An artisan-like integrity has been steadfastly maintained by The Milk Carton Kids in their latest album The Ash and Clay.
Fingers dusty and calloused, this buttoned-up duo from America’s far west continue to recover the call-and-response simplicity of acoustic guitar folk.
Opening with “Hope Of A Lifetime”, a tone of ambivalence is forthrightly established with uncanny interweaving’s of harmonic majors and minor hammered-on notes.
Such jarring dissonance is reflected not only in Kenneth Pattengale and Joey Ryan’s chords but also in their lyrics.
The pair are happy to play with the audience’s expectation of reverential-sounding titles (“The Promise Land”) weighted against the understated timbre of their instruments and vocals.
Applying antidotal irony where required, some clichéd themes cut through the smooth surface of this work.
From the Evangelical Americana, resurrected in the hick melodies of “Heaven”, through to a haphazardly augmented tribute to country in “Honey, Honey”.
However it is “Snake Eyes”, which is most evocative of in its postmodern pastiche.
Understatedly cinematic with its double-stop swing, the group’s homage to the western genre is obvious and reveled in, particularly when contextualized as forming part of the soundtrack for Gus Van Sant’s film Promised Land.
Despite their skeptical musings, Pattengale and Ryan’s sincere philosophical approach to folk guitar is what carves out a fine earthy balance in The Ash and Clay.
“Years Gone By” arouses existential anxiety in its eerie harmonies, while “On The Mend”, in turn, acts as a deadpan salve to the fragmented self which is painfully deconstructed throughout the course of the 12-track album.
In all its wholesomeness The Milk Carton Kids’ The Ash And Clay serves as a rustic tonic for the mind and ear of the modern-day listener.
