By: The Great American Wolf

“A writer is someone for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people.”

Thomas Mann

Did you know that to be the case? Had you concluded as much before just now reading it? Do you enjoy rhetorical questions? All snark aside, while it might not be quantifiable, it is certainly something that can be considered more fact than fiction by writers. Whether it’s buckling down on poetry or prose and all that’s entailed between the two, or song structure and instrument orchestration, this equation, the whole of it, can be found in the drawer labeled “Writing”. “Writing” is a laborious, often times as grueling as it is glorious event in which an individual uses their heart, soul and mind to pull from the metaphysical realm of feeling and thought and materialize it for the purpose of being shared. No small task as it’s typically made large and all the more daunting by the amount of care put into it.

The act of writing and writing well is a living, breathing fleeing craft with legs and wings, condemning practitioners to a Sisyphean pursuit. Bearing witness to both ends of the songwriting equation coming together to form a great success is a rarity concerning experiences, and I’m here to tell you that The Damn Quails have done just that with the release of their latest album Clouding Up Your City. I’ve been granted the honor of reviewing this album track by track in its entirety.

It’s often a jubilant affair for me, as well as many of my peers, to be able to inquire or discuss the means and methods behind a song or an album with the writer/s. How often have you thought on what you would you like to ask an artist about the gears and cogs behind their work? It’s a radical deal to get to do so, and so in reviewing this release I hope to convey, in written word, a great work of art bore to both The Covey and the world at large, from the angle of both a fan, a fellow writer and the critique reserved by both.

Monsters

Right out of the gates comes a track that’s absolutely rife with bright, lively sound. The melody sits high atop the driving progression and beat, with White’s lyrics not a pound over or under excellent form. The guitar track makes itself known during the chord progression and fills the song full of catchy confidence. Perfect song for a horror movie scene in which a group of young people are traveling out of town in a convertible with the wind in their hair and a few hours left to live.

Highest Shelf

It is 3am and this song is standing just outside the light of a corner lamppost, while it’s flipping a coin and staring at you. Bryon finds a playful-malfeasant melody here and balances it with approachable themes. The keys provide an excellent backbone here with a great harp in the middle. It should’ve been covered in the first track that the vocal harmonies are sharp and tasteful. Just to save some time, make it known that the vocal harmonies are great throughout. Just listen to them, won’t you?

Harm’s Way

The lyrics here are going to prod at anyone involved in songwriting, namely, those with a penchant for escapism, self-medication and reckless endangerment. Beyond that, anyone with a sharp sense of self conviction is gonna get constricted. With that being said, get in the car and play this one on the way to your dive bar. You are driving there alone. This song is a perfect example of the conductor doing his homework when assembling the players. Juxtaposed with the faster, more upbeat songs on this album, it goes to show you that The Damn Quails can weather both ends of the pool. True showcase of what the band can do.

Clouding Up Your City

Hopefully you made it back home alive after the last one, because you can’t be dead and get back into the bar, which is where we’re going, back to. This time the sun might shine that kind of light that makes you wanna walk instead of drive and when you make through the door, everybody you like is sitting there waiting on you. That’s how this song made me feel, and it’s a lasting and vivid impression. Good groove, wide sound, excellent lyrics and happy-sounding-enough to mask them a little. Good standard to set for a title track.

Mile by Mile

Really tasteful opening in this one, with keys, vocals and a reserved rhythm section. Just enough here and there to set the tone of the song, which is somber intention that sounds pretty enough to invite on in. White’s trademark usage of unique melody returns here with good wit in tow. The vocal harmonies seal the deal, easy, and this is one I wouldn’t mind drinking a box of wine to on the hallowed grounds of someone else’s patio as the last person still up.

The Punxsutawney Rambler

Lent to The Quails by none other than OKC’s very own Buffalo Rogers, a cavalier songwriter all his own, #6 comes in swinging anything but low and stands as a testament on how to write a good time out of thin air. The initial seconds of this song give me an urge to imagine myself saying out loud, “This is fun. I am having fun”. Turn it up, all the way, and tell me different. I’m serious. webster.derek@outlook.com <<< That’s my email. Tell me different. You won’t be able to. You won’t have time in between all the fun you’ll be having. This bad boy sinks in a groove and digs its heels in with quick wit and a Gaelic/shanty-esque drawl from B. White that’s, I dare say, enough to slap a tourniquet on the most dire of wedding receptions. This song will make you want to move, so get to moving.

Everything is Fine

Paying close enough attention to it, you get to a certain point where you begin to consider that the title is a tall tale. And then comes that sweet-ass validation. This was actually one of the first recordings I heard some time ago for this record and it’s as catchy and quick as it was then, still today. A clinic in songwriting is being put on here with timing, meter and energy. Catching the full band behind this one, live, is gonna be something you don’t soon forget. This one gets stuck, and stuck it stays.

Golden Sands of Leyte

I remember my initial thought on this song was that it sounded chock full of ill intent. A threatening thing in its nature; a cautionary tale. The chorus here is powerful and vivid. You don’t have to close your eyes to either see or follow the story. The instruments are solid in having put that haunting gypsy-folk haze together as tight as a ribcage. If you were to dance to it, you would dance that of a sultry persuasion. Lastly, it should be noted that this is a song with a magnificent ending, lyrically and musically. Production on the whole album is strong, but here it can be witnessed with ease.

Peace in the Valley

You may brand me as something sedentary if you wish, but I’ll be omitting a detailed review on this song as I think it would be best that you went into it blind, the way everyone else who’s heard it for the first time has, as I’d wager to say that they haven’t quite forgotten that event. This song is perfect by my writing standards across the board and in my opinion boasts the very best bridge to ever get uprooted in the state of Oklahoma. I will be biased here and it’s for your benefit. Listen to this song, all the way up, and then go show it to somebody else and they’ll truly believe you know your shit when it comes to showing off a good song.

Someone Else’s City

This was my favorite song upon my initial play through of the album and it nearly held up this whole time, only beaten at the last moment by a sucker punch on the end-cap. This is another showcase of hard-earned prowess over the realm of word and song. White finds great cadence wherever he goes, it seems to me, but here it’s impressive, more so, as I try and keep count of syllables being fit into and in-between bars. I stand before you, guilty of bias once more, as I am an absolute sucker for word usage and this one really shines in that respect. The band rounds it off with a seamless desert cruising theme that’d play well at either dusk or dawn.

Good Times

This is that sucker punch I mentioned a paragraph back. The last-minute favorite, for me, anyway. The whole thing is one of the best examples of something being “hidden in plain view”. The previous strengths notated throughout the review all show up here in a perfect, crooning folk heartbreaker. The melodies, the harmonies and the instruments all ease together, back and forth in a lazy, swaying unison and it’s enough to make you want to lean into a nap. This is quickly abated by the sheer emotion brought on by words and memories that come within 100 yards of the personal regrets we might share concerning people from our pasts or present. A true testament to the craft, Bryon White has created a song that lures you in, breaks your back, and kisses you on the forehead as it carries you to the curb. This song is enough to make a person afraid to drink alone. That, or send him right after it with kick in his step.

Do yourself a favor and do your best to listen to this album, at the very least, or slap down the cash if you can manage to, as you will not regret it. If anything ever catches your ear and won’t let you go, it’s probably best that you share it with other folks, so that they might be held that way as well. We all deserve to hear a good time and right here you’ve found one.

The Quails Drop an Atom Bomb