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Ariel Pink
WORN COPY
(Paw Tracks)
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Yet another Paw Tracks release sure to split listeners into "this shit’s great" and "this shit grates" camps, Worn Copy at least has the benefit of better songs and less shtick than Ariel Pink’s last one, The Doldrums. This lo-fi Beverly Hillbilly has made himself out to be the R. Stevie Moore home-recording wizard of the West. He’s succeeded, though his work sounds more celebrity-obsessed, culture-shocked, and kitsch-damaged than the Nashville-bred Moore ever managed. Whereas The Doldrums relied too much on novelty (" . . . and to top that, I use my mouth to make all the drum noises hee-haw!"), Worn Copy nails Pink to AM radio refuse that’s worthy of his crooked nostalgia. The sprawling, genre-hopping opener, "Trepanated Earth," makes that touchstone explicit; so does "Artifact," if only by virtue of its title. Then there’s "Jules Lost His Jewels," and "Life in LA," and "Credit." So lived-in and listenable, Pink’s creepiness takes a few listens to set in. In LA, I hear that’s a compliment. (Ariel Pink opens for Animal Collective this Sunday, April 17, downstairs at the Middle East, 480 Massachusetts Avenue in Central Square; call 617-864-EAST.)
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