The Craft of DIY - Paul Carr
13 June, 2013
Paul Carr – A true DIY artist – in multiple senses of the word - based in London. He’s studied painting at the Slade School of Fine Arts, collaborated with authors, musicians, and actors, and written his own short stories and publications. So, yes, he’s somewhat of a renaissance man. And his music reflects his introspective creations quite nicely, with abstract spoken-word narratives, home-crafted instruments, barebones percussion, acoustic guitar, and other eclectic elements. Thus far, Carr has released two CD-Rs - and The Soul Bellows – and now has a (relatively) new EP, The History of Aviation, out on cassette. Like much of his previous recordings, it’s a curious, lonesome outing, to a quiet yet off-kilter world salvaged from the past.
Each tune offers only a passing glimpse (roughly 2-4 minutes) into this constructed realm – but that one glance is telling. The EP’s opener, “I don’t like reversible jackets”, marches in to the beat of its own rattling drum, as Carr plays a sharp, snappy melodica. The track that follows, “Bruce’s Babes”, is perhaps the most melodic, and also the best showcase of Carr’s writing and songcraft. A eerie synth sound flows behind an oddly strummed guitar, while Carr speaks and sings in an alluring fashion. “Ian Breakwell” slides in on a sleazy groove, one that might be expected in a hip, jazzy night club – yet, the wandering keyboard in this track, which stumbles off-tempo at times, dispels that vibe completely. Add the odd, warbling synth loop and Carr’s sleepy account, and the tune can easily disorient the listener to the point where up is down and down is up.
The most abstract of these travelogues, however, is clearly the title track. Two sets of lyrics – one detailing individual pieces of architecture, the other cataloguing types of food – mesh together, over a steady drum machine, a clattering metal sound, and a tinny bell. It’s quirky, but entrancing nevertheless – plus, with the two field recordings at the opposite ends of the track, the listener does sense (or I do, anyway) that all these disparate elements fit within an actual environment, as alien as it may seem.
Two of the tracks – “Currys” and “News 24” – are instrumental. The brief, skittering “Currys” lumbers into life like a toy robot with a leaping chime sound, while “News 24” floats in with some mildly ominous keyboards (about as ominous, perhaps, as they might have been in an old black-and-white film). Perhaps these should “bridge together” the three lyrical songs that they separate; however, the segments do not gel together, no more than jagged rocks would stack up in a pile. But, ay, that eclecticism is the EP’s specialty.
Paul Carr’s tiny, intriguing world is a fascinating place to visit – certainly NOT your run-of-the-mill bedroom project. Stream and order the inventive History here.
Each tune offers only a passing glimpse (roughly 2-4 minutes) into this constructed realm – but that one glance is telling. The EP’s opener, “I don’t like reversible jackets”, marches in to the beat of its own rattling drum, as Carr plays a sharp, snappy melodica. The track that follows, “Bruce’s Babes”, is perhaps the most melodic, and also the best showcase of Carr’s writing and songcraft. A eerie synth sound flows behind an oddly strummed guitar, while Carr speaks and sings in an alluring fashion. “Ian Breakwell” slides in on a sleazy groove, one that might be expected in a hip, jazzy night club – yet, the wandering keyboard in this track, which stumbles off-tempo at times, dispels that vibe completely. Add the odd, warbling synth loop and Carr’s sleepy account, and the tune can easily disorient the listener to the point where up is down and down is up.
The most abstract of these travelogues, however, is clearly the title track. Two sets of lyrics – one detailing individual pieces of architecture, the other cataloguing types of food – mesh together, over a steady drum machine, a clattering metal sound, and a tinny bell. It’s quirky, but entrancing nevertheless – plus, with the two field recordings at the opposite ends of the track, the listener does sense (or I do, anyway) that all these disparate elements fit within an actual environment, as alien as it may seem.
Two of the tracks – “Currys” and “News 24” – are instrumental. The brief, skittering “Currys” lumbers into life like a toy robot with a leaping chime sound, while “News 24” floats in with some mildly ominous keyboards (about as ominous, perhaps, as they might have been in an old black-and-white film). Perhaps these should “bridge together” the three lyrical songs that they separate; however, the segments do not gel together, no more than jagged rocks would stack up in a pile. But, ay, that eclecticism is the EP’s specialty.
Paul Carr’s tiny, intriguing world is a fascinating place to visit – certainly NOT your run-of-the-mill bedroom project. Stream and order the inventive History here.