Steve Henderson
07/20/06, 06:21 PM
Roddy Woomble - My Secret Is My Silence
Release Date: 7/24/06
Record Label: Pure Records
Rating: [8.7/10]
As he neared his thirtieth birthday, Idlewild frontman Roddy Woomble apparently decided it was time for a change. As his creative vices began to diverge and fracture from those of his bandmates, the poetic Scot set off to construct a work that would quell his hunger for individual artistic expression. In speaking during the album's construction, Woomble stated, "These are songs that would have never lived with Idlewild, but are still very much a part of me." As a longtime fan of Idlewild's trademark work, and equally, their artistic and musical progression through the past decade, this alarmed me in that it hinted at the band's return to the brazen form of Hope Is Important, while Roddy was quarantined to exercise his inner acoustic demons without the troubles of a full-time backing band. Thus, I had (somewhat optimistically) come to expect a record full of newer Idlewild-based derivatives - essentially eleven new offtakes from the “Live In a Hiding Place”/ ”Scottish Fiction”/ ”Bronze Medal” template. One listen to My Secret Is My Silence was all it took for me to realize how misdirected these hastily rendered expectations were.
From the first muted guitar notes of “I Came In from the Mountain,” it is almost shocking to hear the sound that Roddy Woomble has constructed on his first solo effort. Nothing here is booming, or soaring, or trying to “rock out,” but instead everything is, well, folky. Coming from one of the most prolific songwriters of the past few decades, it is disarming to hear Woomble so stripped down, so minimalist. Among everything else, it is also refreshing to hear him sound so Scottish.
Now still, through the haze of change, Roddy fans need not fret. Our favorite crooner is here in true form, but in this medium, he no longer has to compete with wailing riffs or crackling percussion to make his emotion palpable, and it is readily apparent. The solo Roddy sounds confident, but still so remarkably humble, almost vulnerable even. Considering how accomplished he is, to hear Woomble’s voice bordering on shoegaze is beautiful beyond words in what it says about the man behind this remarkable music.
As for the songs themselves, as noted before, do not expect reincarnations of “El Capitain” or the like. Instead, expect a true, Scottish folk journey, albeit from a true poet and a rock star. The guitar lines are scant and yielding, often relying on finger-plucking to achieve the necessary level of accenting restraint. This is not all the listener is privy to, though, as in true reverence to his heritage, Woomble tosses in bagpipes, accordion, violin, and flute for good measure (see the instrumental “Whiskeyface”). When it all comes together, the aggregate mix is comfortably cozy, and quite effectively conjures up vivid images of the Scottish highlands that so inspired this record.
For as intimate as most of the songs are, though, do not think for a second that Roddy has lost the knack for soaring melodies and shining choruses that have landed him the notoriety he enjoys today. On the album’s title track, Woomble proves that few in the world can construct disparate two-part harmonies like he can, with a stunning refrain that is as thoughtful in sound as it is in word. Likewise, on “Waverly Steps,” Roddy joins up with his temporary/guest bandmates to weave together a multifaceted croon that is so irrefutably convincing in its conviction and engaging in emotion that the track becomes truly personal, as only the best vocalists and songwriters can make a tune.
Proving he is not at all reaching for the clouds, the minstrels turn the volume and the vibrancy down for the melancholy “Act IV” that is no less affecting, as is the sparse, fragile, “If I Could Name Any Name” that reasserts the fact that Woomble is as much a wordsmith as he is a singer.
When you get right down to it, if you ignore the unfortunate cacophony of “From The Drifter To The Drake,” Roddy Woomble has crafted an extremely memorable debut solo effort that will please old and new fans alike. A good chunk of the album if brilliant, and the rest is certainly more than palatable. If you need one more stimulus to motivate you to check out this album, do it for nothing more than the creative insight into the driving force behind the most underrated band in the world. You will be impressed.
Idlewild, Damien Rice, Denison Witmer, Michael Stipe, John McCusker
Release Date: 7/24/06
Record Label: Pure Records
Rating: [8.7/10]
As he neared his thirtieth birthday, Idlewild frontman Roddy Woomble apparently decided it was time for a change. As his creative vices began to diverge and fracture from those of his bandmates, the poetic Scot set off to construct a work that would quell his hunger for individual artistic expression. In speaking during the album's construction, Woomble stated, "These are songs that would have never lived with Idlewild, but are still very much a part of me." As a longtime fan of Idlewild's trademark work, and equally, their artistic and musical progression through the past decade, this alarmed me in that it hinted at the band's return to the brazen form of Hope Is Important, while Roddy was quarantined to exercise his inner acoustic demons without the troubles of a full-time backing band. Thus, I had (somewhat optimistically) come to expect a record full of newer Idlewild-based derivatives - essentially eleven new offtakes from the “Live In a Hiding Place”/ ”Scottish Fiction”/ ”Bronze Medal” template. One listen to My Secret Is My Silence was all it took for me to realize how misdirected these hastily rendered expectations were.
From the first muted guitar notes of “I Came In from the Mountain,” it is almost shocking to hear the sound that Roddy Woomble has constructed on his first solo effort. Nothing here is booming, or soaring, or trying to “rock out,” but instead everything is, well, folky. Coming from one of the most prolific songwriters of the past few decades, it is disarming to hear Woomble so stripped down, so minimalist. Among everything else, it is also refreshing to hear him sound so Scottish.
Now still, through the haze of change, Roddy fans need not fret. Our favorite crooner is here in true form, but in this medium, he no longer has to compete with wailing riffs or crackling percussion to make his emotion palpable, and it is readily apparent. The solo Roddy sounds confident, but still so remarkably humble, almost vulnerable even. Considering how accomplished he is, to hear Woomble’s voice bordering on shoegaze is beautiful beyond words in what it says about the man behind this remarkable music.
As for the songs themselves, as noted before, do not expect reincarnations of “El Capitain” or the like. Instead, expect a true, Scottish folk journey, albeit from a true poet and a rock star. The guitar lines are scant and yielding, often relying on finger-plucking to achieve the necessary level of accenting restraint. This is not all the listener is privy to, though, as in true reverence to his heritage, Woomble tosses in bagpipes, accordion, violin, and flute for good measure (see the instrumental “Whiskeyface”). When it all comes together, the aggregate mix is comfortably cozy, and quite effectively conjures up vivid images of the Scottish highlands that so inspired this record.
For as intimate as most of the songs are, though, do not think for a second that Roddy has lost the knack for soaring melodies and shining choruses that have landed him the notoriety he enjoys today. On the album’s title track, Woomble proves that few in the world can construct disparate two-part harmonies like he can, with a stunning refrain that is as thoughtful in sound as it is in word. Likewise, on “Waverly Steps,” Roddy joins up with his temporary/guest bandmates to weave together a multifaceted croon that is so irrefutably convincing in its conviction and engaging in emotion that the track becomes truly personal, as only the best vocalists and songwriters can make a tune.
Proving he is not at all reaching for the clouds, the minstrels turn the volume and the vibrancy down for the melancholy “Act IV” that is no less affecting, as is the sparse, fragile, “If I Could Name Any Name” that reasserts the fact that Woomble is as much a wordsmith as he is a singer.
When you get right down to it, if you ignore the unfortunate cacophony of “From The Drifter To The Drake,” Roddy Woomble has crafted an extremely memorable debut solo effort that will please old and new fans alike. A good chunk of the album if brilliant, and the rest is certainly more than palatable. If you need one more stimulus to motivate you to check out this album, do it for nothing more than the creative insight into the driving force behind the most underrated band in the world. You will be impressed.
Idlewild, Damien Rice, Denison Witmer, Michael Stipe, John McCusker