Eric Matthews
The Lateness of the Hour
Sub Pop Records, PO Box 20645, Seattle WA 98102
Release Date: August 26, 1997
Eric Matthews' debut album, It's Heavy in Here, certainly began with a bang. The trumpet flourish of "Fanfare" laid out Matthews' plan for destroying the anarchy of rock with his own brand of grace and clarity. Wielding a baton as a weapon, he orchestrated one of 1995's most compelling new musical visions -- of pop as gliding symphony, a cheer rather than a yawn.
His careful planning, mannered timing and preoccupation with melody brought order to a genre known more for innovation than for timeless beauty. That he borrowed from the pop-standard tradition -- "easy listening" earned that label for a reason -- without losing the vitality of rock, spoke volumes. Matthews sculpted each of his songs into a shining, well-defined piece that could stand alone. Critics and music connoisseurs took notice.
His presence firmly established, Matthews returns with a bit less pomp and circumstance. The Lateness of the Hour is the work of a songwriter who believes firmly in his own artistic philosophy; this guy doesn't have anything to prove. And so album-opener "Ideas That Died That Day," sounds like a whimper. Without the gripping immediacy of Heavy, "Ideas" at first listen sounds deflated. Have patience, grasshopper, there is much to learn. Lateness may lack the aggression of Matthews carving out space for himself, but it is a more challenging, subtle set of tracks. To the faithful come the fruits.
Matthews, like few contemporary pop/rock artists, puts artistry on the same pedestal as emotion. (Note: go ahead and use whatever genre tag you choose; Matthews obviously doesn't much care for them at all, and with a "philharmonic" that includes electric guitars and Spookey Ruben on bass, as well as the harpsichord and fluegelhorn, there's an element of truth to any of them.) Songs like "My Morning Parade" and the Beatles-bubblegum anthem "No Gnashing Teeth" rely just as heavily on Matthews' lyrical poetry and airy croon as they do on the technical perfection of his backing score. He sacrifices spontaneity, but he never sounds stale.
The term "dark blue" has cropped up several times to describe Matthews' two solo albums, and it's as fitting a description of his music as anything. Conservative and yet somehow mystical, staid and yet beautiful. Matthews' chosen oeuvre is a hard one to pull off. I dread the inevitable copycats; their color will be navy, dull and greyish. Matthews is cornflower all the way.
-- Lindy Powell
powell@outersound.com
