2 out of 5

Label: self-released

Produced by: Matt Buscher (recorded, mixed by)

The narrative of Two Ton Boa as I see it is that it started out as something of a more intimate, occasionally solo affair for Shelley Fraser, temporarily bloated into Kill Rock Stars early 00s anti-rock angst, then circled back around to Fraser and her guitar and voice. The lyrics and music of that KRS album are… well, pretty angsty. Don’t get me wrong: I loved how Paper Chase-adjacent it was, maybe kinda sorta thanks to John Congleton’s production, but there’s not much about it that felt very “subtle.” It was an indie-fied Hole album.

In the wait for a followup to that – the ten years between it and Certain Years – I wasn’t hanging on hopes for any major advancement, necessarily, and I think the long gap reset my expectations to zero. So: I don’t think my response to the very acoustic, plunkingly pretty songs of this album is because it’s not Parasiticide pt. 2, especially with the sidestep to Duets inbetween hinting at this. Rather, my response is to how little this album seems to offer in terms of substance beyond its general tone. A few spins in, I can’t really get what Fraser was after, except maybe mood-setting, as told by the open-expanse photography on the covers. But my issue then is that the mood doesn’t vary, nigh the whole way through.

The bookends are more of what I wish was offered: the lyrics of opener The Darkness of My Night suggest a maturation in Shelly’s writing, blending the naturalistic vibe of those aforementioned photos with musings on how hauntingly lonely life can be… With how ethereal Fraser’s layered vocals sound, and the gentle pace of this song and the record in general, that’s a powerful combo. Ahem, this song happens to be a Donovan cover. Unfortunately, for the most part thereafter, we don’t really achieve that synthesis of feelings.

To be fair, I don’t have a lyric sheet for the songs, but it feels like a lot of repeated phrases, and what I could pick out came across more as isolated imagery, which certainly fits within the framework of that Donovan song, but in a much less expressive fashion. The music is mostly carried by Fraser’s voice, layered and layered atop itself, and sung slowly and passionately, like a religious hymn. There’s a drone aspect there that works, but that’s where I become conflicted: there are instruments, and there are melodies and I think there are further lyrics, but they’re very, very buried behind this top layer of vocals, which has the effect of making every song sound and feel roughly the same. Even when other instruments (synth, moog, etc.) make more of an appearance, they’re so far in the distance as to be rather irrelevant, whether on headhones or over speakers. The other bookend, the concluding Waking, then makes clear that this seems to have been a conscious choice, as it’s the only track really balanced to bring out the other contributors, allowing us to hear a verse-chorus-verse structure in the words as well.

There’s very much something here, I’m just unable to find it for myself, and the presentation makes me unsure what Fraser’s intention was as well – how I’m supposed to “hear” it. But given that this was a small, self-released deal, perhaps it’s all more personal than that. It’d be interesting to hear some followups to understand more context, but we have a few more years – it’s 2023 right now – until another decade has passed to perhaps check in again.