JERRY DAVID DECICCA
New Shadows 8/10 A country-folk auteur embraces synthesisers and sequencers.
DECICCA isn’t technically a blues musician, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have the blues real bad. A low-thrum alienation su uses his squirrelly new solo record, New Shadows, which alternates between humour and pathos, wry observations and existential plaints. In several songs he sits around feeling lost. In others, he wanders about feeling lost. On a philosophical inquiry about the nature of creativity called “Sing”, he simply strums his guitar and weeps. But he’s learned to chuckle at such intense angst: “These blues got me by the short hairs”, he declares on “These Blues”, sounding wrung out yet punchy. “These blues are taking over my yard”.
An Ohio native so obsessed with Texas music that he moved to the small town of Bulverde, located just north of San Antonio and renowned as a hub for Lone Star rock, Decicca is a master at conjuring bluesy scenes and moods in just a few short lines. Rather than mimic a particular style or scene, he just makes his own traditions as he goes. And New Shadows is his wildest interpretation yet. He downplays the guitar as a lead instrument, despite it forming the foundation of his sound as both a solo artist and as the frontman for The Black Swans. In its place are sequencers and keyboards, a bank of vintage gear that’s less outlaw country and more like an early Lindsey Buckingham solo record.
Decicca recorded demos on an old Rhythm King drum machine that he picked up cheap at a thri store. During the recording sessions, he and Austin-based co-producer Don Cento rebuilt the songs on a Linndrum and a variety of synths. New Shadows has a specic and spectral vibe, which distinguishes it not only from his previous albums but also from other artists who might fall uneasily into the roots category. The title track opens the album with a bed of synths that shimmers like a mirage on the horizon, as Decicca’s vocals pixelate at the edges and an errant sax croaks a solo. The song sounds like a mission statement, as though Decicca has found renewed purpose in these unlikely sounds: “New shadows, new places to hide/ New shadows is where I’ll survive”.
It’s a risky move this deep into a career, but it works partly because the soundscapes are so immersive and partly because Decicca seems to be having some fun with these new toys. On the lowdown “Lost Days”, with its breathy sax and ’70s marina-rock percussion, he pairs his naturally deep voice with what sounds like a helium-hung homunculus, as though his bad feelings have assumed corporeal form and turned the song into a Ween jam. “Walking Stick” lopes along to a shuing piano theme, slowly revealing itself to be a surprisingly sweet ode to an insect: the Diapheromera femorata, to be precise.
“You’ve got suction cups on your feet, you reproduce parthenogenetically”, Decicca sings admiringly. “You know somedays I wish I could be just like you”. Don’t we all?
It’s a weird world, but an inviting one. Decicca is a remarkably intelligent and compassionate songwriter, able to evoke huge tangles of emotion with just a few words. “Manzanita Bay” is a model of songwriting as storytelling, as he gestures toward some heart-cleaving event on
“the h day of August” but leaves the specics to the listener’s imagination. It could be a breakup, or a death – or something weirder. He also knows how to expand this world with some impressive cameos and walk-ons, including Steve Berlin and David Hidalgo from Los Lobos, guitarist Je Parker and North Carolina singer-songwriter Rosali Middleman. It’s remarkable how these luminaries never distract from Decicca, but expand the LP in ways even he couldn’t have predicted.
The dark heart of this album might be “Angelina”, one of his saddest songs and therefore one of his nest. Featuring sound e ects Decicca recorded at the Bulverde airport, it’s about a missing girl and a mystery that can’t be solved, but it’s also about a community’s diminishing concern for the fate of this child. Life returns to normal too quickly: “The campres ignited as the burn band expired/a sign that all hope had been retired”, he explains over sympathetic synth chords and Aquiles Navarro’s reverbed trumpet. “The churches accepted that their prayers fell on deaf ears”. His voice heavy with resignation, Decicca leaves the story open-ended, which is another way of saying he has the ne ability to pass his blues along to us.