KISSS – Keep It Simple, Shelley Short
A Cave, a Canoo paddles upstream with little, but returns with a lot.
Shelley Short
A Cave, A Canoo
Released on Oct 13, 2009
Among her many talents, Shelley Short counts “hearing” as one of them. Perhaps this explains her ability to craft complexity from a whisper and a few plucks of a guitar string, but she also relies on the ears of her fans to deliver the message. Short’s style of natural, textured music is likely linked to her upbringing, living in a wood-heated Victorian home with a family who grew their own food and chopped their own wood.
Short is often pegged as alt-country, which is illustrated best on her 2006 release, Captain Wild Horse (HUSH Records), though she herself has disputed this tag. On A Cave, a Canoo, Short really leans more toward folk—with a wash of dream pop that begs a Mazzy Star/Hope Sandoval comparison—but on a sparser, backwoods level that is more akin to a contemporary like Alela Diane.
As you’re listening to the album, it’s fun to imagine Short sitting on a tree stump in her childhood backyard, strumming her guitar and whistling to the birdies. A bit unrealistic, but it helps with the listening experience, nonetheless. In actuality, the album was recorded in her home in Portland, Oregon (also known as Liophant Studios), and produced by multi-instrumentalist and visual artist, Alexis Gideon.
A Cave, a Canoo is an album of personal interpretation. Opening track “Canoo” begins with Short’s ethereal voice crooning about a party, unknown people, and hiding under a table—something any agoraphobe can relate to. On “Familiar,” a hypnotically foreboding upright bass backs her up, and it’s up to the listener to translate the line, “Since I met you, I’m afraid of dying.”
The single “Time Machine/Submarine” is really one of the highlights of the album. There’s a certain drowsiness permeating the song, which features Short chanting different choruses with a collection of contributing musicians. “Mockingbird” flutters in next and uses a hollow flute and eerie whistling in between notes while Short tells you to “Lay down your sorrow and cry.” “Hard to Tell” is also a peak; with its charming French influence and the echoes of an accordion backing up plinking piano notes, it sounds like an antique music box. “Racehorse” has an intriguing, plodding sort of vocal rhythm, as though paced to a horse’s trot.
A Cave, a Canoo is best when listened to by us anti-social shut-ins in a dimly lit room while it is raining outside. Yes, the album is slow and depressing—but all the better for it. All puns aside, A Cave, a Canoo doesn’t fall short.
High Point
“Time Machine/Submarine” highlights spaced-out guitar reverbs, understated organ, and singsong male-female vocals.
Low Point
“Interlude,” featuring Alfalfa from Our Gang (The Little Rascals) singing “(There’s a) Bluebird on Your Windowsill,” is cute the first time, but will ultimately end up in the recycling bin of this digital music age.
Posted by Leah Urbom on Oct 29, 2009 @ 7:00 am
