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Compilations generally play one of several roles. Their most obvious
function, especially in the world of independent music, is as label
sampler, particularly in electronic music, where the label is often a
stronger "brand" than a given artist. Indeed, it's arguable that
Mille Plateaux, Compost and even Warp all owe much of their success
to various showcase comps they've released over the years. On the
other hand, the label-agnostic collection serves a more curatorial
role, bringing together disparate artists and tracks to highlight a
shared tendency or trend. That's precisely the role of Folky,
a fine new compilation from Germany's Spectrum Works label. Compiled
by Lars Vegas (of German downtempo duo Karma), Folky brings
together Les Gammas, Victor Davies, King Britt's Scuba project, Zero
7 and other electronic artists who flirt with acoustic textures.
It's arguable that French duo Air made Folky possible; their
debut LP, Moon Safari, utilized brushed drums, strummed
guitars and downy synth pads in downtempo tracks feathery enough for
Clairol ads. (Zero 7, who turn in one of the most captivating songs
on the compilation, have been compared relentlessly to Air.)
Interestingly, the duo forswore almost all their patently
"electronic" touches on their brooding soundtrack The Virgin
Suicides, and Folky follows suit: there's very little here
to announce it as an "electronic music" album as such. Zero 7's
"Monday Night" employs a treated drum track that's likely programmed,
but tracks like Victor Davies' "Lady Luck" and Leif's "Der Gute Weg,"
wrapped up in shimmering acoustic guitars and little else, wouldn't
sound out of place on a Nick Drake tribute.
"Der Gute Weg," written and performed by an intern from the offices
of the nu-jazz Sonar Kollektiv label, stands out as the album's
unexpected highlight, a three-minute haze of echoing arpeggio and
ambient noise, the kind of light-but-moody interlude Drake had
perfected by the time of Pink Moon. Most of the tracks here
hover around the three-minute mark, lending them all the same sweetly
dissolving quality. San Francisco's Ray Barbee contradicts his
reputation — like his colleague Tommy Guerrero, he's a former
pro skater — with a nimbly woven web of guitar plucking and
bossa-nova beats; no matter how tough the skin on his elbows and
knees must be by now, his song's about as rough as a kiss behind the
ear. Les Gammas turn in one of the record's darker tracks, teasing a
sultry tension out of a few choice oppositions: gossamer guitar rubs
up against heavy, spongy organ stabs, and Nina Miranda's wispy verse
brushes against a male chorus' husky refrain. "Acoustic" and "funk"
are not mutually exclusive terms, as it turns out.
And if you need something to keep you company on lonely days, Victor
Davies' "Lady Luck" ought to do the trick. Sure, it's a
cliché, sitting behind a rain-spattered pane and gazing
gloomily onto the puddled street outside while a scratchy ol' record
spins tinnily away in the corner, but the song evokes the feeling so
perfectly that you're willing to forgive the sentimental trespass.
Indeed, Folky is so successful precisely because it's not
afraid to indulge in a little guilty pleasure. Loath as I am to admit
it, I'm not above it either. I probably won't bust this out for my
trainspotter pals, but you can bet that behind my stacks of Kompakt
and Mego my copy of Folky will patiently await just the right
rainy day.
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