Oxbow – Love’s Holiday

Ipecac

Oxbow singer Eugene Robinson‘s contention that “Oxbow songs are love songs” perhaps reaches its apotheosis here on their first studio album in six years and also the first for Ipecac.

Their reconvening finds them in robust mood with a touch of romantic disillusion, their tales of frustrated love and burning desire tempered by the reality of what it is like to really feel. The four-piece set up is augmented here by strings, voices and sympathetic production that draws a series of lovelorn vignettes from a band that are confident enough to play it extra hard when necessary and then dial back to a tear-stained throb.

The pummelling drums ad high pitched cheese-wire guitar of opener “Dead Ahead” is perhaps what we might come to expect. The deceptive bass and hurt, frustrated vocals add to a powerful and blasted start, a crazed tempo that reminds you they are always so closely in touch with emotions. You really feel that Jesus Lizard were listening in on their taut, rhythmic excursions, their balanced groove keeping the tempo breathless, Eugene’s vein-bursting outburst carried on a wave of adrenalin with odd synth prods lurking at the edges. “You don’t know how he turns me on”, he moans as feedback scree erupts around him.

It is an exciting opening salvo, but the icy synths and sepulchral crawl of “Lovely Murk” are its antithesis. A slow and sultry procession, the blue croak hesitant and soulful — “love is like a hunger when you are dying of thirst” — the dichotomy of sound with the waft of backing voices evoking an abandoned church, the protagonist cowering in the pews searching for a way forward. It is a grand and varied selection, the hurt in “1000 Hours” almost palpable, wounds being licked as a spiky, countrified guitar hovers.

There is more choral loveliness in the surprising piano ballad “All Gone”, its sombre tone suiting the spoken-word introspection. For the group, love is a thing of power and despair, turning you in on yourself, helpless and at sea. I think we have all felt that sensation of losing control, of desire gone feral and perhaps finally there is a suite of songs that can describe that mood in unflinching detail.

There is a lovely Spanish guitar / electric guitar interface on “The Night The Room Started Burning”, with my favourite couplet “we were somewhere we had always been / completely lost and dusted”, while violin adds to the frosted charms of “Million Dollar Weekend”, its poetry delivered in such a resigned manner, reflected back on the instrumentation which attempts to show way out. It feels like a battle of wills, with the violin both referee and cheerleader. “The spoons tap against the cup side, in time with our lies” is a lovely example of how the poetry here is simple and affecting but always accompanied by the right musical tone.

Closer “Gunwale”, with its swollen backing chorus, is a sail-filled drama; a slow, stately vessel heading into the distance on a swell of hope, but ever in danger of becoming becalmed. Guitar strokes linger in the salty air for longer then seems possible, pushing the voice into another realm. I was reminded of another doomed romantic, Simon Bonney and there is something in some of this album that sits comfortably beside Crime And The City Solution.

The power, the despair and the musical union is so strong here. I confess I haven’t listened to Oxbow for many years, but on the strength of Love’s Holiday, I will be trawling the back catalogue. This is a truly awesome set that demands and I mean demands repeated listens. To paraphrase Lloyd Cole, be ready to be heartbroken.

-Mr Olivetti-