Cass McCombs: Mangy Love

Cass McCombs
Mangy Love
(ANTI-)
Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

After two sprawling albums that pushed over 75 minutes each and were likely difficult for even Cass McCombs’ fans to absorb, the skewed folk-rock-pop singer-songwriter retrenches to a more digestible hour-long, 12-tune set.

On initial listen, the easy flowing tunes generally sound predictable; overly smooth and with a tendency toward almost schlocky, blue-eyed soul arrangements, complete with sweet background singers and occasional strings. But the devil lies in the details of McCombs’ songs. Dig down to the lyrics underneath the sultry R&B groove of “Opposite House” and find typically odd, even avant-garde ideas like “The ceiling’s on the floor/ Floors in the refrigerator/ What of the door?” waiting within. It seems as if McCombs is enticing us into his twisted world like the sirens of Homer’s Odyssey, only to have us crash on the rocks as his words drift around reality with meanings likely only understood by him. Still, it’s entertaining to muse on the significance of “Help me to remember to forget/ To forget what hasn’t happened yet” from the equally headscratchingly titled “Medusa’s Outhouse.”

McCombs communicates these concepts with deceptively placid, tranquil, spoken-sung vocals that seem to be communicating far less radically enigmatic phrases. Sometimes his subtle melodies find singalong hooks as on the soulful, light funk with squiggly synths of “Cry.” But once you wrap yourself around words like “No gold for bards/ No laurel enough to bushel into the bed/ You tell me one thing and do the other — that’s weird,” you realize it’s better to just go along with the flow.

As hard to fathom as McCombs is, it’s better to ponder cryptic, mind-twisting poetry than be bored by clichéd notions of love and loss. This is shrewd, layered music that demands the songs be mulled over and scrutinized; even if that may not provide answers to questions McCombs poses.