“Trashcan“
from the album Ode to Sunshine
2008
iTunes
The Delta Spirit‘s Matt Vasquez sings with an unabashed passion. On the barnstorming song “Trashcan,“ from the band’s independently released 2007 album Ode to Sunshine — which received a wide release last month in a remastered edition from Rounder Records — Mr. Vasquez’s alternating gritty howl and soulful wail ride a crest of piano, guitars, and percussion, something akin to The Band on an adrenalized night. Mr. Vasquez’s vocal charisma, equal parts plainspoken troubadour and skyward-reaching believer, has earned the Sand Diego quintet its “Americana” tag. He’s also the most immediate reason why the group’s chugging sound clings to the ears days after listening.
Mr. Vasquez sings almost every song as if he’s in a church choir, an energy that drapes a layer of blues over the Delta Spirit’s fairly traditional folk rock. And it’s not a shtick — the Delta Spirit is earnest above all. Its music unintentionally mingles two trends percolating through indie rock right now. One is a return to more traditional folk — minus the “freak” qualifier that is associated with Joanna Newsom and Devendra Banhart. The other is the conspicuous absence of irony, which has been a revered ideal since the Arcade Fire cropped up a few years ago sporting an avid sincerity. The Delta Spirit combines both methods into a stirring batch of rock that evokes Wilco circa Being There, even though Mr. Vasquez isn’t as enamored with psychedelic pop songwriting.
The band is more interested in the emotions imbued in traditional American musical forms. As such, Ode to Sunshine runs from such foot-stomping electric fare as “Trashcan” and “Parade” (a song rooted in guitarist Sean Walker’s gnarled riff), to gently galloping bluesy affairs such as “People, Turn Around” and the title track, which closes the album. Elsewhere, the band delves into slinky, funky folk (“Streetwalker”) and piano-driven, closing-time ballads such as “Bleeding Bells,” a lament that feels lifted from some obscure 1960s Western.
Musically, the Delta Spirit cranks out an immediate rush, guided by Mr. Vasquez’s passionate holler, that will sweep up any interested party. Just don’t pay attention to what he’s saying. Lyrically, the group aims too much for the ambiguous profundity that mars a lot of contemporary sacred music. “If you’re feeling what I’m feeling c’mon / All you soul searching people c’mon” is as deep as “People C’mon” gets. There’s nothing wrong with belief in song — it’s only been around since people started singing — but uncertain coyness feels insincere when wrapped in the Delta Spirit’s music, which so reverentially conjures the emotional authenticity of the traditions that inspired it.