The only reason I haven’t listened to all of Aaron Schroeder‘s LP, Southern Heart in Western Skin, is because I knew it would take too long for it to arrive here in Romania, and then all my original epiphanies while hearing this kid out would have faded, as well as his status on my to-blog list (quite a bulging one at that).
Aaron Schroeder’s debut LP is not what I usually go for. It’s got all the makings of something I would steer clear of really. Folk, Americana (is there a scarier word in my musical vocabulary?). But a true talent mixes up influences into something unrecognizable.
I can start pigeonholing Aaron for you but it won’t really do him justice.This music is not tiresome in any way, but it doesn’t blend with the background either. Folk, yes, that’s the emphasis. Bob Dylan and such. But there must have been something in Dostoevsky that made Aaron go for a bit of pop as well 🙂 Because Bob Dylan wrote stories more than songs (mostly, OK?), and Aaron, I find, does a nifty job at both in this early stage. I have no way of discerning Americana culture, I haven’t been part of it, I’m only a receptacle of intuitions I get from music. Listening to Aaron makes you feel like part of (American) history in a way I can’t possibly feel (I’m not American) but I recognise the genuine gnosis linked to it, captured especially by folk artists.
His songs are dripping with a sense of journey and adventure. He may not commit to picket fences (well he’s only 22), but that only shows that the mind of a traveler can only be an open(ed) one, and filled with stories. Yeah, you know his kind – the moms would call their kids inside just as soon as he hit the town with a small army of DIY instrumentation set to demistify life. The lyrics tell tales of people, places and pursuit (erm, the musical kind I believe), and there’s also that sense of self-abasement that I love love love. Shows there’s an ego with growing potential.