bit of a departure for the Philly based singer/ songwriter whose stoner persona has characteristically given his songs a half-finished demo feel, not only conceptually incomplete but produced on a budget. All this has changed, and Vile’s songs, while maintaining the simplicity of previous albums (maybe even more so) are more complete, fully realized arrangements of strange beauty with subtle nuances that consummate just how much Vile really cares, about both the songs and the subject matter. His “whatever” attitude only rears its head in “Runner Ups”, asking everyone to “take a whiz on the world…Sometimes I get stuck in a rut, too It’s ok, girlfriend” but deep down, Vile is just mimicking a protagonist removed from the world; a character he has so often played.
Sonically, Smoke Ring channels the energies of the seventies, notably the Rolling Stones, Neil Young, Tom Petty and John Fahey, both paying homage to the albums influences and imbibing the genre with some new found energy and wry lyrical observations. With Dylan-esque guitar jangles, classic rock keys, harp and slide, Vile ambles along effortlessly, sneering and yearning with plenty of whimsy hidden beneath the gloom on tracks like “Puppet to the Man” and the oddly upbeat “Jesus Fever.” “In My Time” is a hypnotic indie pop gem, while “Ghost Town” is a prolific ode to latent depression, a long winded, mumbling philosophy lesson from a slacker who desperately doesn’t care. “Raindrops might fall on my head sometimes / I don’t pay ’em any mind.” But by the end of this album, we, like Vile, know better.
