Smokey Proves, His Weirdness Prevails

To say Devendra Banhart’s newest album is eclectic wouldn’t suggest anything unexpected, given the eccentric artist’s atypical revamping of the folk genre. From a musician who has been accredited to the New Weird America Movement, along with artists like Jana Hunter, Six Organs of Admittance, We the Royal, and Jack Rose, you can expect nothing but a genre-hopping album with its own quirky sensibility.

Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon, Banhart’s newest release, both fulfills and denies these expectations. By recycling his vintage influences Devendra Banhart creates an album with a surprising maturity in its production, compared with the lighthearted, free style of Cripple Crow. More importantly, Smokey proves that when the novelty fades, Banhart’s bizarre breed of folk rock seems to resonate with a variety of influences, without being buried in any one.

After spearheading 2004’s The Golden Apples of the Sun compilation along with CocoRosie, Iron & Wine, and Joanna Newsom, Devendra Banhart gained notoriety as one of the authors of the New Folk genre. His previous releases, including Cripple Crow and Nino Rojo, have followed suit, although Banhart shirks his Freak-Folk title in favor of his own label, “Naturalismo.”

In Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon, the only label that seems to apply is the latter. Unlike his previous albums, which took Naturalismo to a primal simplicity, Smokey has a sort of understated refinement, using production to create a more antique mood. The whole album echoes like old vinyl playing from another room, with the unobtrusive power of Banhart’s vocals ranging from big band to old country western. Beginning with “Cristobal,” a soft, Spanish-guitar ballad bolstered with brass and orchestral accompaniment, the album develops into what could easily be the soundtrack to an art-noveau film.

Growing up in both Caracas, Venezuela and Los Angeles, California, Banhart is no stranger to the Spanish music tradition he employs. Tracks like “Cristobal,” “Carmensita,” and “Samba Vexillographica” sound like a luxurious accompaniment to drinking mojitos on the coast of South America. The big band sound of “Samba,” sustained by heavy brass and Banhart’s powerful, airy vibrato, reverberates against the jungle sounds that follow, creating a lighthearted blend of elemental and refined. “Rosa” sets the mood with similar subtlety. Sultry and eerie, “Rosa” slinks along like a tango, with a faint drumbeat, classical piano, and a quiet passion in the harmony.

The really unexpected quality in Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon is in its far from innocent flirtation with a score of styles. Because Banhart’s voice can carve a niche from country to funk, each track comes off as an authentic piece of his history, rather than a disjointed compilation. He can just as easily testify, with a full choir, to the church organs in “Saved” as he can ramble along with steel guitar and woodblock tempo in “So Long, Old Bean.”



“Sea Horse,” one of the notable tracks of the album, is more of a bastard child of Miles Davis and The Doors, if Jim Morrison voiced his longing to be a sea creature. The propelling jazz tempo and breaths of organ and flute gives way to the clean guitar riffs that could easily be sidled with any classic rock legends. Rather than attempt to master the many genres present in Smokey, he presents caricatures of them; the pumped-up James Brown funk “Lover” and the malt shop ballad “Shabop Shalom” proves Banhart hasn’t lost his lighthearted sensibility.

Those expecting a continuation of the Cripple Crow folk style can find traces of Banhart’s organic origins, but may, in the end, be disappointed. Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon reflects the expansion of Devendra Banhart’s Naturalismo brand of folk rock. Through classic elements, Banhart creates an album with layers, sophisticated in its construction, modestly executed with a simple, effortless appeal. If anything, Smokey proves to Banhart’s listeners what they already knew: to expect nothing but the unexpected.

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