Phosphorescent
Aw Come Aw Wry
Misra, 2005

Phosphorescent’s Aw Come Aw Wry answers the question on everyone’s minds: What happens when indie rock looks to America’s Heartland for inspiration?

Using a mixture of Americana, indie, gospel, country, carnival, and polka (whaaa?), Phosphorescent achieves its own sense of identity with Aw Come Aw Wry by crafting an elegant album out of spare and forgotten parts.

The “band” is just one guy, Matthew Houck, accompanied by a slew of contributing musicians and vocalists, including Daniel Rickard on the organ and John Neff on the pedal steel.

There are three songs on the album called “Aw Come Aw Wry.” I don’t know what that phrase means, or if it even means anything. To me it sounds like Texan for “I’ll come, alright” (think Dazed and Confused’s Wooderson’s oft-quoted, “aww wry aww wry aww wry”) ... but I’m a city boy, so what the hell do I know.

The leisurely-paced “Not a Heel,” a moment of introspection on the open trail, immediately sets the tone for the rest of the record, with Houck’s warbly voice layered over sad piano keys and twangy guitar.

“Aw Come Aw Wry #5” is a 45-second intro that slowly and somberly leads into “Joe Tex, These Goddamn Taming Blues (Are Killing Me),” an organ- and horns-tinged country-western ballad that, I swear, has elements of mariachi. But maybe that’s just the horns.

Houck utilizes literally everything but the kitchen sink to make his own brand of carnival-cum-indie sound, boisterously adding bottles, wash tubs, walkie-talkies, xylophones and ukuleles to the mix.

On “Endless Pt. 1,” Houck’s sad cowboy sings a love song to loneliness, ending each verse with a long cry of “endless” that sounds like “aaaaaaaayyyyennndless.” The piano, coupled with his guitar and John Neff’s pedal steel, gives the song a sort of bluegrass, low-country feel.

“Endless Pt. 2” continues what he started with “Pt. 1,” but then turns into a choir-backed hymnal that could be played at a baptism on the shores of some ol’ muddy river. And having recorded the album in a north Georgia farmhouse, that influence was undoubtedly present.

The album is definitely an experiment. And for the most part, it works. The “Aw Come Aw Wry” interludes floating in and out, for instance. The final track, “Nowhere Rd., Georgia, Feb. 21, 2005,” though, isn’t so much a song as it is a recording of a summer storm, complete with birds chirping, rain splashing, and cars driving by on some mystery road. I listened to the whole thing, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did. It’s pretty much one of those new-age nature sounds tapes that high-stress individuals like stockbrokers and insurance salesmen might put in their tape decks on the way home from work so they don’t blow up at the kids during dinner. Or something. By the way, this track is nearly 19 minutes long. So maybe it was relaxing, but who’s got an extra 19 minutes laying around these days?

Fortunately, something does happen on “I Am A Full Grown Man (I Will Lay in the Grass All Day).” Here, Houck regretfully croons in an old school country boy voice, “I can freeze in the place that/gets me free from this taste that/I have in my heart.” And maybe that’s what this album most aspires to be – an old-school country album devoid of the radio-friendly hooks that have turned contemporary country into boot-stomping, pop garbage. This is the country of Hank Williams, Patsy Cline, Johnny Cash and their peers.

Aw Come Aw Wry is all regret and hardship and sadness. It’s also quite raw and beautiful. And when’s the last time you could say that about country music?