Review | French Camp – Odd Particle

Standing Room Only

Producer Jay Clifford once told French Camp’s principle songwriter, Owen Beverly, that it’s easier to write about a place once you’ve gotten away from it. Owen would prove the point by moving to Brooklyn and penning a track where he sings “I miss the south” nearly a dozen times. Sage advice, perhaps. But while Odd Particle’s common thread may be Owen’s pining, the undercurrent–the songs themselves–seems to want for little if anything at all. Perhaps for the first time Owen’s songs seem fully realized.

As much as Owen wears his southern heart on his sleeve, and though it was recorded in Charleston, I would hesitate to call French Camp’s sophomore release a southern record. At least not in superficial terms. The relationship between Owen & the south lies below the surface, and the record seems to find it’s muse in quieter corners like the dark, empty, summertime hallways of the band’s namesake (a longstanding boarding school in rural Mississippi), rather than in any desire to manufacture some Grammy-worthy hipster ho down. Owen’s past is represented, but not exploited, & the matter-of-factly and understatedly southern vibe is refreshing in the midst of an Americana revival.

I Heart the South communicates its fair share of homesickness, but it also reveals a greater context in lines like “Are you not lost without the North Star to guide you?” Combined with the decision to represent the album with a photo of the Higgs boson subatomic particle, you get the impression that a greater context is driving the band here, one that transcends Mason-Dixon delineations. The record sounds, at times, like that place on the horizon where outer space butts up against a far stretching cotton field. Southern, maybe, but distantly Southern. This is why Josh Kaler’s lush production makes so much sense here. There’s a not-so-subtle early Radiohead vibe that somehow meshes perfectly with Beverly’s Roy Orbison-style crooning, creating a rich soundscape that’s part Sun Records, part Curiosity Rover, and allows the band to settle on a very distinct sound that never feels retreaded.

Owen’s unique sense of melody shines throughout the record, & the band performs acrobatically around Owen’s voice, wherever it decides to take the songs. Indeed, through unlit minor key alleyways or expansive southern fields, the band makes it all sound effortless. Benji Lee’s drumming sticks out, particularly, as his odd patterns create the space for Edward Barton’s keys & Andrew Doherty’s bass to explore. In more conservative passages, Benji & Andrew trade off anchoring the song and providing subtle textures. When the songs break free, Benji allows the band to crescendo & collapse at will. And on more straight forward arrangements, Benji holds a pocket like a stubborn, slightly liquored metronome. The musicianship on this record is something to behold, & the sophisticated arrangements reward repeated listens without sacrificing the all-important first impression.

Here are a few of my favorite moments from the record.

Cover Girl is the most radio friendly song on the record. In some ways it’s recalls Roy Orbison’s Pretty Woman, only performed on a space station. (No charge for music video ideas, guys.) The opening arpeggio sounds like it’s being transmitted from space, & then the band kicks in with a tight acoustic groove that drives the remainder of the song. It’s not the most articulate songwriting on the record, but that only lends to the tongue-in-cheek vibe. To that end, Owen’s imagination is interrupted halfway through with audio from an early sex ed film explaining wet dreams. “Gee, our bodies are complicated, aren’t they, dad?”

In Day of Dead, Owen describes sleeping in a cemetery to reunite with a lost love on Día de los Muertos. The song begins with snarling chainsaw guitars which all but disappear by the chorus, giving way to an anxiety-inducing piano arpeggio. Elsewhere, plucked strings, distant backing vocals, & shimmering whole notes compete to create an unhallowed vibe. But the real payoff isn’t the spooky instrumental middle 8, it’s the dropout going into the last verse. The vibraslap was practically invented for this moment.

“Sometimes I look in your eyes & I wonder how many souls has your spell put asunder. Waiting for the flashes, I hear the thunder… too late.” Standing Room Only is one of my favorite arrangements on the record. Owen hangs on a steady, single note guitar riff in the verses while the drums & bass dance in lockstep, ornamented by distorted keyboard licks & electronic glitches that sound not unlike a countdown. Owen only deviates from his light chug for a harmonized lick at 1:55 before exploding into the second, soaring chorus, which recalls a space shuttle launching from Kennedy. By the end of the song, the guitars & drums are massive, distorted, echoing beasts towering above Cape Canaveral.

There are, of course, many more moments to mention, but I don’t want to ruin all of the surprises. It’s clear that French Camp have found their Nigel Godrich in Josh Kaler, & Jay Clifford’s mixing contributions are substantial, as well. (Clifford was responsible for some of Owen’s earliest recordings, as far back as 2001.) And while this record refuses to fit neatly into existing niches, it seems destined to find enduring cult status if not widespread success, provided it’s given deserved exposure. Fans of sophisticated pop/rock should find a longterm relationship with the southern sci-fi of Odd Particle. And I ain’t just whistling dixie.

Buy the record at frenchcamp.bandcamp.com.

Cover Girl

Day of Dead