MARCH 1996
Since Idaho’s debut disc in 1993, leader Jeff Martin has
been a one-man show. Alone in the studio with the tape rolling, Martin often
conjures a lovely, devastating starkness. Perhaps he echoed the loneliness of a
man without a band, the sole purveyor of a groove so blue, so choked up he could
scarcely share it with anyone. For Three Sheets..., though, Martin loosened up
and finally hired a band. He still monopolizes the Idaho sound, handling voice,
keys and guitar, but now he utilizes the diverse sensibilities of a band
dynamic to achieve his profound melancholia.
Though the Idaho sound is a delicately crafted one, Martin
and company handle it roughly here, as if cracking a tune in two with a harsh
strain of feedback or an off key vocal is good for it. As a singer, Martin cuts
across the quiet grain of his songs like an indie
rock Chet Baker. As a guitarist he checks in with
frequent minor chords, and his occasional acoustic shimmer is reminiscent of
Nick Drake. Occasionally, as on “Alive Again,” Martin captures the lyrical
angst of late-period American Music Club.
In light of all of these (favorable) comparisons, Idaho still
manages to sound very much like Idaho. The tasteful string arrangement on “Glass
Bottom” nearly weeps with sadness, and you can sense Martin profound loneliness
on tracks like “Staring At The Sky” and “Shame.” The
only difference is that now the bandleader shares that isolation with a band,
making the experience of listening to Three Sheets... simultaneously lovely and
despondent, uplifting and heartsick.
Bob Gulla