by Nat Scholl (@nscholl99)
“Some people sure can leave a mark,” is a relatable and offhand little phrase; when sang softly in the wheezy but inviting timbre of Luke Csehak, the vocalist and songwriter behind The Lentils, it suddenly becomes personal and a little bit devastating. “Some People Sure Can Leave a Mark,” the fourth song on The Lentils’ new album, Ixnay on the Entilslay, is a sober and quietly yearning rumination about a connection that never blossomed. It serves in the context of the album as a beautiful centerpiece for a hushed and contemplative record.
Some Lentils albums feel stuffed and a bit frantic. Budget Alchemy, their album from early 2022 is packed with brash horns and violins, and Csehak often adds to the chaos by belting, wrangling his distinctive voice into a throaty chirp. Comparatively, Ixnay on the Entilslay is sparse and gentle. The majority of its nine songs lull the listener into a peaceful haze with simple and repetitive acoustic guitar ideas with often as little as a shaker to back it up. The subdued instrumentation gives a heightened spotlight to Csehak’s voice and lyrics. Direct but never giving everything away, Csehak for the most part gives an intimate performance, as if singing to just one lone person in the room.
While on songs like the aforementioned “Some People Sure Can Leave a Mark,” the stripped down instrumentation is the perfect vessel for Csehak’s confessional storytelling, other highlights from the album make great use of fuller arrangements. “Hush Up You Hungry Tambourine,” a lowkey swinging country inspired song, feels the most like a full band cut and is a nice addition to the front half of the album. Later some clanky percussion and electric guitar successfully augments desperate and energetic pleas for a “Shameless Love,” on the album’s sixth track. However, at other points sparser arrangements feel perfectly tailored to bring out the most in the songwriting, like the mournful horns that underscore “Through a Green So Proudly”. Whether barebones or more dense, the arrangements that make up each track always feel purposeful.
Ixnay on the Entilslay is a restrained album that at times feels closer to a singer/songwriter work than earlier albums. The record, particularly Csehak’s delivery, channels the humane weariness of artists like David Berman of Silver Jews and Purple Mountains, while the eclectic arrangements, of which each song is filled out with different instrumentation, conjures the lo-fi charm of Tall Dwarfs. It’s a strong and honest addition to The Lentils’ catalog, that by toning down some of the frantic instrumentation of past efforts brings attention to what feels like a thoughtful, troubled, and still a little frantic inner monologue.