Sometimes, the DIY approach to recording will draw out endearing emotions that get overlooked on highly produced records. For instance, listen to Damien Rice's O - last year's breakthrough album. The lack of production helps draw more attention to the desperation and beauty of Rice's voice. On the other hand, when there's nothing to find in the music's simplicity, the DIY approach can become a disaster. Fortunately, Paul Westerberg has mastered the aestheticism of sloppiness.
Folker is Westerberg's fifth full-length solo album recorded in his home basement studio. Since leaving the Replacements in 1991, Westerberg has had a shaky solo career, but continues to put out solid albums (with two of them recorded under his moniker, Grandpaboy).
His latest style mixes the little bit of folk singer in him with the garage band style of his former '80s cult band. Westerberg's voice is run down and slightly struggling, which mixes perfectly with his laid-back, loose, rockabilly style.
Westerberg sounds like he went into his basement, strapped on a guitar, and lazily recorded some outtakes. But his "I don't care" attitude somehow makes the music better. Anyone can pop in the CD and listen to it from start to finish, just to have a lackadaisical beat in the background.
After a second listen, it's clear that a lot more effort went into this ragged sound. The lyrics deal with the uncomfortable life battles of an aging rock star. Westerberg's voice hollers in an untimely fashion with struggling emotion. The muffled guitars add to the inconsistent background noise. The various elements come together for some well-crafted songs.
Folker starts out with a pop-influenced jingle, appropriately titled "Jingle." Westerberg jokes, "Buy it now, buy it now, buy it now/ This is my single/ This is my jingle." This cynical perspective also closes the album in "Folk Star" as Westerberg sneers, "You don't sing for children or their parents in the nighttime in a bar/ You sing for yourself, you stand up for nothing as far as I can tell/ You used to be a folker/ 'Til you tried to choke her/ You're a folk star/ With your plastic red guitar."
While the album is book-ended by some good cynical folk-rock, the songs in between have a hidden depth to them. "My Dad" is an ode to Westerberg's father, who recently passed away from emphysema. In "What About Mine," Westerberg longs for a woman to rest her head on his shoulder.
Westerberg's Folker sounds like a Ryan Adams album, minus the obvious twang and the overly confessional lyrics. Westerberg's folky, alternative-country style on these songs resembles that of Nashville rock star, Bobby Bare, Jr. Folker is a good album - worth the $9.99 download from the Web - but it's nothing extraordinary. On the other hand, the album's not really meant to be life-altering or groundbreaking.
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