Twisting tales of a miserable high school nightmare and other assorted goodies

As if raining down a flood of incredibly focused songs ain’t enough, Brian Seymour tosses off the mixology for a Dark and Stormy at the end of the printed lyrics for the song that shares its name (80 proof dark rum, ginger beer, lime, on ice). I can’t thank him enough; for the drink, for the music, and, while I’m at it, for the biography-by-default "Memories of High School". "How did we ever survive / the best years of our lives" refrains this double edge sword of a song that Seymour smoky voices into what one could suppose is a nostalgic longing. Suppose, of course, is a leap of faith. Suppose we stop supposing for a moment and get around to the real deal; the one that strains from somewhere deep inside Seymour’s mind, then wells up within, and comes aching out of his gullet as "Memories of High School" turns on itself and drags its jagged edge deep into the heart of the matter. "Memories" scratches at the flawed universal premise that youth is glory. High school days placed high upon a pedestal and revered for the easy going and carefree qualities that, in reality, are a load of painful shit. When Seymour recites his version of these heady days of youth you could easily be fooled into the accepting the broken assessments of so many fools, after all he waxes dreamily doesn’t he? "Do you remember how it used to be? / Heart full of hope / head full of dreams" he sings, and the believers nod in agreement. Fools that they are, they listen more: "forever waiting for the bell to ring / lazy afternoons never seem to end / falling out of love and in again". And so on, and so on with more words about "could’ve beens" and "struggles" in an adult life. And the nods turn to sighs. Fools that we are, we believe, unless we listen, unless we felt it and know what it truly was. Seymour’s voice gives away the real experience. It’s broken, raspy, anguished, pained. This is not a voice of wistful longing, it’s the ironic voice of knowledge. Seymour skillfully sets the song up for those whose lives did pinnacle in those days, he boxes around the cliché and then moves in for the kill when he presents the chilling evidence: "best of luck best of friends / thanks for all the memories / I’ll miss you stay in touch / the world holds great things for us". Nary and ounce of irony, not a moments hesitation before he swings again – "how did we ever survive / the best years of our lives". He could just as easily being saying "lies" at the end of that line, but he lets the mood of the piece do that for you. And the more you listen, the more it does sound like he’s singing "lies" not "lives", because he is exorcising the myth the only way he knows how. Laced over piano and hip-hopping drum lines "Memories of High School" is utterly beguiling.

A Thousand Tarzans is the baffling title of this record by the equally enigmatic Seymour. Although he could be tabbed as a singer/songwriter, that term has been horribly bastardized by an unfortunate history in the folksy realm of rock and roll and it connotes a pathetic whimpiness that Seymour isn’t familiar with, this record is a leap ahead of that game. Aside from the warmth of the opening "Dark and Stormy" and the darkly brilliant "Memories" Seymour conveys a set of shockingly good songs that contiguously set him in the company of some of the finest writers working today. It is a compliment of the highest order to say that Seymour compares most favorably to the early Peter Case solo work. His voice has the same knowing quality and his phrasing, writing, and acoustic work all echoes the best work of Case. But Seymour also fuels his approach with a spiritual soulfulness that displays a range of interests crossing a whole mess of boundaries. It’s a shocking confidence that belies such a youthful talent, but it’s also a fine introduction to a talent that will deepen as it grows. A little too folksy at times (Seymour staggers you though when he drops drum loops and other tidbits into the arrangements) but armed with songs as strong as iron, A Thousand Tarzans portends a future worth facing.

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