CD Review: Califone, Roots & Crowns

In its more organic moments, Califone's latest album, Roots & Crowns, sounds born out of some folksy, dreamy forest with its whispy vocals, harp-like acoustic guitars, and gentle woodsy bass clarinets. But lest you think you've got Califone figured out, the music will suddenly move from folksy to totally far-out, like a sci-fi jam band propelled by industrial machinery.

But while it's undoubtedly experimental, Califone's music is very easy to digest, because the jazz-influenced complexities don't translate into cacophony, so read more

In fact, the songs on Roots & Crowns are composed of relatively simple and familiar elements—tambourines, hand claps, maracas, synthesizers, guitars, woodwinds, you name it—and each one plays a specific, yet mesmerizing role. What's impressive is how the band layers these basic and accessible parts to create its intricate, overgrown soundscapes.

Then, there are the lyrics, which you hardly notice at first because the vocals are so subtle they're almost instrumental. But once you've had time to process the sound collages, you realize that frontman Tim Rutili is uttering rather stunning free verse. Consider this verse from the sparse ballad, "The Orchids."

"When all the numbers swim together and all the shadows settle / when doors forced open shut again a flytrap and a petal / my eyes burn and claws rush in to fill them / and in the morning after the night I fall in love with the light."

The words, like the music, are nearly impossible to pigeonhole, and one thing's for sure: There's no other band out there making music quite like Califone's.