The Wooden Sky: A Miserable Bunch of Bastards

By Braden Rosner

Man, this album is bumming me out.

Yes, The Wooden Sky is an awesome band.  No, their sophomore effort pitifully titled If I don’t come home you’ll know I’m gone, is not going to leave you feeling good about yourself. Pop an Xanax and find out more after the jump.

Behold The Wooden Sky, a greasy-looking, folk-inspired four-piece (which includes Gavin Gardiner, Andrew Wyatt, Simon Walker and Andrew Kekewich) that really isn’t in prettying up any of the messy details they have to spill. Translation: There’s a lot of pain and heartbreak to listen through here.

The album is a solid evolution of musical prowess from their 2007 release, When Lost at Sea. If anything, If I don’t come home is a much bigger album than anything the band has done before.  This time around the harmonies have plenty of girth and the instruments are tighter with a larger accompaniment of string arrangements. Meanwhile, frontman Gardiner’s quivering voice peppers the listener with a brutally honest, oft-kooky and catchy as hell selection of lyrics that make up the 13 tracks on the album.

Take a line from single “Oh my god (it still means a lot to me)”:  “I’ve been thinking about selling off every shirt I own/to stand naked out here in the cold/just trying to make it on my own”.  Anyway you look at it, that’s a cold vision–both literally and figuratively.

Moreover, the band evokes that universal nostalgia of simpler, innocent times that every twentysomething seems to hold on to. The more upbeat “When we were young” recalls dancing drunkenly in the street with friends. However, just when you think you’re wandering into happier territory, the boys stab you in the back with more tales of misfortune. Other songs, like “The late King Henry,” flirt with a gospel-like charm that somehow managed to fit with the album’s overall sound.  Overall there is a lot happening on the album–and it works.  The addition of piano, organ, violin, viola, cello, and equally folk-inspired instruments gives some real backbone to the tracks compared to the somewhat empty feel of their earlier work.
After listening to this entire disc,  you’ll just want to give  these greasy, road-weary canucks a hug.  You know, one of those tight hugs that say, “It’s going to be okay, pal,” without having to actually say the word “pal.”

I recall in my university days bringing a young lady I’d been courting for some time to check out one of their shows.  Long story short, she started crying roughly halfway through the set while leaning over to whisper, “It’s so beautiful” in my ear every goddamn time a song would end.  It was like the air became thicker in the place, the battered walls cleaner, the crowd quieter, the lukewarm Pabst sweeter.  Afterward, instead of partaking in the much anticipated roll in the proverbial hay, I spent the next three hours drinking raspberry green tea listening to the album while she talked about her problems.  Not exactly what my one-track mind had been planning.

The Wooden Sky can have that effect on people.  The folky undertones get under your skin and start pulling up all sorts of shit you never realized was even there.

Jesus, I’m tearing up just thinking about it. Watch this video while I collect myself.