Mark Lanegan is one of grunge's great
survivors. He survived the dissolution of his band Screaming Trees
without running out the clock on the divisive reunion circuit (not
yet, anyways). In that band he dutifully played the role of
under-appreciated frontman for fifteen years. As a solo artist he has
survived artistically. Since 1990 he has released no less than 10
albums and has worked extensively with the likes of Queens of the
Stone Age, Isobel Campbell, Soulsavers, and Gutter Twins. On top of all of that he has
survived mortally where many of his contemporaries – regrettably -
have not. So where does this stoic resilience leave a cult icon like
Lanegan? His name has become synonymous with a particular brand of
feverish 21st century blues, a style driven largely by his
formidable voice and imposing gravitas.
In 2012 Lanegan released Blues Funeral,
a record he described as being “self pleasing” and a reflection
on his music tastes at the time. Those tastes included early glam,
dark electro, and original goth and managed to alienate many people
who only knew him as “that guy in the No One Knows video”. In a
similar vein to Blues Funeral, Black Pudding is another vanity
project for Lanegan. On this album he is collaborating with English
multi-instrumentalist Duke Garwood. Garwood has worked alongside The
Orb, Wire, and Seasick Steve among others but has yet to really be
widely recognised for his own work. In a statement via Ipecac Records
Lanegan describes Garwood as “one of [my] all time favourite
artists”. This is a labour of love for one of rock music's most remarkable
outsiders.
With a voice and reputation such as
his, Mark Lanegan was inevitably going to headline Black Pudding.
Much in the way that Nick Cave and Tom Waits have become wilder,
woolier, and harder to classify as their careers have continued so is
Lanegan steadily making an argument for his own genre tag. But the
label on the package says Mark Lanegan & Duke Garwood and the
latter half of that equation more than holds his own. Garwood
bookends the album with two acoustic instrumentals – the title
track at the start and the nimble 'Manchester Special' at the end –
as an act of staking his claim to the co-headliner slot. These pieces
are every bit as moving as the soul-aching ballads from Mark. They
might stand out at first but echoes of their threadbare charm are
woven directly into these songs. The gently plucked refrain of
'Mescalito' and the emotive strums of 'War Memorial' bear their
insignia.
If you are looking to find any hard
rocking numbers to rise triumphantly out of the dusky gloom,
lingering reminders of a history in grunge and desert rock, then you
might be disappointed. Black Pudding is notably more folk than rock
and nothing as fallible as pop music exposure can lure it from its
chosen path. It may not move your body physically but the sublime
concoction of guitars, keyboards, drum machines, and that whiskeyed
voice might well move you to tears. This is a record to make you
feel, not make you mosh.
Rating: B+
Recommended tracks: Mescalito, Manchester Special
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