HOPE FOR AGOLDENSUMMER, "I BOUGHT A HEART MADE OF ART IN THE DEEP DEEP SOUTH"

Hope for AgoldensummerEvery year I hope that there will be at least one record that I'll fallin love with. I pine for the kind of record I'll want to put in theplayer every time I sense that I'm around speakers or a pair ofheadphones; the kind of record that I'll wear out from constant abuseand wind up buying again and again; the kind of record I want to giveeveryone I know as a gift for no other special occasion than just beingalive. It's rare that such a record comes along and usually at the endof the year I'm left making year-end lists and voting in polls foralbums that were great, or fun, or inventive but not quitelife-changingly beautiful. There aren't many records that make me wantto re-evaluate my beliefs about music and about people, and even fewerthat manage to transcend all the mess of a music industry full of emptypromise promo sheets and groundswells of hype. Thankfully as the yeardraws to a crisp wintery close, I've found a record that does. Hope ForAgoldensummer hails from the deep south and the music they maketogether oozes the rustic, porch-swing spirituality that one mightexpect, but with uncommon grace and warmth. It would be easy to play incliches and revive the jug band for the Converse and hoodie-wearingindie set, and someone somewhere is no doubt trying to get that towork-but that's not what Hope is about. Principal songwriter and freespirit Claire Campbell anchors the group with a soaring, soulful voicethat is comforting even as it's aching. Her sister, Page, harmonizesand occasionally takes the lead with a deep voice so strong yet sonearly ready to break that I find it impossible not to want to singalong just to make sure that the songs keep going. And while the voicesand the words are undoubtedly the stars, the accompaniment of cello,slide guitar, accordion, and a simple brushed drum kit is sparse but soincredibly perfect that it makes me wonder how the songs could havebeen written any other way. Drummer Jamie Shepard's enormous bass drumgives the songs a deep, dusty and hollow heartbeat of a rhythm whilethe simple glockenspiel melodies and spaghetti western guitars give theotherwise authentic, down home atmosphere a hint of something bigger.This is family-made music, right down to the honest-to-goodness sisterswho sit and sing and bring audiences to tears, and it follows in thatvividly southern tradition of families gathering around to sing andcommiserate and tell stories set to song. Heart of Artis a slow, almost mournful album full of songs about loss and regretand shame and yet it winds up being celebratory in its belief thatmusic is strong enough medicine to cure any ill. Like an album ofmurder ballads where the only cause of death is a broken heart, therecord keeps finding new ways to pull at the deep, recessed, cynicalheartstrings until the only way to beat Hope is to join them. Whenpeople who never appear to suffer try to craft songs that are upliftingand hopeful, it always seems too glossy and too strong to meananything. These songs acknowledge the pain and the anger and thehurtful, hateful things that people can do, but somehow the songs carryon, the musicians carry on, and as a listener, I carry on because Ibelieve in where we are all headed. When the whole band sings "we cometogether/ and we work/ and we fall apart/ I play music because I'm inlove with silence and sound," during the triumphant album closer,"Laying Down the Gun," it's impossible to resist the thought, the hopethat music really is a magical tonic for all that ails you. I'm findingnew songs to fall in love with every time I listen to this record, andnew, unexpected moments of clarity and insight. Most of all, I've foundthe record this year that reaffirms my faith in music, my love formusic; it's the record that reconnects me with other people through thesimple tradition of song, and for that I'll be forever thankful.
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