4 out of 5

Label: Touch and Go

Produced by: Phil MacKeller

Woeful sequencing toppled by how overwhelmingly amazing the individual compositions are.  Something I find amusing about Dirty Three is how different and yet the same their early material sounds compared to their more recent stuff.  Setting aside the vocals and shorter runtimes, they just don’t really do freakouts in the same way anymore, which isn’t exactly saying that they don’t evolve to some mighty powerful moments.  A listener of this disc and Cinder or Toward the Low Sun might claim sell out (in that that we claim such things about indie acts), and then going the opposite way, NPR Dirty Three fans might waggle their double-chins at all this distortion and drumming nonsense as the whimsies of youth; but: they are undeniably the same group, working and prodding their tracks along the same lines as ever.  Do I miss the loud sounds of the Three of yore?  Yes, but I also appreciate the focus they’ve gained over the…

No, wait, let’s be honest: I miss the loud sounds of yore.  Freakouts are why I’m in this fucking game.  And opener Indian Love Song is like the king of these in D3’s career, riffing in a way you just don’t expect from the band before everyone goes batshit on the track, and then a harmonica get whipped out and all rules are out the window.  The song kicks your ass for ten plus minutes, never tiring, only to shift into the 3.5 minute punky (with violin) clatter of Better Go Home Now.  And then… and then the album hits the brakes.  Hard.  Following up the following with the pretty and ponderous Odd Couple makes sense, but to then stack that with the nigh 12-minute opus-of-going-nowhere Kim’s Dirt is a tough sell.  Not that the song is bad in and of itself (and reminds me of the open landscapes of Whatever You Love, You Are, which was actually my first D3 disc), but man, the way the songs are organized, you are just hanging on for a break that never comes.  I mean, it sort of starts to on the next track, Everything’s Fucked, but not in any way that counters the imbalance of quiet to loud thus far.  It’s not until the last, building section of penultimate track The Last Night that the album starts to get its oomph back; that it concludes with an unrelenting caterwaul finally feels like the worthwhile release you’ve been waiting for, which sets the stage for the rollicking rock of closer Dirty Equation.

Every track on this self-titled disc is pure Dirty Three, and stunning in and of itself.  The order of the songs really tests the listener’s patience, though, and even once the highs and lows are expected, it’s easier to sort of experience the disc as separate sections instead of trying to convince you’re brain that it’s meant as one cohesive album.  A band with less talent couldn’t pull it the unevenness off without probably losing their listener.  It says something about how skilled these guys are that they were able to do it one album into their career.