I suppose it's a case of stating the obvious, but it never ceases to amaze your reviewer the way the internet can introduce you to music you'd probably never have come across otherwise. Whatever the highway's downsides may be, this function is a precious thing and when it throws an album such as "Fastest Machine" by DAVID SMITH at you....well, you feel truly blessed.
A couple of weeks ago, I hadn't the faintest who David Smith was, or that he'd just released his debut solo CD, "Fastest Machine". Turns out he grew up in Philadelphia and has already suffered the industry's slings and arrows during his time fronting the band Standing Wave. After the band's management and personnel unravelled, he found himself in Santa Fe, New Mexico, wondering what to do next. Thankfully, he drew upon his experiences and took the plunge with a solo album, going on to wing it W&H's way on completion.
Am I glad he did, because "Fastest Machine" is a gloriously understated, emotional treat from the US midwestern heartland. It's steeped in experience, loss,sadness and a warm grace not dissimilar to near-ish midwestern neighbours The Belles and simply captivates from start to finish.
"Cheap Seats" is a great start. Producer Simon Widdowson (The Decemberists) has helped David plump for a slightly vulnerable semi-acoustic backdrop to his songs, and here Smith's voice is pretty, emancipated and naturally melancholic as he produces a lovely, forlorn anthem. "Don't you wanna be a star, don't you wanna leave the cheap seats where they are?" he strains at the chorus, sounding like he's trying to convince himself as much as his public.
Excellent stuff and he hardly harms himself by following it up with "Crush And Flow", by some way the most upbeat the album gets, with huge, live drums from Jason Bedard lifting a tune that's big on bounce and atmosphere anyway. Widdowson makes like Martin Hannett with some strategic ambient embroidery and Smith relates great lines such "You look at me like you're caught in the headlights" with the frustrated relish of a young Mark Eitzel.
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Hardly a foot is put wrong as the album develops. The title track is insistent and hypnotic, with flecks of piano and a further ambient patchwork. It's lovely, yearning gear, vaguely reminiscent of early Bowie (a fact reinforced by the very "Five Years"-style drum pattern tattooed out by Bedard), while the way the harmonica drifts in is a wonderful surprise. "Construct" again quietly recalls early, folkier Bowie (roughly circa "Hunky Dory") with ghostly, stillborn strumming, low-key loops and David relating lines like: "We forfeited our haloes, so this is what it's come to" before serenading us out with the lonely, echoey electric guitar.
Elsewhere, ghosts of recent unsung heroes flit in and out of Smith's muse. Both the pretty, but sombre "Losing Ground" and especially the slow, emotionally-blasted "Signal" recall Mark Kozelek, while the downhome acoustic picking and gentle, close-miked vocals of "Hopelessly Misunderstood" and the wistful postscript that is the closing "Just A Phase" summon (favourable) thoughts of Elliott Smith. The backdrops and vision are very much David Smith's own, though, and with Widdowson's intelligent, sympatico production spurring him on further he's made a great debut that keeps trickery to a minimum and shoves the emotional impact to the fore.
Coming seemingly out of nowhere to enrich our world and housed in a sleeve of understated confidence featuring a little acorn, "Fastest Machine" heralds the arrival of bona fide new talent. From here, David Smith's oak tree shall surely grow straight and sturdy.
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