Ode to Colin Meloy

I seem to have a preference for those vocalists who are strange, challenging, unpredictable, idiosyncratic and creative.

I love listening to something and then having to rethink everything I’ve ever heard as a result; something that leaves my mind as frazzled as the stylus on my record player. First there was Bowie, Byrne, Lou Reed, Joni Mitchell, Bjork, Kate Bush. They all seemed to have something important to say, even if it was gobbledegook, even if it was lo-fi lazy bullshit attitude, even if it was depression or maybe psychedelia…they all left us with classic albums to taste the buzz of the oral extraordinaire whilst each was at their peak. Sometimes I feel that our parents had it better than us.

But if out of all of the modern-day new-wave eccentrics I could single out only a few vocalists who I thought had the same longevity and timeless quality to their voices as those great artists of old, among them would be The Decemberists’ Colin Meloy. Not only can this quiet man tell a story like he was at a Grimm & Anderson dinner party for bored housewives, he tells with a voice so captivating, so inquisitive and expression-laden that it is impossible not to listen to every word, every utterance, every inflection as his voice soars effortlessly to the misshapen and tragic ending of each twisted tale. Meloy’s voice has an earthy quality, instinctive and empathic…that same, down-pull and lo-fi sincerity that first exploded in some of the indie bands of the late eighties/early nineties. And set against the backdrop of acoustic guitars and careful arrangements, concept albums and descriptive lyrics about other people’s lives, it almost feels as though he’s reading from a storybook.

To me Colin Meloy is one of those vocalists that exists somewhere between reality and a fairytale – he’s too good to be true. So then, perhaps we don’t have it that bad afterall.

The Decemberists – ‘O’Valencia!’: