More than anything, Fuse, and its predecessor, 1996's Trampoline, remind me of Suzanne Vega's 99.9 F. The formula is essentially the same: staid folk-rocker known for painstaking lyrical narratives backed by pleasant, if conservative, arrangements gets bored, discovers loops and dissonance and a bit of the old Daniel Lanois, and heads for oblique pastures lyrically. The results: sensational.
Trampoline, with its turned-on-one-ear cabaret clank and droning Page Hamilton guitar, could pass for a demo for Fuse, an opulent, sexy record that draws on early ‘70s, midnight funk and soul. Superb tracks like "Angels", "Fuse" and "Want Too Much" seduce with whipscratch guitars, sauntering beats, muted keyboard themes and cinematic string washes. Henry has modified his woodgrain, plainsy voice into a scenery-chewing instrument of dark obsession. Now, he always sings like he's sitting on a stool with sweet wine on his breath and one spotlight on him.
Fuse's lyrical content is simple: Joe's woman has hit the road and he's sitting around having some unusual thoughts on the matter. Care of the departed's monkey is discussed on the opening "Monkey". Stunning wordplay is everywhere ("my love is like a mountain/her mouth is like a mine/incubating diamonds as we rise and shine/rolling over granite/there's a smell like plums and clay/if I know my angels, they'll take it all away").
The relatively funkless tracks branch off but only enhance the mood: "Skin and Teeth" is a driving, Chris Whitley-like single. "Curt Flood" is a punishing instrumental trip-hoppy enough for Beth Gibbons to wail over. "Beautiful Hat" sets mournful resignation against New Orleans hangover horns. "Great Lake" spreads its wings for an expansive drone. And a cover of the 1930s ballad "We'll Meet Again" caps the album perfectly, with Henry singing like a hero in a colorized musical.
Henry has succeeded in making an album almost as weird as Trampoline while at the same time settling into a practically decadent groove. Rest assured that no one else who's covered in No Depression is doing anything like this.
--Lane Hewitt