You never knew you needed something that bridged the gap between Villagers and Don McLean, did you? Nor that there even was a gap between them (the passing of time notwithstanding). Why do people even say that, in fact? It makes no sense. Yet somehow, on this occasion, it kind of does. To me, anyway.
New Jersey musician Matt Longo, whose alias is Thin Lear, does possess a voice somewhat akin to the former band’s Conor O’Brien, albeit far less harsh, while the lyrics certainly sent me back to a golden of era of songwriters from the late sixties and early seventies, with much of Many Disappeared steeped in tragedy but delivered with the kind of melancholy that is pretty and whimsical rather than anything approaching depressing.
There are only ten songs in this album but that is very much to its benefit, as each one of them tugs gently at your heartstrings, sometimes with yearning and sometimes with what feels like a loving nudge that says “Come on, we’ll get through this together.” In fact, there is an innocent charm which permeates the record, that recalls the earlier, folkier stylings of Marc Bolan. Then you’ve got the fanciful swagger of ‘Mattoon‘ – a breezy, gorgeous number that owes as much to Paul Simon as it does to The Everly Brothers. Perhaps even Bowie, by the time it ends.
Many Disappeared opens with the quietly devastating ‘Silver Bridge‘ which tells you everything you need to be prepared for in its first couple of verses: “Had a brother up in Milton / It’s been ten months since I lost him / Kissed him at our mother’s wake / Now I miss him every day / And I can barely read my own mail / I can’t focus on the details / Sit quiet after work / Wash the stains out of my shirts.” If that doesn’t grab your attention or make some kind of impact on you, what kind of a human being are you? If indeed you are one at all.
A concept album of sorts, the record focuses upon the supernatural, and its ultimate uselessness, even if we do utilise such a tool in a way to get us through grief and other testing times in our lives: “I need something supernatural to wrestle with, just to understand my own earthly troubles” says Matt, and that is surely something we can all relate to.
That’s not to say that Many Disappeared is entirely made up of tales of woe or anything like that. Far from it. ‘Buddy‘ for instance is a lovely, tender encouragement for a friend to start getting their life back on track after what seems to have been a calamitous body blow in their life: “Buddy, you stick close to me / In the end you won’t be as low as you are / It’s only an old time, you see / And that’s all it can be / For palace or bar / But man, it can drag you so far.“
Sad, but ultimately gorgeous, Thin Lear’s second proper full-length album is a hushed but strangely uplifting work of art.
Many Disappeared is out now on First City Artists.
