by Jeremy Leasure (@jeremyleasureart)
The history of rock and folk music is littered with disaffected poets, whose lineage branches out in knotty and unique directions, of which some fair better than others. Listening through Dark Tea’s new eponymous record, though, I hear an individual tapped into tradition without the reverence that could inhibit them from self-actualizing their art.
Starting off the record is the less than sober country tune, “Tears Down the Road,” which sets the tone for an album of pensive reflection and keen observations on latter-day American life. Gary Canino, the sole Dark Tea member, opens the record, singing, “You lost the plot, the bottles full, from the tears running down the road.” You get the feeling these lines could be about a specific individual or the world at large. The beauty in Canino’s lyrics lies in how explicit yet ambiguous they can be. At times they can recall the casual nature of David Berman or the fragmented storytelling of Bill Calahan. “Tears Down the Road” alone has lines referencing astrology “Trying hard not to pick a fight with a broken down air sign” and casual sports analogies “thinking back on the free-throw line of those southwest desert nights”. The song effectively prepares you for the remaining 39 minutes of free-associative open road dialogues.
I get the sense that Dark Tea works in more cinematic terms than your typical folk or rock group would. Each song on Dark Tea works through its dream-like logic and abides by its own set of rules. Any given track is likely to unfold a new and mysterious world distinct from previous ones. There is a vast number of instruments ranging from barroom piano, trumpets, pedal steel, and even some Kraftwerk indebted keyboard wizardry. With more than twenty individual players on this record, it is an accomplishment that Canino could wrangle the various moving parts. All of which lends a feeling of intentionality and auteurship to the proceedings. Operating almost as a director presenting a series of short films or an author’s short story collection.
Highlights include the first single, “Highway Mile,” which lands somewhere between Stoned and Dethroned era Jesus & Mary Chain and an old Burt Bacharach tune, complete with trumpets and staccato violins propping up Canino’s declarations of societal disaffection. Lyrically Canino works on a gut level. Less a narrative than isolated fragments on the push and pull of technology and intimacy; “Made a deal in heaven for my privacy, Great escape from the tapes with no hint of my misery, Golden Californian, TV with no volume”. There is an almost Paris, Texas-eqsue sense of ambiguity and space.
There is also a consistent undercurrent of political unease throughout the record, notably in “U.S. Blue, pt. 1,” and “U.S. Blue, pt. 2”. The instrumental “pt. 1” establishes a buoyant minor-key keyboard jam that sets the stage for the disparate thoughts on late-stage capitalism in “pt 2”. We get yoga essentials and Burger King slogans “Foam roller life, Have it Your Way” and climate change “Shielded from torrents of Texas rain” cohering into a chant of “U.S. Blues” ad infinitum by the end. It’s one of those songs that you might find different meanings from in every listen, much like the changing identity of the titular country over time.
Eventually, Canino leaves us with “Finally On Time,” a song of vulnerability, longing, and comfort. Over a gentle piano, soft rock music reminds us to hang in there, regardless of how bad the world gets. Reassuring himself, he sings, “If you fear just hold on tight, Ignore the fear of the end times,” which is a pep talk relatable for far too many people in this last year. Amazingly, despite this album-length rumination on the pitfalls of modernity, the record ends on a positive note—specifically Canino’s belief in humanity’s capacity for change. Reminding us to shed the “gold-encrusted mask of this fine age, you burned it up, now turn the page.” These lines may have been written for himself, but they ultimately exemplify the best aspect of Dark Tea: its universality.