When Beachwood Sparks sauntered onto the indie-country, psych-americana, buffalo hipsterfield scene at the turn of the millenium, I was drawn into their first two albums. One glimpse of their H Bar C shirts and Poco-like album covers and I knew that they were kindred spirits, steeping themselves in Flying Burrito hot sauce and Byrds psychedelia. My own band, Billy Midnight, was striving for a similar vibe. I caught them twice on their Once We Were Trees tour. Their show at the Casbah blew me away. Never had I seen a band play a lap steel with that much echo and reverb. It made me feel like I was floating. Later, I saw them play Cafe Du Nord in San Francisco. I had the opportunity to talk with Christopher Gunst, lead singer, who was a nice guy. Beachwood Sparks were down to earth and sincere about reproducing that Cosmic American sound from the early 70s. They were young guys trying to sound like old guys and they did it well.
Recently, I was spiraling through the Web and discovered that they had reunited in 2012 for a final(?) album, appropriately titled The Tarnished Gold. Now they actually look like old guys trying to sound like young guys making old guys' music. The results are very satisfying. In the midst of my first New England winter, The Tarnished Gold delivers a hazy, dusty, golden, coastal sound that is extremely heartwarming. The song I've chosen for my playlist is titled Forget The Song. It's a hyper-nostalgic, melancholic tune about putting an end to the smoldering past. It is Cosmic American perfection.
"It's time to stop pretending
Those days, those days are gone
It's time to stop wishing for endings
Those old wounds have turned into scars
Forget the song that I've been singing
Lay down the way that I've been holding
Hope that spring melts the winter in my heart"
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