Blowin Indie Wind Barn Burning Soon to Be Raging on Campus, Once the Fire Gets Started

Author: Erika Mercer

You stand on the edge of a vast cornfield, staring across its immensity to where, far in the distance, a solitary farmhouse shudders in the fall wind. With each gust, the stalks of corn bend and bow in unison, their heads too heavy to hold up, their arms hanging limp by their sides. Together, they create a tawny, somber flock against the lowering sky. The bleak view sedates and subdues you, but its stark beauty also seduces and mesmerizes you to the point of being unable to look away.
Barn Burning formed in March 2001 as a collaboration between Anthony Loffredio (vocals, acoustic/electric guitars), Corwin Butterworth (lap steel, mandolin and dobro) and Erik Wohlgemuth (vocals, acoustic/ electric guitars, banjo, mandolin). By June 2001 the trio had added bassist Caleb Cabral (replaced in 2002 by Mark O'Brien), backing vocalist and violist Emily Myers and drummer Andy Pace. Several months later, the band released their first album, a self-titled four song EP.
Since that release, Barn Burning has divided its time between playing live shows (from performances at larger venues in New York and Boston to smaller shows in their hometown base of Providence, R.I.) and recording their first full-length album, due out in January 2003. This as of yet untitled album was produced with the help of members of the country/folk band, Willard Grant Conspiracy — Robert Fisher (lead vocalist in WGC) served as producer, Dennis Cronin played guest trumpet and Peter Linnane (also of Lambchop) played guest piano and recorded the album in his studio, Zippah Studios, in Brookline, Mass.
Barn Burning plays a mixture of country, folk and rock, employing its large range of instruments to create a unique, masterful scope of sounds. Its upcoming release proves this songwriting capacity, sounding at times twangy at times heart-rending and forlorn, at times rocking, and at times sensual and gentle. The album is a long car trip through various shifting landscapes, from dirty city sidewalks to infinite open fields, evoking a depth of emotions only rarely attainable. This ability to sketch such grand landscapes is proven also by Loffredio's poetical and poignant lyrics: "Hope for the scarecrows / crucified with no one to save / would you help me out / if I needed you today?"
Each song on the album drives a distinct emotion, beginning with "Flown," a tender, heartbreaking ballad, which opens with gentle guitar picking and the high, penetrating echo of the viola. The gently rising, dejected tone is complemented by Loffredio's lyrics: "And snow it will fall / And slam us into walls / And it'll take you years / To dig yourself out of it." "Flown" builds towards a distressed, emotional peak, then abruptly culminates with short, staccato beats reminiscent of a pulsing heart and sharp sobs.
The next song on the album, "Preparations For Winter," applies a twangier, more rustic sound, effortlessly bringing the listener into a completely different frame of mind and shifting his emotions within seconds. Though also downbeat, "Preparations For Winter" is a less passive and less solitary song than "Flown": listening to it is like sitting beside a good friend at a run down bar, nursing a glass of whiskey.
Barn Burning also manages to rock out on several songs such as "Windshield" and "Out the Window," on which an amplifier is used to distort Loffredio's voice, creating a distanced, harsh sound fitting with the louder and rougher nature of the entire song. As opposed to the rawness and sensitiveness of "Flown" or "Preparations for Winter," "Out the Window" presents an experienced, calloused face to the listener: "Tonight I walked through the street / and accepted my defeat / with your voice in my ears / and they say it's selfish and I know / it's the reason I'm alone / with the rats and the lice."
The album concludes with "100,000 Light Years," an affecting, climactic song, which leaves the listener feeling completely overwhelmed, awed and prepared to begin the journey all over again.
"100,000 Light Years" provides the emotional high point and catharsis for the entire album: The instruments rise in volume and build layers onto themselves, while at the same time the stunning lyrics juxtapose this instrumental swell, delving deeper into the depths of muddy despair. For example, "Your heart beats like the sound of mandolins in the dirt."
The song travels from the ocean to the cornfield to peaks of mountains and back again to the ocean, traversing unimaginable, immense and lonely distances. It completes the end to a fulfilling, monumental and accomplished album, an album not to be missed.