In Dearland

Elvis PerkinsElvis Perkins in DearlandI’ve angered my share of friends over the years while talking music, film and politics, but never so unswervingly as when the subject of songwriters comes around. I have this category, you see, called the Dime-a-Dozen Songwriter Club. Josh Rouse is on the board of directors, as is Damien Rice, Matt Nathanson and a fistful of others. Jason Mraz, Chris Stills, Tim Easton - you get it. Elvis Perkins, son of actor Anthony Perkins (likely the reason he scored a record deal), is a still-new member whose just released sophomore album, Elvis Perkins in Dearland, does little towards moving him out of the Ray Lamontagne-fronted club of handsome slummers.

It’s not so much that Perkins’ brand of live-in-studio Americana is bad as it is that it’s just nothing special - hardly better than Any City, USA’s best coffee shop regular. Opener “Shampoo” - comprised of Hammond B-3 swells, poppy acoustic strums, thick stand-up bass lines and plenty of harmonica - does its best to feel instantly familiar. It’s a perfectly strong track that brings to mind early Van Morrison and even Billy Bragg’s most recent record. Perkins sings about death (he always does, that’s his thing) and other dark Americana themes, never breaking the mold with his phrasings, word selection or even singing style. His writing and vocals (a tinge of Irish influence, but otherwise not so different than the folks mentioned above) cut it so straight that busy ears will find little that stands out. He’s improved as a writer and composer since his debut, 2007’s acclaimed Ash Wednesday, but the update is still far from enough to warrant the support of the usually reliable XL Recordings.

Unlike his debut, which was a true solo effort, Perkins is joined on Dearland’s 10 tracks by a proper band of players, all seemingly competent at their craft and all looking like wannabe Dime Club members. Together the band, officially known as Elvis Perkins in Dearland, create a sturdy collection of roots music that rarely gets rowdy, usually opting for a more moody, earthy sound. We hear horns, pump organs and banjos here and there, keeping the songs from sounding too same-y, even if Perkins’ vocal style begs for an overcompensating level of cohesion.

The rollicking “Doomsday” and Waitsian stomp of “I’ll Be Arriving” lead the way in terms of listenability, making a valid argument that Perkins could eventually put out records that stand above those of the average tunesmith. For now, though, Perkins is hardly - if at all - better than your favorite coffee shop hound. He has the resources to make decent enough records that will certainly see love from the Borders crowd, but don’t get confused, like the work of his fellow Dime club members, Elvis Perkins in Dearland will soon enough go out of print and be forgotten - a faint relic from the Wilco era of American music.   6/10

Written by G. William Locke