William Fitzsimmons: The Sparrow and the Crow
William Fitzsimmons: The Sparrow and the Crow
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Friday, 30, Oct 2009 05:03
Naim Edge Records, released November 12th.
In a nutshell...
Folkie divorces, writes about it.
What's it all about?
Those indie folksters are so very demanding these days. First came Bon Iver, who disappeared into the woods following a painful breakup and a bout of mononucleosis, only to finally emerge with one of last year's finest records. Hot on his heels is William Fitzsimmons who, for his third album has decided to document his divorce. This is not new territory either: Goodnight, his sophomore effort covered his parents' divorce, itself such a harrowing experience that it precipitated the break-up of his own marriage. It would appear that anyone who aspires to become anyone these days needs a backstory - Fitzsimmons' story, as crass as it is to say, ranks among the best of them.
Who's it by?
Born and raised in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, the son of blind parents, Fitzsimmons cuts a mysterious and affable figure with a beard size comfortably exceeding the surface area of visible face. Working as a psychotherapist, he started writing music in his spare time. Album number three, The Sparrow and the Crow, finally gets a release in the UK after being out in the states for over a year now.
As an example...
"I still love you/I still want you/I still need you/After all." - After Afterall
"We'll love again, just not each other." - Just Not Each Other
What the others say
"Its commitment to a lush, full sound is both what makes the album effortlessly beautiful, and subtly chilling. Because a crisis that hurt you so deeply shouldn't be rendered this completely into song." - Matthew Fiander - Popmatters
"Put it this way: they [the songs] make Elliott Smith, probably the artist he resembles most, seem positively uplifting." - Guardian
So is it any good?
Much like the boy who cried wolf, the folk genre (or should that be music in general?) is in danger of discrediting genuine lyricists such as Fitzsimmons. Lyrics such as "If you would come back home I swear it would be better" on If You Would Come Back Home require a contextual knowledge to avoid his sentiments being dismissed as Dawson's Creek-esque, not helped by a mix that wouldn't sound out of place on such a show.
Those in the know, however, will reap rewards from Fitzsimmons' often alarmingly honest lyrics. Find Me to Forgive, a plaintive call to his ex-wife, asks her if she'd come to his grave should he jump to his death. In turn, Please Forgive Me (Song of the Crow) is simply a song to say sorry: "You gave your heart to me alone, I left you out at sea" - a heartbreaking confession yet delivered in his constant whispered voice, never wavering to force meaning from his words. Like Sufjan Stevens this lends an unsettling aspect to Fitzsimmons' music.
The record suffers from over-fussiness in places: Further From You and If You Would Come Back Home both suffer in part from overly saccharine production, while the aforementioned Sufjan Stevens' influence isn't always welcome, with You Still Hurt Me's grating campfire chorus not fitting with the rest of the record. Opener After Afterall is also not without flaws: its reverb-laden piano is almost... whisper it... cheesy.
Much better is the beautiful We Feel Alone - its treble-heavy-to-the-point-of-distortion piano a far better fit for the album as a whole. The highlight, however, is the stunning Please Forgive Me (Song of the Crow). Recalling the fragility of Iron and Wine's Our Endless Numbered Days, it proves Fitzsimmons to be at his best in an intimate setting with a sparse backdrop, leaving only his guitar and voice.
Undeniably gorgeous in places, The Sparrow and the Crow still cannot escape certain trappings, be it overproduction or our natural wariness when approaching lyrics of emotional woe. It is, however, an undeniably emotional listening experience. In Fitzsimmons' case, the boy may not cry wolf, but the listener may shed a few tears before the end.
7/10
John McGlone