Will Schube is still trying to see California, but this is his world
Henry Miller once said that “Big Sur is the California that men dreamed of years ago.” While the internet and general 21st century tactics (let’s ruin everything good because we have lots of money and can do whatever we want) have taken away from some of this charm, Big Sur remains one of the few untouched gems the West Coast has to offer. Music and place are often integrally linked, but I’m hard pressed to find many albums as rooted in a specific time and place as the self-titled debut from The Range of Light Wilderness. The band turns coastal driving daydreams into something real, re-creating a world both idyllic and oddly approachable. The album, out June 24th via the awesome Gnome Life Records (also based in Big Sur), can be vaguely defined as the musical equivalent of magical realism, but part of the album’s uniqueness is in its ability to create a world both familiar and brand new.
If Phil Elverum’s rain-soaked Microphones project mated with the more whimsical Little Wings, the offspring might sound something like The Range of Light Wilderness. The band blends folk traditions with lo-fi pop, eventually landing somewhere close to both but not dominated by either. The band approaches levels of intimacy so tangible, it’s as if singer Tommy Frank MacDonald becomes a close friend of each listener willing to give the group a shot. Album opener “Magic Please” is a nice synecdoche for the band’s sound, as slow burning collaged instruments are accompanied by wispy, delicate voices. There’s a sort of mysticism within the band’s music—both lyrics and instruments—that approaches the magic made famous by K Records in the late 90s/early 2000s. But while bands like Little Wings and The Microphones were exploring abstract concepts such as the Glow and the Light, The Range of Light Wilderness are after something more intimate and approachable. The vocals smother in embrace, as MacDonald’s voice wraps its grip around the delicate instrumentals and refuses to let go.
Album standout “Under Your Spell” is one of the album’s few tracks that provides a little bit of bite or aggression; most of the record is content with simply sitting back and settling into a comfort zone. The drums drive and the sloppily played acoustic guitar gives the track excellent texture, while MacDonald’s voice is accompanied by a female voice, a trick the band often uses throughout the album. MacDonald sings “I’m under your spell”, and he seems to genuinely believe it. “Give Me To Nora” is another beauty, so delicate and tender that it feels as if you’re sitting in MacDonald’s bedroom as he performs the touching ballad. This sort of intimacy is one of the record’s strengths, but it’s this unrelenting exposition that also leads to the album becoming a bit much at times. Tracks like “Happy” and “Ohhiiiii” border the wrong side of quirky and come off sounding either lazy or unfinished. The album’s 14 tracks long, but it could probably be 11 or 12. That said, the majority of the record drowns the listener in stunning beauty and represents an unflinching reflection on the world in which the band inhabits.
