Darryl Blood may be my spirit animal. Every time I listen to one of his songs, I think to myself, “that sounds like something I’d do!” Nah, I’m giving myself far too much credit. Still, there are so many little touches in his arrangements that hit my sweet spots and cause me to do silent fist pumps.
Case in point: “Broken Book,” the 15th track on this quarter’s Ball of Wax. The opening notes, played on a faraway piano in a wind tunnel with no wind, quickly morph into a piano in a parlor down the hall with the entrance of the song’s slow and steady drum work. Barely eight seconds in and there’s one of those touches that I live for in music—the kind that reward headphone listening in particular—a sound, slightly left of center, that could be a wooden foot dragging on a concrete floor with each second and fourth beat. And after the first 20 seconds, it’s gone, clearing space for Blood’s dry, husky voice.
What follows is the wordplay of a studied acolyte of the sonneteers—not so much their ten syllables per each of fourteen lines or even their convoluted rhyme schemes, but more their ability to relate in layers and metaphor an otherwise mundane emotion. Whether the language involves dutchesses and kings, talking like a drone, or my personal favorite bit, “where the preface does your bidding,” there’s something to be found in the listening.
With great difficulty, of course. As I mentioned, Blood’s works offer sonic surprises at every turn, including silence (see my earlier review on his song “The Staircase”), beautifully-manipulated guitars, a pinch of backmasking, and that haunted drag that returns to close the song out. Open this broken book and have a read or two.
Ball of Wax 55 release show: Borders