I came late to the BC Camplight party, only getting to know Brian Christinzio’s genius way with melody and clever wordplay through his last album The Last Rotation Of Earth. The melodies and intricate lyrical flows of that album truly mesmerised with every play. I’m pleased to inform that the considerable talent of this complex character has not diminished one iota on A Sober Conversation. All of the bells and whistles of sumptuous arrangements are present and correct, every note and beat played dropping with exquisite precision, by Brian, save for some drums.
The inspiration, for want of a better word, for The Last Rotation Of Earth was the breakup of a long-term relationship. Since that album’s release to critical acclaim, Brian has embarked on therapy sessions, purged himself of his addictions then set about creating this album. This time, we unlock even more of Brian’s troubled past as the focal point of the album is the abuse he suffered by an adult counsellor at Summer Camp in New Jersey.
Familiar percussions and oddly mesmerising bass lines pop a quirky undertow to ‘The Tent’. Brian oozes out a gorgeous melody before the nightmarish scenario of a panic attack is recreated sonically. He has an exquisite knack for writing these wondrous lyrics that opt out of any traditional verse chorus modes or rhyming convention. Things get wondrously epic as the instrumentation goes boogaloo and Brian is joined by choral voices. ‘Two Legged Dog’ shimmies along on a happy up-tempo groove as the merriest of melodies breezily skips by. He’s joined by Abigail Morris who counteracts the pondering lyrics with suitably cool responses. The tumultuous stormy passage of instrumentation drops into a lush swinging groove with swirling synths bringing a slinky sound. The arrangements are so smart with hustling and bustling dynamics constantly springing surprises.
Title track ‘A Sober Conversation’ documents Brian’s past life of insobriety with the usual dry acerbic wit. Where else would you encounter lyrics like “I used to pour Margaritas, give it a twist shake it around, but now I’m having dreams that I’m stuck in the trees and John Cleese is chasing me around”. The ensuing passage describing the outburst that “I don’t care for David Bowie” causing the Monty Python man consternation is lyrical genius.
‘When I Make My First Million’ sadly laments a detachment from reality and the hopes of clawing something back. Even when the music treads a downbeat path Brian’s voice and melody lines are rays of hope. “When I make my first million, I’ll buy my kids those damn football shoes” a sardonic poke at the price of regular things. Clearly influenced by the work of the late Brian Wilson the wonderful swell in instrumentation and multi-tracked voices is always a joyous sound. Nobody does it better these days. Chugging strings bring a sinister atmospheric to ‘Where You Taking My Baby’ before a glorious chorus wades in. Every play reveals more little embellishments such is the level of detail Brian applies to his music. The sequence where the protagonist Michael gets pushed and pulled infuses terror and comedy in equal measure.
The chipper ‘Bubbles In The Gasoline’ has a playful lilting groove that gives me visions of happy chorus lines doing the Charleston. It’s possibly a quirk too far redeemed by a beaut of chorus and when Brian’s joined by Jessica on vocals the melodies zoom to the skies. ‘Rock Gently In Disorder’ is a tender ballad that gets hijacked by a bombastic voice and booming drums. There’s a dreamy sequence that Neil Hannon can only dream of these days, as Brian croons about standing up in his class during Mass and “someone took it from me”.
Hazy synths and piano sway in ‘Drunk Talk’ as Brian sashays a melody that echoes classic musicals. But the lyrical hues are much darker than the light of the sweet instrumentation. He intones with heartbreaking melancholy “Isn’t it frustrating when you keep losing something?, honey you have no idea”. Closing track ‘Leaving Camp Four Oaks’ is an instrumental piece consisting of synths that sound like a very sick stomach growling while the sun rises in the sky.
As I found out from Brian’s last album, this is a very special talent who may never get the attention the music warrants. Perhaps financial gains would be gratefully received I don’t get the impression this artist would welcome too much attention. He’s grounded by having the ability and the will to write very confessional music that acts as a cathartic release. There’s a massive level of wit and sarcasm imbued throughout every lyric. I’m afraid I’m backing away from any attempts at analysing them too deeply. To do so will reveal too much about an album that you must absorb yourself, like taking in a movie. Despite the tragic circumstances, once again BC Camplight has created an extravagant and utterly enchanting suite of songs.
