Giant Sand – Is All Over the Map
Anyone even remotely familiar with the Giant Sand story knows what to expect by now. Howie Gelb and his ever-evolving collective of players continue to dance playfully around the periphery of American songcraft, prolifically delivering platters that veer from beatific to self-indulgent to ramshackle, taking in everything from bent Neil Young & Crazy Horse shadings to surreal cocktail balladry.
Their latest describes itself with its title. It’s a snapshot of Gelb and crew meandering through vintage-style ragtime, spare tumbleweed folk, parched acoustic blues, even French sidewalk cafe jazz (“Les Forcats Innocents”). Willfully obscure, eclectic to a fault, Giant Sand rarely sustain much of their early visceral roar these days, instead retreating to the shadows, painting impressionistic, mostly downcast nonlinear narratives.
Sometimes this can make for works of grandeur, as on “Hood”, a sly, lowdown tune that doubles as subtle social commentary and wry slice-of-life observation (“The way I feel about the brotherhood/Has got me feeling down, and up to no good,” Gelb sings in a sleepy drawl), building to a brilliant if muted crescendo.
Other times, listeners will throw up their hands in exasperation — as with a wacky, disembodied tribute to the Sex Pistols called “Anarchistic Bolshevistic Cowboy Bundle”. “NYC Of Time”, a rambling near-pop gem with spiky guitars and a cascading melody reminiscent of Richard Buckner’s recent work, leaves the biggest impression. With its careening feedback and ruminations on ethereality, it benefits from a modicum of focus and structure.