Reviews of:

Distant Hearts, A Little Closer

Imagine putting several centuries of bloody history -- dead kings, ruthless mutinies, prison riots, famine, cannibalism, rape -- and encasing them in the fragile shell of a sprawling Dublin-based lo-fi band with poets scribbling out the words and a genius at the boards. That's what you get with the Joan of Arse's excellent new album Distant Hearts, A Little Closer, which ditches their lo-fi scratch for some precision sonics courtesy of Steve Albini, and which features some of the finest lyrics I've heard in some time (though I can't for the life of me figure out which band member wrote them). You'd think the band's name is intended to mock the power of history, but these guys have obviously absorbed a millennium of blood trails and laid them out in a beautifully conceived series of tunes that put arseholes, uprisings, and angst into unique perspective. The sound ranges from Dirty Three dirges to old-timey Feelies raveups. Plus you get to stare at the astounding cover art by Low's Zak Sally.

At seven songs clocking in at 45 minutes, the album is sometimes noisy, but mostly it's a dreamy, melancholy downer, stripped of self-pity but still creaking like an old boat. Steve Albini's steady hand at the boards apparently forced some discipline into the boys, because these tunes are quite a departure from the anarchy of Arse's first album Out to Sea. The opener, "The Slaves Are in the Galley, Sharpening their Oars" has the crashing chords and brave sing-speak of an old Pavement tune, creating the impression that you're about to get some hi-fi variations of the Arse's old lo-fi scratch. Although the sharpened oars of the lyrics don't exactly split your skull right away, they do detail a potent source of class (or maybe nationalist) rage: "You eat your young for your breakfast / So we laced you kids with arsenic, you've sure gone pale." It's a great start, but then the album slows up so fast you'll get whiplash.

Not exactly slo-core, not exactly dirge, the next three tunes wobble on a sagging tightrope between beauty's sky and languor's floor. Hooked by a Neil-Young style harmonica "Things Asleep in the Sun" is a tough-hearted ballad that details a fascinating character, part-asshole part-genius. I'm not sure if the subject is someone we all know (Jackson Pollock? Shane MacGowan?), but it's an enchanting portrait: "He's eating off the floor and he's playing in the dirt / With all the babies. / Evolution saw him sleeping and decided it was best / Just not to wake him." The song ends on a crescendo of sea-chantey-style singing, and before you know it the album's centerpiece, "A Spell Cast With Fingers", begins snaking it's way round your temporal lobe.

I'll be honest with you: the first time I heard "Spell Cast With Fingers", I hated it. Painfully slow, with high-pitched vocals and mandolins and violins and the overall feel of a tedious slo-core trad-piece, I just couldn't get with it. But then it never left me: now I wake up hungover with the damn thing ringing out in my heart and spleen, and it's one of the best songs of 2002 by any measure. Unlike most of our pomo stabs at tradition (cf. Will Oldham), this song doesn't cling to the shore, but actually ventures out into the open sea, and when the gale comes the tune braves it. You'll feel it when the voice abruptly turns from tenderness to menace about midway through, and when the violins and mandolins start layering themselves into anarchy.The words are an astounding evocation of the bitterness and pain in a loveless coupling: "He'd cum raw as gravel /That tore its way in to your womb. / The child clawed to stay in /Like the secret in your hand." Dark as whiskey and just as wet, I play this tune when the slow-boil of existential rage starts in. Not daily, exactly, but often enough.

Another ponderous one slips in and out at the close of Side A. "Was Christ Among Us That Night" starts out as an atmospheric piano-and-voice piece with above-average lovey-dovey lyrics ("We're at the start of a memory / That I'll hold deep in my heart"). Takes a while, but the dynamics do change and finally there's some loud bass, shredded feedback and a veritable cacophony of wonderful words with insects rushing into the house and dogs curling at their feet.

Side B is noisier and wordier. "The Bellringers Warning & Other Stories" has a nice openhearted guitar-crunch that whips through the adenoidal vocals, but the best part is the guitar pileup toward the end, a wrenching and beautiful noise blast that probably brought a twinkle to Albini's jaded eye. And oh yeah: the tune itself a wonderfully detailed story of regicide and revolution: "The last thing the disgraced king sees as the noose goes round his neck / Is a stranger walking away paying no attention to his death." This heartwarming tale leads directly into the epic-at-ten-minutes "At the Feet of St. Peter", which has the spare, rhythmic dynamics of an old Feelies track, but with some noisy and riotous guitar'n'drum raveups as the tune unspools.

Finally, we all get charmed by the beautiful closer, "Watching Films with the Sound Down". Mandolin and accordion get you all weepy as you listen to this heart-wrenching recollection of loves past: "In the working place they think I'm drinking / But the bags beneath my eyes are full of love." I'm not sure exactly what they mean when they quote Cat Stevens toward the end, but it works.

In the end you're left with a sublime, exhausted feeling, as if too many nasty tragedies and heroic uprisings have circled round your head in under an hour. In a way, it's a real achievement, and it's a relief to see a band that stays away from navel-gazing, selfish melodrama, or randomizing when they stir up their lyrics. Joan of Arse are a necessary corrective, and it's nice to see that "post-rock" has circled back to the solid ground.

- Mark Desrosiers, Popmatters.com

If the first two albums from Dublin's Joan Of Arse were inspired but sonically scratchy affairs, Distant Hearts stresses a new-found meatiness to accompany a serious leap in songwriting ability. Recorded in Chicago by Steve Albini, it opens with The Slaves Are In The Galley, Sharpening Their Oars, a mutinous tale that continues the sea-faring mood of the band's debut, Lost At Sea, the crisp guitar stabs heralding a rock album with a tactile live sound. Things Asleep In The Sun marks the Arse's finest moment yet. Redolent with the Bearded Lady's familiar earthy language, everything from musicianship to melody to melancholy to the glorious shout-a-long chorus points straight at greatness. Was Christ Among Us That Night is stripped-down yet explosive, the Bearded One's vocals nothing short of transfixed passion. Topped off with the exquisite artwork of Zak Sally from Low, Distant Hearts is presented as the absolute artefact.

5/5 - Leagues O'Toole, Irish Times

This oddly-monickered Dublin quartet's vibrant take on 20 years of American alternative rock has produced one of the best albums of 2001. It blends the plaintive folk meandering of Neil Young and Will Oldham with the guitar-duelling, sinewy rock of Television and Built To Spill, while the frontman Ross Hackett is one of the precious few writers whose caustic, complex lyrics stand up better as poetry. The presence of Steve Albini in the producer's chair underlines the pedigree of this challenging and intense record.

4/5 - Martin Aston, The Times, Play section

Recorded by Steve Albini and tempered with the ancient rustic vibes of Songs:Ohia, this Dublin quartet's second album represents an excellent journey of angular rock. Comparisons to Pavement are inevitable, although this is a slower, even quirkier brand of slacker cool, deserving widespread exposure.

4/5 - Tim Perry, The Independent

Joan of Arse is the kind of stupid, misleading, one-joke name only a band confident of their own quality could embrace. The Dublin four-piece travelled to Chicago, where "arse" has no meaning, to record their second album under the auspices of the producer Steve Albini, whose work with Low, Shellac and the post-rock progenitors Slint delineated the landscape Joan of Arse occupy. Distant Hearts, A Little Closer alternates minimal, fiddle-led rustic primitivism with big, dirty slabs of noise and non-ironic guitar heroics. Anaemic shadows of the 1970s New York guitar gurus Television linger in the structure of its most ambitious, extended track, At the Feet of St Peter, and in the gradual swell and dissipation of Was Christ Among Us That Night, the urge to rock is admirably resisted.

Stewart Lee, Sunday Times

With the advances (and falling prices) in home recording technology there’s often a temptation for so called indie bands to become insular and dismissive of outside influences in the art of making music. And sometimes it works but for every "Last Post’, ‘Redneck Manifesto’ and every ‘Asteroids’ there’s a heap of music completed without the necessary experienced hand to make it complete. Many years ago it seemed that Dublin band Pet Lamb had it cracked when they to New York and recorded an absolutely cracking classic (but sadly unreleased) album with producer Martin Bisi. Unlike Pet Lamb, Joan Of Arse are bereft of the even minimal backing of a decent sized record label and hence their ambition (well okay maybe Steve Fanagan’s ambition) to go and record with Steve Albini shouldn’t be underestimated. First there’s the cost and then there’s the fact that you’ve got to record with Steve Albini. The Pixies, PJ Harvey, Shellac, Dirty Three, Nirvana, insert your own favourites. the prospect of being recorded by this short, bespecled, stunningly talented and generally misrepresented legend must have caused sleepless nights not to mention brown trousers. And somehow they’ve pulled the whole thing out of the bag, they’ve got the album done and it sounds great (it even sounds great in a Steve Albini sort of way). To cap it all, they’ve got Zak Sally from Low to do the artwork which is quite simply utterly stunning, the best artwork on an Irish album since An Emotional….only joking, the best artwork on an Irish album ever. And the music, well The ‘Arse have always made a left of field racket but when ‘The Slaves Are In The Galley’ comes sprinting out of the traps, well you have to name that dog Buffalo Tom with the staying power, dual harmonies and ferocious drumming to match. But it’s not all ‘Birdbrain’ glory, ‘Things Asleep In The Sun’ opens up with a most beautiful harmonica and yes, you’re thinking Neil Young but the wonderful appearance of the pink pirate choral group (consisting of The ‘Arse, Jason Mollina and Dan Sullivan, both from Songs : Ohia and Steve Fanagan) provide a truly transcendal moment which makes the choice of Albini truly perfect. Throughout, Suzanne Roberts haunting violin and Shane McGrath’s mandolin shine while it’s not everyday you get an accordion on a record with the word Arse on the cover. Final track ‘Watching Films With The Sounds Turned Down’ is something magical but there’s loads more here to be going on with, ‘Distant Hearts, A Little Closer’ is that rare beast, an indie album where the band transcend their own (sometimes too obvious) influences and end up with great art. Truly special with not a bum track on it.

Album of the Issue - Dave Roberts, The Event Guide

If you're in Dublin airport and you meet an Irish musician - particularly of the wistfully disgruntled guitar-playing variety - chances are they just got off a flight from Chicago where Steve Albini is running a Summer school in wistfully disgruntled guitar playing (20 per cent discount if you're Irish). Latest graduates are Dublin's Joan Of Arse (yes, it is the coolest band name in history). The problem with Mr. Albini is that if you come to him with a pig's ear, you leave with a pig's ear. Luckily the 'Arse (as their known) came with silk purse in hand. Albini has done for Joan Of Arse what he did for the Pixies, Nirvana and PJ Harvey - stripped away everything, so that what you hear is the song and not the production. This will only work if there's a glimmer of brilliance in the songwriting; luckily by the end of track one, The Slaves Are In The Galley Sharpening Their Oars, there is little doubt. Still, it's easy to be misled by the first track on an album so, braced for disappointment, I listened on. The second track, Things Asleep In The Sun, contains one of the best lyrics I've heard in years: 'Evolution saw him sleeping and decided it was best not to wake him, ' while 'It's A Bad Day In The Office' has a riff that Tom Verlaine would be proud of. Only 7 songs long, but each one could hold an album together on it's own. Expect to get sick of hearing about the Arse.

- Rory O'Keeffe, The Dubliner

The slaves are in the galley, sharpening their oars. With Distant hearts…JOA seem to be plotting their own revolution, ready to overturn fakes and frauds and poised to take over with a proletarian victory. Armed with an arsenal of razor edged guitar, drums that sound like bullets flying through the air, and the melodically haunting vocals of the bearded lady, the time is right, and with Things Asleep in the Sun, possibly their finest moment to date they win their opening battle, leaving rows of talentless pretenders lying face down, dead in the dirt.
This record is as beautifully delicate and fragile as one could possible imagine, but yet it's so deeply powerful, rising to every crescendo of chewed up angst and each impassioned battle-cry. A Spell cast with fingers is an eerie masterpiece with almost disturbing high pitched shrieking vocals that allow us a brief insight into pure torture and despair right from it's opening lament; "we carried around this love like a still born child". In spite of its brilliance however, A Spell cast…is merely a fitting prelude for Was Christ among us that night, a 10 minute epic and isolated vignette, that is stapled with the beautiful flagship moment of "there's all these silences, they're filling up the room with songs of love and trust." It captures a quieter side of JOA and one that is none less mythical and magical than their rawk out moments, like The Bellringer's Warning - a perfectly executed shot of revenge and a final spear through the heart of the enemy. Yet what's most apparent on Distant Hearts, a work of great majesty and beautifully-timed complexity, is that JOA aren't afraid of anything.

Michelle Dalton, Eclectic Honey

What is it with Steve Albini and Irish bands these days? They must have built a tunnel running from Whelans to Chicago. Joan Of Arse are the latest locals to be touched by the hand of Albini, and the results are pretty great. The band's first album was marred by sounding like it was recorded in a damp shed, but the charmingly titled Distant Hearts, A Little Closer shows them making a giant stride forward. At times it's all low-key and Oldham-esque folky, at times it sounds like a rocking, gothic Neil Young, and at times it sounds a little bit like an Irish version of Pavement, all of which are good things. Excellent.

4/5 - Anna Carey, Sunday Tribune