Blueberry Boat

I’ve had the pleasure of listening to The Fiery Furnaces’ sophomore album, Blueberry Boat, several times in the past two weeks. It’s nearly killed off music altogether for me. 

I’m not sure how Frank Zappa and Captain Beefheart fans did it in the 70s. Idea’s so fervent that they’re coming out of every quoin of every movement in every epic - and that’s just one of the 13 songs on the Furnaces huge, end-of-it-all followup to last year’s Gallowsbird’s Bark debut.

By “end-of-it-all” I basically mean that it’s all over. There won’t be a crazier, more rewarding listening experience this year. If there is, I’m dead - I just don’t think I have the energy. In fact, I’m still not sure that my ears (or patience) will make it through Blueberry.

Sole members (as well as brother and sister) Eleanor and Matthew Friedberger have moved away from their impatient folk approach to a more lush, impulsive, anything-goes style that recalls the headaches last heard while trying to make yourself love Trout Mask Replica.

The blistering guitar work is still there, as are the Midwestern coffee shop vocals and sweet melodies, but wait till you hear what they added. In the 60s, if you made a jump like this, you were automatically rumored to be headed towards drug rehab. The Furnaces’ plethora of idea’s are the real thing; while they are challenging and at times confusing, they always pay off in time. Every one of them.

The meat of Blueberry is built on five, eight-plus minute tracks that utilize several movements which often bask in their own genre-jumping glory. Matthew’s guitar goes from cerebral backing exercise to all-out, front-and-center, extended solos. Eleanor’s barrage of piano work, keyboard effects and sweetheart indie-pop vocals mark the arrival of a creative monster, leading her way through a seemingly impossible album intent on being catchy, peerless and formidable.

This is the sound of grad school. It’s nauseating. It’s confusing. It’s annoying and difficult. Blueberry Boat is an example of a band with the confidence to try to do something that has never been done, and that’s a rare find. To most, Blueberry will be too much; to no one will it not be enough. This is the product of focused excess. This is the sound of Midwestern progressive rock via New York City. This will not be where music changes for the better, and that’s too bad. That was going too far, but really, Blueberry is that shocking of a listen.

For listeners looking to challenge both their endurance and their tolerance, this is it. Blueberry is downright hateable and admirable all at once. Those who do click with Blueberry will very likely have a new “desert island” album on their hands. That’s the power of music this imaginative and dense with direction. Few people will love this album, many will hate it, but no one could have ever imagined it, not even Beefheart.   9/10

Written by G. William Locke