Critic's evaluation
A little less than two years after the release of A Smell Gravy, their last and most recent studio album, The Cumberland River Project have taken a new flight towards new material. Entitled Vain Regrets, the new material comes in the form of an EP and is the group's first extended play.
The sun is rising beyond the desert mountains, making the arid scent of this earthy, dry environment rise with its twilight heat. Even so, the fiery star has made the darkness of the night give way to a clear blue sky, providing an invigorating sense of energy. Along with the soft drum beat introduced by the programming, the bass comes trotting in at the melodic base, while Chris Kauffmann's guitar delivers a very welcome freshness. In the meantime, it's curious to see how the timbre can be enough to set the mood and give the listener certainty about the musical genre the song defends. Although the country ambience is already perceptible, when Frank Renfordt introduces his vocals, his low, breathy tone unquestionably communicates the folk aroma that is exuded in In Line. With a lovely swing provided by Reggie Duncan's lap steel guitar, the song's harmony is finally enhanced by the sweet softness of Jenny Sabi's backing vocals during the chorus. Mixing light touches of blues into its melodic recipe, In Line comes as a product that talks about a curious relationship with death as we get older. Inevitably, the time to pass over will come for everyone, but what Renfordt emphasizes in this storyline is that the listener should have no regrets, enjoy the present moment, not put off plans and, above all, appreciate the simple.
It begins with a sunny, swinging identity. Much of this essence is due to the striking sound of Francesco Renna's harmonica, which brightens the melody with its high-pitched, shrill sweetness. However, it's easy to see how the rest of the instruments cooperate to build a complete, bucolic and softly contagious harmony. Aaron Fabbrini's dobro brings the soul of folk with its extremely distinctive sonar. With the guitar comes softness and freshness. And with Simon Röll's drums, the song has an interesting rhythmic break, which goes from accelerated bursts between the bridges and the airy verses. However, what leaves Old Friend with a nostalgic taste on the palate is the harmony between the tones of Renfordt and Jessie Morgan. With the softness and delicacy that exudes from the synchrony between the singers, the listener feels welcomed and embraced, an effect that is also the result of an adorably comfortable base built by the delicately acidic sweetness of Sascha Miskovic's organ. It is with this breadth of textures that Old Friend matures as a work of complicity, altruism, humanity and sensitivity to the emotions of others. It's a song whose main message is the unshakeable strength of friendship, even in the face of time and life's conflicts. Old Friend is a contagious toast to camaraderie.
Its softness hides a latent melancholy that can't hide on the maritime horizon. And what helps emphasize this curious but firm sense of intoxicating sadness is the way Neemias Teixeira's piano is pronounced: sweet but tearful, downcast and even lonely. Maturing with a harmony that communicates a certain refinement of lamentation, Wish I Could Have Told You is the first ballad on Vain Regrets, but it doesn't have a romantic character in itself. It comes with a great deal of regret about what could have been done, but was reneged on. Painful, but not so visceral or stabbing, the song shows a heart that suffers for the separation and for the things not said, for the demonstrations of affection that were never made. Even so, the end of its plot becomes beautiful when Renfordt assumes that his heart is destined for the same person he had a relationship with in high school. A love that still lasts, but without consensual twists and turns. A love kept in memory.
It's curious, because you can feel the sand sticking to your suede boots, but at the same time feel like you're in a space environment. With a hypnotic and intoxicating keyboard provided by Dane Bryant, who manages to insert interestingly sci-fi doses into traditional folk, the song follows with a linear and slightly trotting rhythmic cadence which, in the hands of Wayne Killius, results in a good sense of movement. Hatching into a restrained chorus, without an explosion, but with an elevation in harmony through the entrance of Wanda Vick's dobro and the curious combination of Mike Waldron and James Mitchell's guitars, which results in an interesting lightness soaked in freshness, Mr. Spaceman becomes a striking song that manages to place the listener in the immensity of space, but with a certain degree of lucidity. Even so, the song has other important assets. In addition to its storytelling lyricism, Mr. Spaceman is highly critical of human relationships with nature, the community and everything that surrounds interpersonal relationships. A paradigm shift. Another point of view on the chaotic Coronavirus pandemic. A remarkable work by Vain Regrets that incites reflection.
It's born soft and with a calming essence. Like the velvet texture of a sheet embracing a body stiffened by tears streaming uncontrollably down its face, the introductory melody comes with pleasant, cozy sensations of comfort and, above all, compassion. Serene not only because of the softness of the guitar, but also because of the sweetness gently inserted by Damiano Della Torre's accordion, House On The Cliffs guarantees a touching silhouette also through the delicacy with which the piano notes are pronounced amidst the melody. Contagious in its almost linear cadence, the song, through its aesthetic semi-minimalism, completely transforms into something dramatic when Renfordt reaches the climax of his narrative. It's at this moment that the viewer is convalesced in front of the story of a couple who have succumbed to the economic crisis. A story that holds the attention of even the most inattentive listener.
The drums provide the movement. The harmonica, the shrill sweetness. And the piano, the delicacy. With this trio, Sweet Freedom's awakening already guarantees good harmony amid a curiously nostalgic energy that turns into an unbridled sense of freedom. It's like looking at a paved road in a straight line. Free. Empty. With only the blue sky for company. Fresh and infectious, but above all, spreading a latent and blatant energy of independence, the song has a striking chorus, mainly due to the impact words sung in duet between Renfordt and Jennie Sabi. Sweet Freedom is a song that, despite its structural softness, has a remarkable turning point in its history. After all, when it seemed to be a love song for someone rational, it turned out to be a relationship of overwhelming passion for something inanimate. That something is the guitar and music. A kind of freedom that was denied by the social institutions of marriage and work.
Fresh, sweet, contagious material. Solar and sweet. Vain Regrets is an EP that highlights the strength of folk as an element that represents the entire social strata of the interior of a country of continental proportions. Through its typically country sound, it brings the desert to life, cools the sky from the scorching heat and moistens the arid vegetation.
Among its six tracks, The Cumberland River Project's new EP is notable for several factors. Its predominantly soft melody is a detail that makes it accessible to the masses. The insertion of instruments typical of the musical genre it represents is its great charm. Accordion, lap steel, dobro and harmonica make Vain Regrets charming and elegant.
The harmonies scattered throughout its six chapters are an element that enhances both plot and melody. Always serene and sweet, they amplify the listener's sensitivity to each and every sound combination proposed by the group. But the lyrics are the stars of the party.
Composed entirely by Renfordt, each of the songs has a striking, disturbing and penetrating structure. Through his narrative structure based on storytelling techniques, the singer makes tracks like Mr. Spaceman, House On The Cliffs and, to a lesser extent, Wish I Could Have Told You unsettling because of the story behind the melodies. Old Friend makes the list, but not exclusively because of its lyrical storyline, but because of the combination of elements.
With an efficient team of musicians, Vain Regrets presents itself as a piece of material that manages to move fluidly between folk, blues and sci-fi experimentation. To ensure that each flavor doesn't get mixed up, the EP was mixed by both Renfordt himself and Dave Demay. With the help of these professionals, the EP was given the necessary treatment so that each instrument could be tasted both individually and as part of a collective body.
Rounding off the technical scope is the cover artwork. Signed by Dirk Schmidt and Frank Renfordt, it captures the soul of the EP. Not just for the simple reason that it features Renfordt, but because it's adorned with a shade of brown that communicates, in the absence of words, that the material covers a countryside landscape.
Released on 03/20/2024 in an independent way, Vain Regrets is an EP made by a competent team of musicians who transform folk into something charming, beautiful and penetrating. It's full of beautiful harmonies and well-constructed lyrical plots capable of making each listener create their own mental feature film.
