CASS MCCOMBS - Interior Live Oak

The time has come to ask why Cass McCombs, after more than twenty years of career, has still not achieved the status of a leading figure in the contemporary singer-songwriter scene. Certainly not for lack of substantial, personality-rich records (just listen to the trio of albums that preceded this new one): perhaps what's been missing until now is the humus needed to bind together the musician's many souls, suspended between urban folk and vintage country.

“Interior Live Oak” arrives after a long period of reflection, during which the American artist tidied up his archives (“Seed Cake On Leap Year”) and collaborated on a project devoted to the world of childhood alongside an old friend and teacher (“Mr. Greg & Cass Mccombs Sing And Play New Folk Songs For Children”). McCombs's new album is a considered, carefully crafted work with a creative vision that is as powerful as it is simple and essential.

Armed with a batch of melodically sophisticated, emotionally engaging songs, the songwriter chose to strip them of anything superfluous and share the recording process with his trusted co-producer Jason Quever (ex-Papercuts) and longtime friend Chris Cohen. The approach is more direct, far removed from the spirit of obligatory studio sessions with hired sessionmen, and the result is a visceral baring of thoughts and doubts. Sixteen songs about life and death, delivered with a poetic verve that caresses the soul.

Cass McCombs's eleventh album is a continuous flow of folk, country, soul and pop filtered through a dreamlike, surreal lens. The California dream isn't over yet (the album marks the American artist's return to San Francisco): with lightness ("Jubile") and disenchantment ("Diamonds In The Mine"), he reawakens its spontaneity, without forgetting the relentless passage of time, moving between bitter memories of a departed friend – the gorgeous country-soul of "Priestess" – and melancholy reflections on lost and forgotten loves – the piano-led noir ballad "I Never Dream About Trains" (a title that is also a nod to Robyn Hitchcock).

"Interior Live Oak" has the swagger of a classic album. Its nearly 75 minutes flow by with total assurance, moving through timeless ballads you want to lose yourself in, like the moving "Missionary Bell"; jangle-pop riffs that marry the grace of the Go-Betweens with the sparkling harmonies of the Byrds (the lively "Peace"); delightful plunges into early-1960s underground rock'n'roll on the irresistible "Asphodel", which will remind many listeners of Modern Lovers; and enigmatic, surreal intersections of goth, country-western and psychedelic pop, as on the long, hypnotic "Who Removed The Cellar Door", which McCombs sings in a voice that sits somewhere between a crooner and a 1960s country singer.

For an artist who has at times been accused of excessive retro taste, the new album is a clear win. The poetic, slow-moving "Lola Montez Danced The Spider Dance", the equally solemn country-blues of "I'm Not Ashamed", and the dreamy, naif "Strawberry Moon" leave no doubt about the state of grace that inspired the American songwriter's new album. Praise is also due to the musicians who fully captured the charm of songs as essential as they are unforgettable: bassist Brian Betancourt and the three guitarists Sam Owens (better known as Sam Evian), Mike Bones and Matt Sweeney, who hold things together even in the boldest moments, like the splendid blues crescendo with a forceful closing solo on "A Girl Named Dogie" and the scorching fuzz-noise sound of the long title track that closes the album.

With "Interior Live Oak" McCombs continues to tell real and imagined stories without ever fully defining their outlines. Amid flashes of poetry and good sense, he lingers on details and shades of color that open the door to youthful flourishes and baroque touches worthy of Jim Croce or Don McLean, embracing darkness and silence with a set of songs that leave a mark. It doesn't matter if, once again, Cass won't ascend to the pantheon of contemporary songwriters — after all, on "Home At Last" he sings without hesitation: Sulla mia lapide lascia che ci sia scritto: Qui non giace nessuno.

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25/08/2025