Acoustic guitars and drum machines make strange bedfellows. Usually reserved only for crude early demo tapes, the stringed instrument's warm, wooden sound seems at odds with the percussion's cold, computerized rhythms. On Michael Penn's remarkable debut album, however, the unholy matrimony between natural strumming and high-tech drumming results in a union that pays homage to old folk-rock formulas while developing a few new ones.
on the Tracks-era Dylan – Penn maintains a delicate balance between rhythmic pop and sensitive folk music, pulling off the perilous feat with surprising clarity.
Full of brooding lyrics about dangerous liaisons, March has a wintry emotional solitude that's rendered even further barren by the sparse arrangements, with Penn often just singing behind his own guitar and bass while sideman Patrick Warren lends subtle keyboard shadings. Roughly a third of the album is given over to these bare-bones musical treatments; the strongest of these songs is "Innocent One," a lovelorn tale sung in a bittersweet choirboy's voice that recalls the late folk singer Phil Ochs.
On the rest of the album, Penn uses various backup musicians to flesh out his sound, notably on the catchy subterranean lovesick blues, "Brave New World," and the revved-up finale, "Even-fall," which contrasts a lively frat-rock horn section against urgent vocals pleading for another chance at love. "Bedlam Boys" – a lush pop piece preceded by a haunting instrumental interlude – features Prince protégés Wendy Melvoin, Lisa Coleman and Boni Boyer and is one of the album's most polished moments.
Penn's music is right on target, with an unpretentious, earthy feel that's both intimate and touching. Penn's lyrics may sometimes verge on the cliché; but once Penn gets them tightened up to match the smart punch of his music, then he'll really be marching to a different drummer. (RS 566)
JEFFREY RESSNER
