4 out of 5

Label: Smells Like Records

Produced by: Doug Easley

The Allmusic review for this references Leonard Cohen, and I’d say that’s absolutely the main touchpoint here, even before Fuck, Tim Prudhomme’s main band. The latter influence is inevitably there, rearing its head when the album turns toward simple pop, with a peppy drum beat (thanks, Geoff Soule!), an upturned lilt to the singing, and a catchy ditty of a riff – and these tracks all maybe coincidentally have ‘Love’ in the title – Lost Love; I Love to Be With You; etc. – but then we flip over to the rest of these 12 tunes, and it is some of the barest, most whispery and affecting music any member of this crew has written.

…To the extent that my first few listens of With The Hole Dug were hard to parse, distracted by those upbeat moments in a way that threw the rest into too stark of a contrast, but that’s me basing the listen off of expectation. Setting aside a love for Fuck, and approaching this album on its own, those poppy tunes are a necessary contrast to step through the other songs, highlighting how they’re not all as sad as they may initially seem. While we deal with a fair amount of heartbreak, Tim is also just narrating in his simple-eyed but nuance-catching way, furthering the Cohen comparison of the watchful poet. And while Prudhomme’s voice isn’t as characteristic as that of the classic troubadour, he has his own way of applying it for effectiveness, using the relative weakness of his singing voice to pair with a humble delivery, and to not overstep the subtle production affectations added to the songs, which are a must for appreciating the moods made by this album.

That was also one of the things I missed upon my first several listens: the ambience. Buried deep in the recordings are clicks and tinks and various effects, applied just out of reach, and only fleetingly. But once you’re aware of them – I’d argue they add a feeling even before you notice them – they have a massive impact on the listen, enhancing the depth of the tracks.

Very occasionally, these approaches lean too far in one direction or another: I Love To Be With You is almost a filler track, and sometimes Tim’s casual lyricism makes for questionably pointless lines; while most of the minimalism is strikingly paired with aforementioned choice flourish and emotionality, Pachelbel Blues – though a beautiful melody – is almost too stripped down, in both words and music, and drags things right before the album’s midpoint.

But even with these minor flaws, I was so surprised upon revisiting this, far away from my expectations, how strong of a standalone release it is, and how far apart it actually stands from Fuck’s material.