Album Reviews

Cass McCombs: Tip Of The Sphere

Cass McCombs

Tip Of The Sphere

Videos by American Songwriter

(Anti-/Epitaph)

Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

Just when you think youโ€™ve figured out Cass McCombs, he confounds your expectations by throwing a curve. Ultimately, itโ€™s that sense of surprise that makes his music so interesting. 

Even though the indie singer/songwriterโ€™s output has been prolific (he delivered two full discs in 2011), the nearly three year break between this โ€” his ninth โ€” and 2016โ€™s well-received Mangy Love, is his longest between releases. On initial listen, Tip of the Sphere feels like a logical successor to Mangy Love. Little has changed in McCombsโ€™ easy flowing, some might say laconic, songs and everyman talk-sung voice. As usual, his lyrics range from impressionistic to impossibly enigmatic. Opening track โ€œI Followed the River South to Whatโ€ never uses that phrase in the body of the song. And with chin-scratching couplets like โ€œAre you ashamed to beg, your youth in full power?/Power corrupts! Iโ€™m building a cinnamon towerโ€ we are firmly in McCombsโ€™ territory. But the music is so smooth, lush and inviting with its cyclical guitar figure, Grateful Dead styled bass line (courtesy of Dan Horne, this discโ€™s secret weapon who is also credited with the mix), and subtly urgent drums, that you just go with the flow for 7 ยฝ minutes. 

The relatively upbeat pop of โ€œThe Great Train Robberyโ€ is the most accessible moment. Sounding like a Steve Miller B-side it tells the titular story but in true McCombs tradition the tale shifts from a train to a boat, and the resolution is unclear. Elsewhere the intriguingly named โ€œSidewalk Bop after Suicideโ€ sets up a feeling where words such as โ€œIโ€™ve bled, puked and cried here/And dreamt I was deadโ€ mesh with the slow, somewhat ominous guitar chords and creepy synthesizers that underlie the music. 

Pedal steel infuses an off-center, understated country vibe to some cuts like the dreamy โ€œPrayer for Another Day.โ€ Here the โ€œmagic mirrorโ€ referred to is reflected in music that floats on a bed of acoustic guitar and McCombsโ€™ usual deadpan voice inviting the listener into his Black Mirror world. The mood gets decidedly darker and more nightmarish on โ€œAmerican Canyon Sutre,โ€ the only time McCombs overdubs all the instruments, where he mostly speaks the lyrics about our crumbling countryโ€™s social infrastructure.  

There are elements of Van Morrisonโ€™s more experimental work on the soft โ€œTying Up Loose Endsโ€ as McCombs shifts into falsetto and adds Jerry Garcia-styled guitar, Moog and sax to the softly rolling music. But just when you think you have him figured out, the closing 10 minute-plus โ€œRounderโ€ featuring the quizzical โ€œWere a radio gunslung/Were a murdream boysroom/On a slight jadeselfโ€ pushes outside of even McCombโ€™s most oblique concepts. The sweet, unassuming tune evolves into a sort of โ€œRiders on the Stormโ€ groove complete with a luscious electric piano and pedal steel solo.  

The production, arrangements and overall audio are beautifully crafted, McCombsโ€™ askew concepts are, well โ€ฆ intriguing, and this hour long album is another impressive notch in the belt of a talented artist whose unusual, often offbeat approach is what makes him so distinctive, entrancing and appealing.