Withered Hand – Religious Songs
Somehow the EP name ‘Withered Hand – Religious Songs’ makes a sort of skewed sense when you realise that Dan is singing about masturbation and such like. It seems like withering might be the sort of inventive punishment our splendiferous lord gawwd almighty might visit upon the unclean and the self-appreciative.
Especially singing choruses like ‘How does he expect to be happy, when he listens to death metal bands’, and given that the man himself actually looks like a death metal fan, the alt-folk (or something like that) that Withered Hand play can seem slightly incongruous in some ways.
Musically, this is a pretty boisterously strummed bloke-with-guitar sort of sound, with plenty of folk chipping in with things like cello, accordion and banjo to bring texture and a bit of depth, and Meursault’s Neil Pennycook sings backing vocals. It’s quite a standard, unsurprising format in many ways, so what is it that makes it special in this case?
Well Dan’s voice has a sort of croaky, scraping charisma to it, in the sense that he would probably ask me what the fuck I was talking about with statements like that. There’s a touch of the acerbic social misfit about the lyrics too, which speaks pretty directly to everyone’s inner awkwardness, although there’s no apologism about this. It’s quite a solid, defiant sort of a record actually, and perhaps this settled base comes from the same place that has given Dan the focus to find a band, and a delivery and a format that he clicks with. Either way, if they can keep this up there will be good things coming from Withered Hand, so keep an eye out.
I Am Nothing and Religious Songs are just superb, and the EP can be purchased from their MySpace page for the generously low price of about three quid, I think, so get Paypalling.
Withered Hand – Religious Songs
Withered Hand is a dreamboat.
Everyone should own at least one copy of this CD.
At least.
I think I know own the minimum required number of copies. Embarrassingly enough, it took Campfires & Battelfields who, lest it be forgotten, lives in Virginia, to tell me to get off my arse and buy this. Just embarrassing.
Amen to all of that. “Religious Songs” is an amazing song. He played it at the gig he did for Fresh Air back in January, and it was the one song of the entire night that made me stop in my tracks and just lose myself in in the music and the words. It’s also fun to sing along to, in a rather naughty sort of way…
I should hope you didn’t, young lady. Filth!
Oh, and that’s not AT ALL hypocritical! You’re a regular Mr. Family Values and have never let anything vaguely obscene cross your lips. I stand thoroughly chastised.
Chastened. One would hope.
I love how Wordpress has picked something about a Gecko-controlled robot as ‘possibly related’. Possibly, lads, but highly un-fucking-likely wouldn’t you say?
I meant chastened. Stupid revision frying my brain. Is it summer yet?
Scratch that. We’re both right.
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/chastised
I always thought of chastised as meaning ‘told off’ and chastened as ‘taught a lesson in chastity/modesty/etc..’ I know that probably comes down to the same thing – the two words have the same root after all – but I think I might use them slightly differently. I was trying to make a little joke, you see. Hilarious, don’t you think?
Looking at the same dictionary (not the OED? Bloody Americans) and their definition of chastened, I’d associated chastised more with the first meaning and chastened more with the second, but that’s just personal preference I suppose. Gosh this discussion must be fascinating for everyone else.
But I only discovered Withered Hand because you introduced me to Meursault. So, in a sense, YOU introduced ME to Withered Hand. Also, you introduced me to The 63 Crayons, who are from Georgia, which is not very far from Virginia, although I guess Rich from Cable and Tweed introduced them to YOU, meaning that Rich introduced them to me. And therefore Meursault and The 63 Crayons are precisely the same band, both of whom are from Portland, Oregon. QED.
I thought every band in the world was from Portland, Oregon.
you hang up……..no you………………..no you…………….
The Kays Lavelle were shit.
hahaha. so much for sucking up. don’t think your plea worked either as nobody bought me a beer last night!
Cheap fuckers. Mind you, I’ve yet to get a pint out of this either. It’s just take take take with these people, damn their eyes.
if you are coming down tomorrow let me know. anytime after 8pm – buzzer broken though so you’ll have to call when you arrive and also not be allergic to cats!
I take umbrage, sir, umbrage! at your implicit suggestion that my fondness for SbT makes me gay. It does not. My undying thirst for man-love does.
So, anytime after 8. Got it. I love cats, so that’s no problem. Shall I bring fudge?
Only if it’s well packed.
I had a feeling something of that sort would be forthcoming.
You lob ‘em in, I’ll knock ‘em out of the park. It’s a festival of comedy here on SbT this afternoon.
Ooh! “SbT”! That’s new..
Is it official?
What, an official abbreviation? No. Show some fucking respect and afford this august organ its full and due name and title, you oikish riff-raff.