It’s cliché to say, but realistically, the idea of paying taxes to a government and how said money becomes allocated is a definite part of the human condition in most societies. Nations have been built, nations have crumbled, revolutions have been sparked, all based on the people paying their government to do things that they may absolutely not support. It is no surprise then that when Aranos takes on this all too familiar topic he does so at a roots level that eschews his sonic manipulations for a set of folk protest songs.
Rather than the studio twisted and manipulated approach to music he normally employs, Tax focuses instead on simple folk/blues guitar riffs and “Regular Joe” type lyrics. On “I Pay Tax” he begins by discussing his daily routine over delta blues inspired acoustic guitar before it hits him, just exactly how everything he has done so far is affected by tax. When he says “tax” it is with an entirely appropriate anger and vitriol that expresses disgust in ways digital media rarely does. This loathing carries over as he addresses the listener in the subsequent “You Pay Tax,” with a more jazz influenced drum and piano backing track.
Inevitably the source of where these taxes goes that becomes the target of criticism is military and war, which is where most of the remaining 2/3rd of the album becomes focused. The stomping, marching percussion of “We Train” outlines just how taxes are used to train the young men and women to fight, and how the same source of funds buys the “(b)est artificial limbs, best wheelchairs, best coffins” for said soldiers. The oddly up-tempo story of “Sargeant Zero” contrasts the odd percussion and piano work with the story of a young criminal who had the choice between jail or military service, and chose the latter.
The disc essentially ends with “I Don’t Want To Pay For War” which is akin to any and all of the so called “protest songs” of the 1960s, an up-tempo sing along type track that follows along lyrically with what could be expected based on the title. The closing “Bowling Along” track probably resembles what most would expect from Aranos based on previous output, a 11 minute piece of droney, electronically manipulated instrumentation that is quiet and meditative.
Throughout the disc, Aranos is more than happy to offer his take on various forms of roots music, “With Our Killing Costume On” resembles an Alpine drinking song that everyone in the bar could be singing along to if its lyrics were just a bit different, and the homily like vocals of “Padre Speaks” explores the connection between taxes and the church over a liturgical backing of harpsichord and muted acoustic guitar.
The trite adage about the only guarantees in life being “death and taxes” is seemingly an eternal truth that isn’t going anywhere, and thus this album is one that is both timeless and national. Conceptually, I’m sure taxes, war, and the connection between the two will be issues of social concern a hundred years from now, and I’m sure this album will feel just as relevant then as it does now.
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