by Christopher J. Lee
Tara Jane O’Neil is difficult to categorize beyond the usual conventions of being a female singer/songwriter. She is more than that simplistic assessment. Emerging from Louisville’s burgeoning post-rock scene of the 1990s, O’Neil started out as the bassist for the legendary outfit Rodan, led by Jason Noble and Jeff Mueller, and went on to establish Retsin with Cynthia Nelson after Rodan broke up in 1994. Since 2000, O’Neil has released a dozen solo LPs, in addition to collaborations and soundtrack compositions, each of which have pushed her talent as a multi-instrumentalist in new directions. Albums like In Circles from 2006 and A Ways Away from 2009 demonstrated an easy capacity to craft indie pop songs that were neither cliched nor willfully overwrought.
The Cool Cloud of Okayness conforms to much of her earlier work. Its immediate predecessor – the pandemic influenced, iPhone-recorded Dispatches from the Drift, released in 2021 – was more atmospheric and experimental with its exploration of synth melody fragments and mostly wordless delivery. Songs for Peacock from 2020, a collection of ‘80s cover songs for her late brother, also gamely ventured into bedroom electronica. In contrast, O’Neil’s new album circles back to her self-titled 2017 LP, Tara Jane O’Neil, and before, with classic elements of guitar, bass, percussion, and vocals anchoring its tracks.
The Cool Cloud of Okayness begins with the title song, and it is something of a prefatory ruse. It imparts a country feel reinforced by pedal steel guitar – a bucolic vibe that doesn’t characterize the rest of the album, which is possessed by a more urbane sensibility. The second track, “Seeing Glass,” sets the album’s tone more firmly with its looping synth melody and reverbed vocals. “Two Stones” follows, creating a melancholic atmosphere with singing by O’Neil that uncannily resembles Kim Deal’s. Meanwhile, “We Bright” has a post-rock, Louisville guitar sound even with its soft horn backing. “Glass Island” similarly plumbs a slowcore pacing in the manner of The For Carnation. The track “Curling” is a nervier number that induces anxiety, while the succeeding “Fresh End” provides release and reprieve from its precursor’s tension. The album concludes with the track “Kaichan Kitchen,” involving a lone, even mournful, guitar instrumental in the manner of Ry Cooder or Tom Verlaine.
The liner notes say that The Cool Cloud of Okayness was written and recorded during a period when O’Neil suffered the devastation of her home being destroyed by a wildfire in California and the long process of subsequently rebuilding a new one. She also describes the LP as being defined by her recording ensemble’s shared queer identity, which in turn explains why, in her words, this album “challenges any easy genre or definition.”
Returning to O’Neil’s origins in Louisville’s post-rock scene, it is worth considering how her ongoing catalog still carries the torch of experimentation for that increasingly distant milieu. Many of the musical acts from that era like Rodan, Rachel’s, Slint, June of 44, and Shipping News are gone, if not forgotten. Jason Noble died too young from cancer in 2012. Jason Mueller is seemingly retired. Though Slint reassembled for a handful of reunion tours, Brian McMahan’s post-Slint project The For Carnation has been dormant for over a decade. Britt Walford has appeared only occasionally as a guest percussionist on different recordings. To his credit, David Pajo continues to record and tour with different projects, as do David Grubbs and Will Oldham.
As noted, this scene was highly gendered, and, along with Rachel Grimes, O’Neil’s sustained presence is an important intervention in that perception. The Cool Cloud of Okayness is a reminder of her role in rethinking the time signatures and structures of rock songcraft three decades ago and the recurrent influence that period has had on her ongoing solo work.