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Solyoni:
Prairie Monsters
I recently had a conversation with a good friend about humor in music. Its a sticky subject, indeed. There should be room in every artistic form for laughing at oneself or at the absurdity of human existence. There should even be a space for parody, hokum, and ham. But overtly ridiculous albums seem a waste of a listeners time, especially in an era glutted on immaturity and flippancy. Music should never make you grimace. Solyoni based their Prairie Monsters album on memories of a road trip that songwriters Dan Lurie and Dominic Aulisio took together. Driving through the Midwest informs the songs, but the album does not progress from begin to end. Each song is a vignette, relying on the old country catalog: hop-along rhythms, group choruses, excellent guitar and percussion, and echoes of Charlie Daniels. Light sampling, ambient road noise and conversation keep it from feeling like an homage. Hill Boys, The Highway and Stagecoach Inn, in particular, are inventive and enjoyable. Unfortunately, Solyoni fail at songwriting. All of the lyrics are decidedly off-the-cuff, sounding like the ridiculous ditties one makes up under the influence of alcohol or marijuana. Cooler Full of Plums and Menu at a Restaurant are good examples of silliness; each line of the song sounds improvised, seeming to spring from the need to match the rhyme: Once I had a quarter/spent it on some gum/this cooler full of plums Tracks like The Ballad of Whitey Granger and Albert Lee Hey Hey are even more frustrating because Solyoni ruins some truly great guitar and drums with irritating ham voices, like some toothless fireside cowboy in a cartoon. Irritation reaches its apex on Tiny Song, which is childish, obnoxious, and completely out of scope. A photographic record of the trials that inevitably assail a traveler on the highway is essential for memories and storytelling. Very few people, however, are interested in an exhaustive slideshow of the entire trip with a budget-comedian commentary. Prairie Monsters has a great country-rock sound, which ought to have been complemented by poignant, or at the very least honest, songwriting. Perhaps that is what irritates this writer most: misplaced humor. Music of a caliber this high should never be tied down with ham lyrics. Solyoni would do well to sober up and drive home.
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