He possesses the unkempt street-hustler looks of Vincent Gallo, thepsychotic vulnerability of Syd Barrett, the spooked lonesomeness ofSkip Spence, the instrumental dexterity of Robin Williamson, the naïvesincerity of Tiny Tim, and a voice that sounds like a cross betweenMarc Bolan's early T. Rex warble and the evocative wail of KarenDalton. After his superlative debut Oh Me Oh My...,many were quick to heap praise on Devendra Banhart, hailing the 23-yearold singer-songwriter as a peerlessly original voice. With such obviousmusical precedents for Banhart's intimate, acoustic songcraft, thisadulation seems a bit overstated. Despite what has been said, DevendraBanhart hasn't reinvented the wheel. He has, however, used hisconsiderable lyrical and melodic gifts to create a handful ofidiosyncratic recordings that speak volumes for his songwriting talent.Oh Me Oh My... was immediately distinctive not only because ofBanhart's quavering vocal delivery and incredible fingerstyle, but alsobecause of its willfully low-budget recording aesthetic; the songs wereself-recorded live-to-tape on sub-par cassette recorders, Dictaphonesand answering machines. Two years on, Devendra Banhart has achieved amodicum of success, championed by Michael Gira, with a home on hisYoung God label. Although Banhart and Gira could easily have opted foran artificially studied recreation of the low-fidelity distortion andtape hiss of the demo reel, the right choice was made on Rejoicing in the Handsto present the performer in a simple, clean studio recording. Thetracks on this new album sound every bit as live and spontaneous as theOh Me Oh My... sessions, but the technical advantages of thestudio recording highlight every velvety pluck of the guitar stringsand every nuanced vibration of Devendra's labored vocals. Because thesesongs are refreshingly free of extraneous debris and contain onlyminimal, unobtrusive backing, Rejoicing is a marvelous showcasefor Banhart's songs and performances. Each track is a miniaturemasterpiece; few exceed the three-minute mark, but each has theimmediacy and resonance of déjà vu, as if Banhart was pulling from somevast collective-subconscious archive of archetypal sing-along folkmelodies. His lyrical themes are fascinating as always, strangere-combinations of dime-store mysticism, humorous reverie and the oddfanciful passage of surreal wordplay. On the title track, he is joinedby the legendary Vashti Bunyan, the elusive songstress who recorded theacid-folk classic Just Another Diamond Day and promptly disappearedfrom view. Their lovely duet is an affectionate homage to the placidsimplicity of the 60's British folk revival. - Read More
