Not raving but drowning? The nautical theme has come about almost certainly because of the underwater depths of that once-heard, never forgotten vocal (it’s Mogadon driven as an extra mark of respect) this is ABSENTEE front man DAN MICHAELSON’S first full length ‘solo’ output.
Coastguard duty is undertaken by several collaborative forces, most notably Romeo Stodart (Magic Numbers), Tom Gorbut and Henry Clarke (Rumble Strips) and Steven Adams (Broken Family Band), with Absentee ? Laurie Earle also involved.
The journey takes us all the way, sink or swim, from the pit of slacker decadence all the way to the anti-heights with all the cast-adrift speed of a concrete raft; it’s Michaelson territory alright! The almost complete lack of urgency is what might have initially disqualified the songs from becoming part of the Absentee catalogue, but that dysfunctional sense of resignation is heightened accordingly, along with the all-too familiar alcoholic kitchen-sink perspective.
Literally-titled, ‘Ease On In’ sets A ‘can’t-be-arsed-to-get-out-of-bed’ precedent that prevails until the alarm call fanfare heights reached nine tracks/two cups of black coffee later as the dizzying ‘Your 2nd Man’ kicks in.
What happens in between? It’s an in-depth study of boy-meets-girl in real-life, in all it’s complexities. Contemplative to the point of obsession, resigned instead of angry, relationships go under the microscope rather than the hammer as the realities are thrown into direct comparison with our fairy-tale hopes and dreams.
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No love lost? There’s often no love at all, and that’s the deep down truth. But romantic love and friendships are complex thangs, and that’s something that does float across in the message as Michaelson strikes out frequently with a maturity that’ belies his comparative youth to explore the Bermuda Triangle of human relationships.
He and his lifesavers tread water to both the organ-grinder’s tune and the subtle self-aware sound of (Rumble Strips) brass during ‘I Am a Coastguard’ as lyrical gems float and sparkle:
“I was a hero ‘til I reached your door”; he sighs with trademark despondency. It’s not a simple matter of doom and gloom though - once he has you on his wavelength, the possibilities begin to seem endless
The bluegrass strains of ‘Old Friends’ are dampened right down to the crash of a cymbal, whilst the drama in ‘Bust’ is clawhammered out with delicacy and genuine feeling.
There’s no explosive departure from the Temazepam tempo though (how slow things get without stopping is nothing short of a miracle). Silence isn’t golden exactly, but it’s often the key to significance as the gaps get bigger and bigger.
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