A Spirited Beginning

And just as you feel that your music became a bit stagnate, a band like Delta Spirit comes along.

I haven't been quite this excited about in awhile. A pinch of Dylan mixed with a sliced wedge of The Kinks and then sprinkle a bit of Vampire Weekend and you get this lovable, fierce rocket that calls itself Delta Spirit. Named after guitarist Jonathan Jameson's great uncle's business entitled, "Delta Spirit Taxidermy Station of North Central America." After a much needed shortening, Jameson and Brandon Young found lead singer Matthew Vasquez busking at two in the morning, and after exchanging information, was introduced as the lead singer.

With the pieces in place and San Diego as the backdrop, Ode to Sunshine commenced. What came out is something I can't quite put my finger on. Hailed as Americana/soul, the echoes of Dylan come rushing at a quickening pace. The fragility and determination summoned into an utterance by Vazquez is special to behold. And as light and airy as the songs feel, the weight and direction of Vazquez's quips can be heard no harder than in "People C'mon." The near frantic cry for soul searchers within the song should give any listener goosebumps.

Peter, Paul, and Mary come to mind only because as the beauty in their melodies became the driving force behind their success, they covered songs that had political weight. THAT to me, is the difference between Delta Spirit and other counterparts i.e. Vampire Weekend, Cold War Kids, and Clap Your Hands Say Yeah! Each song feels dramatically more important to the grand scale of things. And as they weave these songs that could quietly set any childhood memory, there is a certain grit that makes this lemonade bitter to consume quite so superficially.

"Trashcan" becomes the uproarious single that could get a paraplegic to dance for joy. Too much? Perhaps, but the ivory keys seem to take this skeleton and really get it moving. Almost vaudevillian, it screams to be the bed in Charlie Chaplain's world, or maybe in some small town musical. It feels the narration to some dysfunction family or Utopian world flipped upside down.

Beneath the infectious melodies, Vazquez sings of inner strength in his mother's departure and his tale of survival. "When my mother left, the bat was the only one here/He is the only reason I am still here." And through this retelling you become involved with his story and passion. In the tambourine-heavy track, "Streetwalker," Vazquez croons of darkness in every corner of the world to which he asks, "Why can't I feel for you?/They lie, what can I do?" The emotional brevity is almost too much to explore in one song, but somehow it gets done.

And maybe that's the thing that gets me about these guys. The bitter honesty isn't sugary. The stories are rugged and seemingly aged. Wise comes to mind and the songs support the theory that they've seen far too much at such an age. It's a dangerous sentiment to be compared to Dylan, but there is no contemplation after hearing, "People, Turn Around." The story-telling capability of Vazquez mixed with his emotional bravado cannot be mistaken for anything else than his best Bob impersonation. But I suppose if some carpenters can brag about choosing a career that Jesus endured, a little band from San Diego can try to find their own light, even when draped in such a tremendous shadow.

Best Tracks - "Trashcan" "People C'mon" "Strange Vine" "People, Turn Around"


8.5/10


This. Is. Truth.