Raymond Raposa, under the moniker “Castanets,” makes country-folk of the most introverted and morose variety. His hoarse, Dylan-esque voice carries the pathos of a tortured soul. The slow-burning songs evince a bleak sense of desolation and anguish. And the rustic production shadows the songs with a bruised aesthetic.
On his third album “In the Vines,” Raposa continues to play the part of the weary troubadour with convincing grief. Raposa claimed on his label’s Web site that the album was inspired in part by “a Hindu fable about being trapped in an inescapable fate, with death and the limitations of our physical lives closing in from all corners.” Accordingly, the fatalism expressed throughout “In the Vines” can be crushing.
On the opening track “Rain Will Come,” Raposa, over a gently finger-picked acoustic guitar, sings, “So rain will come / So wind will blow. … So it’s going to be sad and it’s going to be long / And we already know the end of this song.” Although Raposa continually implores us to follow him into his world of depression, he delivers this meta-lyric with a sly wink. The song then erupts with enormous and chaotic squalls of Sonic Youth-worthy feedback, sending the song into drastically unexpected territory. Whether the ensuing cacophony is intended to elate or dishearten is irrelevant; it is among the album’s most arresting moments.
Unfortunately, while “In the Vines” features many other above-average acoustic songs, few moments compare with the rousing second-half of “Rain Will Come.” In “This is the Early Game,” Raposa conveys a deep sense of longing through multi-tracked vocals over moaning lap-steel guitar. “Strong Animal” benefits from ominous percussion, rousing horn-fare and fluid electric guitar lines, allowing a subtle and natural shift from the Castanets’ dark country. “Sway” is sparse and languid but features the album’s strongest harmonies on the chorus, with Raposa desiring to “Fade, fade, fade / Into the easiest night / The longest day.”
Oddly, the biggest missteps on “In the Vines” occur when Raposa veers furthest from his usual aesthetic. He dabbles with electronic textures on “Three Months Paid.” However, this doesn’t augment the texture in any meaningful way; rather, the electronics grate against the lugubrious vocals and taut percussion. While it’s difficult to slight Raposa for attempting to expand his sonic palette, this is simply genre crossover for crossover’s sake. Similarly, the incongruous electronic beat on the closing track “And the Swimming” nearly ruins the album’s most genuinely pretty melody.
Despite this, however, “In the Vines” remains another coherent statement in the Castanets’ catalogue. The album’s overall mood is captured most eloquently on “The Night Is When You Can Not See.” As interweaving guitars and piano flourishes flesh out the arrangement, Raposa sings, “The night has been so good / So good to me / But the night is when you cannot see.” With this, Raposa eschews trying to find any false sentiment of hope in favor of a calm and sober acceptance of the gloom that haunts him internally and externally. Within the melancholy world of “In the Vines,” this is all the optimism we can hope for from the Castanets.
““ Ross Rinehart
E-mail Rinehart at
rrinehart@media.ucla.edu and
LaRue at alarue@media.ucla.edu