Published on Feb 20, 2004
I have a 24-year-old nephew whom I love dearly in spite of his
being, well, 24.
See, the kid is bright, adventurous, rootless and unreliable,
easily distracted by the opposite sex and seemingly bent on
stretching his adolescence out as long as possible. I’ll spare you
the details; suffice it to say, two years out of college, he
doesn’t have a penny to his name and continues to live almost
completely in the ephemeral present, relying on instincts, charm,
and a native intelligence that has allowed him to get away with
more than most. (Hmm… does that sound more critical… or
jealous?)
Anyway… Brandon Patton, for whatever reason your album
Should Confusion makes me think of my nephew, and not just
because he likes his music as eccentric and independent as
possible. (Hell, he probably downloaded your first rough mix off
the Internet years ago…)
Maybe it’s because, despite a rocky moment or two, this disc
full of hormonally-influenced odes to ADD ultimately won me over.
The opening, somewhat mournful “Counting The Paces” had me thinking
maybe I’d stumbled on yet another young “I wanna be as sad as James
Taylor but not as artful” navel-gazing acoustic troubadour. Ah, but
then a couple of minutes into the following “What’s The Worst That
Could Happen?” the lyrics and music took a sharp manic turn,
electric chords crashing in as Patton played out a high school
romance melodrama with an unexpected jolt of bite and purpose
behind it. In the moment Patton’s self-assured vocals went from
breathy Dave Matthews croon to full-throated Paul Westerberg cry, I
knew I was on to something.
“Mo’ Song” has a similar flavor in the sense that it’s also an
acoustic-based track that Patton adds a tasty electric crunch to.
What it also adds is dashes of cock-eyed wisdom and blind-side
humor that permeate the rest of the album like the spices in a
pungent gumbo. Following the twists and turns of these songs, you
realize this particular kid really does have it; he knows how to
tell a story in such a way that you have no idea what’s coming
next, but aren’t for a moment tempted to leave before the show’s
over.
Patton’s sharp wit is especially evident on the playful “Did All
That Before,” whose verses are full of rapturous declarations of
love that collapse under their own weight in the balloon-poking
chorus. “Auspicious Moment” is another rib-tickler, one of those
goofy messing-around-in-the-studio vignettes that shouldn’t work,
but does. Patton’s deadpan, self-mocking, white-boy rap delivery is
the perfect counterweight for the hormone-addled fervor of the
lyrics (“I can’t pay attention, in the spring / When the girls are
out on the green / And the summer dresses cover my head when I try
to think”), the drum track crashing around in the background with
uncanny adolescent empathy.
Patton’s exuberant arrangements keep you guessing, deftly mixing
and matching musical styles from the big-band jazz flourishes on
“Thirty-One Hundred Miles” to the vaudeville shadings of “Everybody
Loves You Now” and the Rawhide rockabilly of “The Good Life.” In
every case, his acoustic guitar work is superb, as steadily melodic
and rhythmic as you could ask for.
The bookend to Patton’s straight & sincere opener is the
earnest, memorable closer “Someday When We’re Old,” which leaves
you with just the right final impression — yeah, he can get a
little goofy, but he’s no lightweight. So let’s see, this kid I
wasn’t so sure about turns out to be: an excellent guitarist with
an engaging voice, who’s self-published a d-i-y album that’s
eloquent, witty, versatile, charming and — once in a while —
serious.
I don’t know what my nephew will be doing — hell, I’m not even
sure what continent he’ll be on — this time next year, but I’m
pretty confident Brandon Patton will be making music somewhere, and
people will be listening. As they should.
For more information or to purchase this album, see
Brandon
Patton’s Web site.