| Format: | LP |
| Availability: | PRE-ORDER |
The “Great Escape Artist” is back – no, not THAT one – dude’s dead! We’re talking about Papa M. And HE’s talking ’bout Harry Houdini – at least in the title of this record, anyway.
Yes, once again, after a gap of YEARS, Papa M just rolls up and shows us how it’s done. This time, with a fresh, fine and fat-assed set of songs. And just SIX of ’em! So you know they’re some groovers.
Sometimes you never know when it comes to Papa M and his ol’ left-shoulder angel (or is it right? We forget.), David Christian Pajo. After Slint’s disbandment, he whiled away the 90s playing with literally everybody who asked, pausing long enough here and there to start his own band, called M. One literally awesome single later, he tells us, “I have an album, but now I’m gonna call the band Aerial M.” Alright, okay . . . it’s early days yet – go for it! One insanely great album and an (also amazing, goddamn!) remix album later, he’s like, “The next record is gonna be credited to Papa M.” And there we were with a thousand promotional Aerial M beer mats ready to go – fuck! Ah, we used ’em to shim wobbly table legs and such, and gave the world the Papa M they deserved.
Two epic/classic albums and a forbiddingly large outstretched palm of singles (eventually collected into another epic full-length) later, David was looking a bit green around the gills. It’d been five years of Papa-ing off; time to do something/anything else for awhile. Okay, fine. Let us know. And twelve long years go by before he sends in Highway Songs. Nearly did the label in! We put that out with the quickness in 2016, then A Broke Moon Rises in 2018. Seemed like things were looking up! And . . . nothing. Until last week, when we got Ballads of Harry Houdini, with a request to “rush release.”
Do you get it now, why we call him the “Great Escape Artist”?
Because when he’s not escaping out, he’s escaping in. Following the path of M records from Aerial to Papa, (the just-released The Peel Sessions excepted!) David recorded Ballads of Harry Houdini on his own, receding deep inside himself and taking the time for ideas new and old, from soup to nuts, et al. Having his fun before spitting it all out onto the world – setting down some tracks, getting lit, grabbing a guitar, getting a sound going, and soloing over ’em! With a bit of singing here and there too. Sounds kinda like gasping for breath sometimes, but we know Papa M better than that. Everything that’s meant to be in the picture is in there. The shit that isn’t, int't.
Frankly, the amount of hip-shaking sleaze oozing out of these pieces blows the idea that these are simple ad-hoc assemblies right the FUNK out of the water. Sure, when David does blues scaling, he sounds a little like Billy “I’m Just a Fool for Your Stockings” Gibbons. But then there’s the insistent torn-n-fucked delirium that’s accompanied EVERY Papa M expression into the marketplace (with pride) since 1999. As ever, it’s mixed extra-crispy, with earworms and easter eggs and lots of other surprising shit (like – spoiler alert – sweet peach colored vinyl!) that’s bound to change your whole personality.
And so it is and so it does. Ballads of Harry Houdini: it can make you dance, sing or anything. And you know what? DO try this at home. It’s dangerous, but how could it not be worth the effort? Or are you still living under the assumption that you might just live forever? Fuck that . . . .
