The debut album from Brooklyn-based singer-songwriter Derek Weaving is the equivalent to a late-night summer’s fog. That’s a strange metaphor to open a review, I know, so let me explain: The thick mist coats the skin, cool compared to the warm air but far from cold. If anything, It feels refreshing after an evening spent in a club packed with too many people—and we’ve all been there, right?
The music reminds me of the sonic baubles and bangles that reverberated from dorm-room stereos in the mid-1980s. I’m thinking specifically of bands like Rain Parade, whose laidback soundscapes mesmerized a subset of what was then dubbed the MTV generation. Weaving incorporates the multi-colored hues of soft psychedelia into his folky songs, which teem with gentle guitar and his warm baritone. Accompanying him are such likeminded travelers as his former Tiny Hazard bandmates Alena Spanger (vocals, keyboards), Ryan Weiner (drums, guitar, banjo) and Ronald Stockwell (drums), plus James Woodall (pedal steel), Lip Talk’s Sarah Pedenotti (vocals, keyboards) and Little Mystery’s Ivy Meissner (vocals). Weiner also produced.
The 10-track set opens with an atmospheric intro before “Time to Go,” a country-inflected tune inspired by his grandmother-in-law, comes into focus; it reminds me somewhat of David Crosby’s “Carry Me,” a stellar song from Crosby & Nash’s Wind on the Water LP, about his dying mother’s desire to slip into the afterlife. “Wide Bright” wafts in on a gentle breeze while rejoicing on the instant attraction between likeminded souls, while the moving “Moon” explores the phases and stages of relationships, from the lofty moments when everything seems perfect to the turbulent air pockets that jolt us back to Earth.
“Cloud” floats through the air, just about, while Weaving contemplates matters of the soul. The mood continues with “Blue Stone,” which adds a fuzzy guitar to match an epiphany of a sort. (To borrow a line from another Crosby song, “Just when you think you’re going insane, you lie naked in the rain.”) The atmospheric “Only Plants Live Here” matches the working molecules of herbs and flowers in pace while encouraging us to plant our hearts where it will grow. “Who” mines into the disconnect that sometimes exists between mind and body, body and home, all while a storm threatens to upend everything. “Soil,” for its part, digs into the dirt of a faltering relationship, while the delightful “Keep on Tryin’,” the album closer, sums up all that came before with a soft shuffle worthy of Townes and/or Prine.
In short, Webs is a lilting song cycle that’s well worth many listens. We are an imperfect lot, humans, yet somehow our strengths and weaknesses complement the weaknesses and strengths of others. How and why love sprouts through the cracks of the sidewalk that is life is mystery, I suppose, but it does.
The Old Grey Cat 