The Folk Implosion, Lou Barlow’s side project from his side project, are releasing their first album in 21 years. As with every side project, Folk Implosion was created as a way for Barlow to explore musical terrain not appropriate to his then-main squeeze, Sebadoh. While still falling comfortably into the lo-fi indie world that he helped create, Folk Implosion are a little more adventurous, incorporating strings, synths and the like.
Even amidst the comparatively complex arrangement of opening ‘Crepuscular’ we have tinny drum thwacks and Barlow’s lackadaisical, plaintive vocals. It may be well produced, but there’s still a decidely lo-fi, or low-key, atmosphere. ‘Little Lamb’ is exemplary in the way guitars and electronics are layered over the foundational blocks that make up any Barlow tune, as well as painting a vivid pictures of the worries that plague every parent. Ultimately he seems like a man at peace, though, ending with “the more we give, the more we grow.” It’s an sentiment of acceptance that reoccurs in different forms a few times, though occasionally to eye rolls as with “be the one you love to be” on the title track.
The three songs helmed by Folk Implosion’s other half, John Davis, are somewhat jarring to begin with as his reedy, urgent vocals contrast sharply with Barlow, but the musical choices are often more interesting, like the use of Middle Eastern strings on ‘Water Torture’ (perhaps questionable given the lyrical content) and the sparkling synths of ‘Bobblehead Doll’. Davis is more explicit in his subject matter, as on the touching ode to his late father, ‘The Day You Died’ and the blunt takedown of American imperialism, ‘Water Torture’. The latter is a little heavy-handed in its commentary (the same is true of ‘O.K. to Disconnect’s insipid look at tech dependence), and could’ve benefited from some of the nuance that makes ‘Bobblehead Doll’ and ‘My Little Lamb’ album standouts.
After twenty years the identity of The Folk Implosion might be a little fuzzy, but that’s exactly where Barlow thrives, and that’s perfectly suited to this low stakes side project. There are some great songs and a couple of duds without much holding it all together, but that doesn’t matter too much here. Any time you round the bend and hear a nice turn of phrase or melody it’s a reminder of this duo’s obvious talent. On the contemplative closer, ‘Moonlit Kind’, Barlow sings “it’s what I miss when I leave / I’ve always wanted to believe / that there’s a reeeeeeeaason.” He leaves things hanging on that hopeful note and it’s up to us to continue pushing on, even if the path isn’t clear-cut.