Willis Earl Beal - Acousmatic Sorcery

Willis Earl Beal is a throwback, a singer-songwriter that has brilliantly created an air of mystery, curiosity and danger around his music, causing curious folk to begin to ask questions - Who is this man? What is his story? Is he really who he says he is?

Beal recorded Acousmatic Sorcery in Albuquerque, New Mexico - an arid place usually not conducive to free spirited expression. Living the starving artist's life, Beal wandered across the middle of America from New Mexico back home to his native Chicago, and somehow during that journey word spread about his music, and he found himself signed to the hippest label of them all – XL Recordings. Bizarrely, Beal has also appeared on the US Version of the X Factor, having made it to the bootcamp stage of the competition.

The remarkable thing about Willis Earl Beal is his optimistic innocence; at one time in his life he left flyers to acquire friends with the humble disclaimer – “I am not a Weasel”. It appears that he is searching for someone, for something, he wants to fit in, and join those who’ve somehow found love or better yet inner peace. Establishing himself as a musician might go some way in filling the void in his soul.

Acousmatic Sorcery is a stripped back effort that sounds like it was home recorded on a second hand vintage tape deck. It is raw, abrasive and unashamedly amateurish. Due to its shoddy production the album reminds me a heck of a lot of John Frusciante’s debut solo album Niandra Lades and Usually Just a T-Shirt. Beal asks the listener to accept even his faults, because these almost deliberate flaws, both in terms of sound quality, instrumentation and vocals that litter the album are part of what he is - an everyman who makes mistakes.

After a nerve jangling instrumental opening, bashed on which I can only guess must be a xylophone (though it could conceivably be something different altogether picked up for a few bucks at a Yard Sale) Beal opens up on ‘Take Me Away’ singing like he’s being dragged to hell - the song is a stormer. From there Beal becomes a storyteller, ‘Cosmic Queries’ is an introspective gaze up at the stars, ‘Evening’s Kiss’ is a softly sung account of Beal falling in love with a waitress at a local diner.

The pot and pan percussive thud that drives ‘Ghost Robot’ propels Beal’s angry slam poetry, ‘Swing On Low’ continues the beatific anti-folk babble, again the grating milk bottle music jars horribly against Beal’s flow, but it challenges you to focus on “the caffeinated chap, microphone is my tool”.

‘Monotony’ is the most honest song on the album; it represents a charred chapter in Beal’s lonely life, when he drifted aimlessly, when the hours and days blended together. ‘Bright Copper Neon’ and ‘Away My Silent Lover’ remind you that this cat can sing which shouldn’t come as much of a surprise, but there are moments when Beal’s idiosyncratic approach blankets his talent. We could probably do without the Tom Waits aping spoken word ending to the album, though celebrating your influences should never be frowned upon, especially given that Beal himself is likely to me mimicked by a whole generation of would-be raconteurs.