Reviews and Press info...
Attn: reviewers wishing to review The Derby
Ram and radio stations wishing to add it to playlists...
European press and radio requests should be directed to
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ANOMOANON: PRESS: BLURBS:
joji press...
MOJO: Prolific runs the plasma of the Oldham clan, as Ned’s Anomoanon roll out
their second full-length produced by brother Paul within a year. Shearing away
the spry melodies of predecessor The Derby Ram, Joji draws dark arterial from
backwoods bedrock with Joji . Their second full-length produced by brother Paul
within a year, Joji mines a country mile adjacent to My Morning Jacket's, just
beyond the burning barn of Crazy Horse. As Garth Hudson did for the Band, keyboardist
David Heumann introduces an oddball element, his synthesizer solo transforming
the harmonica-laced “Down And Brown” into brackish psychedelia. Dueling lead
lines scuttle like Chesapeake Bay crabs across guitarist Aram Stith's folksy
contribution “Green Sea,” where one couplet encapsulates the album's enticing
yet ultimately austere tone: “Walk with me baby down the black sand beach/walk
with me baby but stay just out of reach.” Peter Relic
BALTIMORE CITY PAPER:We’ve always demurred from plugging Ned Oldham’s
journeys with his Anomoanon because of Oldham’s occasional writing flirtations
with City Paper, but with his seventh album (and second this year alone), Joji,
we couldn’t be coy anymore. Oldham’s songwriting has always displayed
traces of country folk and psychedelic-tinged 1970s Southern rock, but on Joji
he seamlessly blends the rustic with the lysergic and then transports the combo
back to a late 1800’s porch and lets the wind and soil wear workmen’s
calluses into the songs’ souls.
PITCHFORK MEDIA: Imagine clawing through an overgrown vegetable garden by moonlight,
mud pushing up under your fingernails, dandelions displaced, soil shooting everywhere,
a haphazard mound of earthworms, pebbles, and bits of grass rising high into
the night, while tiny streams of sweat snake down the back of your dirt-flaked
neck. It's here that the Anomoanon's Joji seems destined to be found, burrowed
out from the wet earth, caked in clay, beloved by ants. There's something unsettlingly
familiar about Joji, the Anomoanon's seventh full-length-- it might be because
the six-piece resuscitates and revises a variety of classic rock gestures, or
because their sound is so oddly, eerily organic, or because vocalist/guitarist
Ned Oldham's high, throaty, Kentucky-born warble can sound disconcertingly similar
to younger brother Will's. But mostly, it's how Joji sounds like above-ground
pools and paper cups full of lemonade, like fireflies in mayonnaise jars and
rusty sprinklers, country cottages and snap peas: it's Americana without the
pre-packaged kitsch-- all ground and sky and precious American ritual. Joji
sounds like a record made by mountains. For the most part, Joji eschews the
light, snappy melodies and traditional lyrics of its predecessor, The Derby
Ram, in favor of woodsy, instantly addictive country-folk dirges. Given Oldham
and guitarist Aram Stith's fondness for scrappy electric solos, it's not particularly
surprising that the Anomoanon are routinely compared to On the Beach-era Neil
Young and/or the Grateful Dead circa American Beauty-- but keyboardist Dave
Heumann's psych-infused squiggles lend Joji a dark, celestial swagger that's
more Floydian than anything else (see, especially, mesmerizing opener "Down
and Brown"). Joji has its share of folkier moments, too-- the instrumental "After
Than Before" features 12-string noodling, puttering bass, and minimal percussion,
while the plucky, Stith-penned "Green Sea" is singalong-ready, anchored around
a honky guitar melody, six-man harmonizing, and Oldham's shrugging vocals ("Your
socks and shoes are filled with sand/ Your heart is beating for another man").
Joji confidently follows its own ebbs and flows, and, consequently, can occasionally
feel a bit jammy-- but before you conjure drum circles, handmade pants, and
Birkenstock clogs, know that the Anomoanon are always, always purposeful about
their wankery, and some of the extended instrumentation included here (see the
excellent "Wedding Song", which flits, over the course of its 10 staggering
minutes, from waltz to 4/4 and back to waltz) is genuinely impressive. Joji
may periodically flirt with gothic undertones, but it ultimately plays like
a warm, comforting slice of deep American rock-- recognizable and exciting all
at once. -Amanda Petrusich, February 10, 2005
POPMATTERS: Like their fellow Kentuckians in My Morning Jacket, the guys of
the Anomoanon like their jams countrified and Southern-fried. On their seventh
album, the band, led by Ned Oldham (brother of Will [Palace Brothers, et al]
Oldham), strings together tunes that manage to be dusty, swampy and gothic all
at once. Whether it's the eight-and-a-half minute loping opener, "Down
and Brown", where a reverb-soaked Oldham sonically kicks at the dust on
the ground, the Neil Young/Crazy Horse-esque "Green Sea", or the ten-minute-long
waltz of "Wedding Song", the band explores country-rock at a leisurely,
but confident pace. But unlike My Morning Jacket, the Anomoanon have the good
sense to only put eight songs on their album; any more tracks and folks would
get lost in the band's dense forest of songs. Too, credit Oldham and co. for
jamming without devolving into aimless wankery; they pull apart songs like "Leap
Alone" and "After Than Before" and stitch them back together
before the listener gets disoriented (or disinterested). Jam bands could learn
a thing or two from the Anomoanon; sign these guys up for Bonnaroo.
— Stephen Haag
MUNDANE SOUNDS: Spaced-out banjo, misty harmonica and some of the best rural
vocal harmonies I've heard in ages are but three reasons why I've totally fallen
for Joji, the latest release by Baltimore's The Anomoanon. Led by Ned Oldham,
The Anomoanon has been making music that happily defies and bastardizes the
genres of folk, country and rock, and the resulting sound is something unique,
something different--yet you'd be hard-pressed to consider it anything less
than "traditional." Considering that they've not only released albums of original
material, but also have released a tribute record to late Who bassist John Entwhistle
and two albums that set Mother Goose rhymes and Robert Lewis Stevenson's A Child's
Garden of Verses to music, "traditional" is hardly the word one would use to
describe The Anomoanon. If you're a sucker for music that's honest, Joji will
quickly win you over. Oldham's singing--which sounds hauntingly identical to
brother Will--has a quality that makes you instantly believe every word he sings.
Though he's hardly going for an 'everyman' persona, you'll be captured by his
haunted, simple voice, which will leave you feeling that he speaks wisdom when
he sings his songs about heartbreak, God, life and love. In many passages, when
he sings his words are accompanied by multiple voices, which makes his words
even more striking. In "Green Sea," when he sings of an unfaithful love, the
voices accent the last words of each verse, to dramatic affect. Just listen
for the line "your heart is beating for another man,"and quickly you'll feel
what it's like to realize your lover has been unfaithful. Because the music
often goes into extended instrumental passages, featuring acoustic guitars,
pianos, banjos and other good 'rustic' music, there's an understandable temptation
to say "Grateful Dead," but that's wrong. Still, The Anomoanon is more than
just Ned Oldham's singing; he's got a whole troupe of fine backing musicians,
and when they stretch their musical muscles on "After That Before," "Down and
Brown," "Wedding Song" or "Nowhere," you really don't mind, because they sound...real...good.
There's something enjoyable about people getting together and vamping and playing
off of each other. Just don't call The Anomoanon a jam band--because, well,
they're better than that. Personally, I'm a sucker for banjo, piano and acoustic
guitars, and all three of those instruments are used here, and they're used
quite wonderfully. Joji is music for pitchin' woo on a Friday night, sittin'
on the porch on a Saturday night and for getting over your hangover on a Sunday
morning. Joji is a collection of simple folkified country rock songs that sound
like nothing you've ever heard, yet they sound exactly like you'd expect from
a bunch of Appalachian musicians. Joji is a great record, period. --Joseph Kyle
DELUSIONS OF ADEQUACY: The spectre of anachronism has become currency to many
artists mining the hallowed vaults of the legends that preceded them. There
is a distinct demarcation line that either succeeds in capturing and resonating
with relevance and spirit or fails miserably as a transparent faux-pastiche
of paint-by-numbers 60s/70s nostalgia (see Lenny Kravitz). The saving grace
in the recent works of Devendra Banhart, Jukeboxer, and even My Morning Jacket
is their unique adaptation and ability to jettison the debris of nostalgia by
making what was so liberating and uplifting in this “by-gone era” seem so relevant
and utterly necessary in 2004. That The Anomoanon’s new album, Joji, can so
effortlessly transcend mere status of quaint antiquity is a revelatory and transcendental
feat of epic proportions. Ned Oldham continues to throw off the shackles of
“second banana” to brother Will Oldham on Joji, as he cultivates gold dust in
the grooves of curios and truck-driving balladry. The Anomoanon spin small miracles
of magic on Joji by merely using a 70s rock-radio framework as a springboard
for deceptively modern and intricate synchronized guitar leads, vocal harmonies
borrowed from the Flying Burrito Brothers, and a taut rhythm section lifted
from On the Beach/Zuma-era Neil Young. The straight-ahead open highway feel
of “Mr.Train” could easily be a Gram Parson’s nugget or outtake from Sweetheart
of the Rodeo-era Byrds, complete with a winding road twin guitar riff that wonderfully
frames the vocal harmonies. “Green Sea” follows with an acute guitar hook and
shuffling backbeat that wouldn’t be out of place on the Meat Puppets classic
Up on the Sun. The real joyous centrepieces are the instrumental “After Than
Before” and “Wedding Song,” the former leading into the latter’s 10-minute paean
to love and loss. “After Than Before” is a swirling 12-string hootenanny, pulsating
with criss-crossing bass and skittering drums. Meanwhile, gently picked country-rock
guitar coda’s dance in between the grooves only to segue into “Wedding Song.”
Ned Oldham’s ruminative lyrical reflections on this track are as astute and
sage as they are poignant with simple and affecting lines like “There’s a room
for my skin / there’s a change that I made and I can’t change back again.” Ned
Oldham’s ability to imbue the main character with a sense of longing and reflection
is palpable in this tale of death and rebirth. Elsewhere, the song ebbs and
flows, reflecting the various stages of the seasons and the main character's
life. “Wedding Song” switches from intimate waltz-time balladry, to mid-tempo
4/4 rock, and then back to a sweeping elegiac instrumental jam waltz. It would
be very easy to merely dismiss this record as an instrument of nostalgia that
is best listened to in your parent’s basement surrounded by faux-wood panelling.
This is a record full of robust, substantive lyricism, intricate harmonies,
and guitars that chime gently as well as rock with FM radio stealth. Where Will
Oldham’s lyricism and storytelling often veers into the on-coming path of dada-ist
absurdity, Ned’s approach is solidly built up from the poignancy of the perfect
turn of phrase or plaintive observation. Although Joji has all the frames of
reference one would expect working within the lumbering 70s-rock paradigm, Ned
Oldham has managed to find an expressive individualism and maturity within the
cracks and shadows of its predecessors, making it ever so remarkable and pertinent.
Gary Jansz
DUSTED: Ned Oldham writes old songs. On Joji, the seventh release (and second
this year) from his band The Anomoanon, the older Palace brother stirs country-folk
and psychedelic pop into a mix that might be called classic, if that denotation
hadn’t been bastardized decades ago. Oldham’s music, while drawing on familiar
influences Neil Young and the Grateful Dead are immediately apparent is
diverse enough that it feels far fresher than a by-the-numbers retread. The
opening track, “Down And Brown,” is straightforward country rock. Oldham’s clear
baritone cuts through the dirty guitar while loose mountain harmonies flesh
out the chorus: “Oh I don’t know why / these things make me / down and brown.”
Previous releases had Oldham writing songs around nursery rhymes (Mother Goose,
Robert Louis Stevenson), and his original lyrics here are similarly rhythmic
and rhetorical. The instrumental breaks are well-placed and focused, rising
and falling in matching intensity. Other songs, such as “Green Sea” and “Bird
Child,” are more folksy, restrained yet energetic with an immediacy sometimes
lacking in the Oldham repertoire… Ned and Co. seem like the type of strangers
who will stick around multiple rounds of whiskey nightcaps before shutting down
the lights: it’s an unfamiliar familiarity, these songs. And as the autumn nights
get longer, these nightcaps are lifesavers for those who can feel the coming
chill in their bones at first daylight. Joji is the record for such days. --Andrew
Mall
PORTLAND MERCURY: Classic rock is a guilty pleasure for a lot of people--an
undeniably powerful, deeply ingrained force--and that's why atavistic throwback
records like Joji feel so good so fast. I can't hum half the choruses on this
CD yet, but I already love it after 2.5 listens. It comes with a big backlog
of classic rock history, ghosts of 30-year-old riffs and bass lines you've heard
on KGON for years. On songs like "After Than Before" and "Nowhere," Ned Oldham
is séancing the spirits of Led Zeppelin's best lacy delicate/orc stomp dynamic
and born-again-era Dylan's whiskery, glare-eyed funk. Ned pulls the indie rock
needle and thread through a hole it doesn't often go through--blues rock--and
knits a warm, already-broken-in sweater you feel like you've had all your life.
Adam Gnade
SPLENDID: For years, the Anomoanon has largely been a family affair: Ned Oldham
is joined by his well-known brothers Paul and Will, as well as David Heumann,
Aram Stith and Jack Carneal. The latter Oldham brothers may not play anything
on Joji (though Paul co-produced the record), but you can sense their warmth
and openness in this collection of loose-ended but compelling tunes. The album
isn't as Norman Rockwell-wholesome as, say, a communal dinner complete with
grace said by Dad... but it approaches the idyll of a joint shared with siblings
during the Christmas trip home. Ned's voice, whose similarity to Neil Young's
has been amply commented upon, is reedy but non-grating, comfortable but not
comforting; the Anomoanon's songs are too bluntly genuine to be escapist. Of
course, Oldham can cloak pain in poetry when he wants to: concerning infidelity
and heartbreak, "Your heart is beating for another man" in "Green Sea" just
about sums it up. Oldham's dysfunctional vignettes are enhanced by the backing
vocals of no less than six people, whose often despondent but usually uplifting
harmonies echo in the space somewhere behind the meandering guitars, banjos
and harmonicas. Frequent instrumental interludes, ranging from a brief, impassioned
guitar solo in "Down and Brown" to the all-out jamming of "Nowhere" and "After
Than Before", threaten to noodle Joji into a state of self-indulgence... but
the sparkling production keeps it from the brink. The Anomoanon's vibe, despite
their sometime sunniness, is more Led than Dead, but they bring it firmly into
the twenty-first century. -- Sarah Zachrich
JUNKMEDIA: You can almost hear the beers hitting room temperature and the dust
crackling under the tapping feet of Ned Oldham & Co. as they ease into this
round of breezy rockers. As opposed to the rural gothica of his better-known
brother Will Oldham, Ned's forte is classic rock. Joji's extended, loose jams
lead listeners down the rabbit hole of '70s California sounds. Opener "Down
and Brown" is a lumbering, eight-minute-plus waltz sturdily built on persistent
electric guitar jabs lifted from Neil Young's heyday. The chorus of "Leap Alone"
relies on falsetto harmonies that could have been charted by The Eagles. The
final six minutes (!) of the epic "Wedding Song," spun from the preceding jam
"After Than Before," is laced together with recycled chords and vibes from the
Grateful Dead's "Wharf Rat." Despite mining decades-old forms, The Anomoanon's
honest rock is hard to dislike. There is no forced musical or lyrical elaboration,
and the songs seem more familiar than unabashedly derivative. The result is
an easygoing album that, while unable to surprise anyone with its charms, satisfies
the classic rock pleasure centers in our brains many of us have ignored for
years. --Jay Breitling
BRAINWASHED: Though Ned Oldham has never needed to live under the shadow of
his family name — like it would be a bad thing if he did — he has recorded music
with his brothers in a number of projects over the years, including his own
The Anomoanon. This has helped shape the style of his music, but on Joji he
steps out large in his own direction, creating one of those records that many
will point to for years to come as the sound that defined the band and others
in the genre. Paul Oldham is the only other family member involved and even
then only at the recording board, but the rest of the group is the same old
reliables that have appeared with Oldham on and off for years, including songwriting
foil Aram Stith. Together they've recorded a batch of songs in the classic bass-two
guitar-drums format, with some extras here and there, and a style that transcends
decades to become a lost batch of recordings by some late sixties roots guitar
rock outfit. Honestly, "Green Sea" could be played on KPIG in Prunedale, CA,
next to John Fogerty and hippie pundits would scarcely notice, maybe filling
the phone lines to ask who it is and didn't they open for Creedence oh so long
ago. It's the sound of revolution, of people who've struggled, of simple stories
about the girl who lived next door and the funny people who used to visit. Maybe
none of those things, but that's certainly the feel of this collection of tunes.
There's buzz from the amps at quieter moments, au naturale, and harmonies that
float above the chords to fill the room with words about teenagers swooning,
running to the hills, not being a fool, and the power of one person. Oldham's
voice is undoubtedly an inspiration of his family's traditional drawl, and yet
cleaner and purer on some level and not as warbly. He sings with the voice of
a heartland troubadour, and his passion can be felt in every note, with the
voices that join him augmenting the impact without overpowering it. The guitar
noodling may be the source of some of those jam band comparisons, but they're
off-base without being offensive — just misinformed like the term "post-rock."
"Down and Brown" is down and dirty, until it reaches its playful and meandering
climax. The old school quasi-R&B groove of "Nowhere" is a definite highlight,
with Oldham's ever clever lyrics punctuating the proceedings. The peak, though,
is the "After Than Before"/"Wedding Song" pairing, with the first song sounding
like a joyous courtship, and the second laying back into a lazy but epic jaunt
about the sanctities of a life spent together, and how others should be made
to remember and understand. In the middle of it all, it's clear that Joji is
The Anomoanon at their peak, and a fine example of a band that's just hitting
a stride that could their whole lives. --Rob Devlin
WAVELENGTH: Jason Molina, you are not good at rocking out country style. Or,
not yet anyway. You are best fit for melancholy. We do not like to pigeonhole,
I know, but in some cases, like how you’re so powerfully awesome at sad and
hot and dank and dark, you gotta stick, or work harder. Or take a tip from these
dudes. Anomoanon, as you probably know, features Will Oldham’s Ned Oldham, who,
yeah, sounds like him and does a similar thing. But while Will is off recording
boring instrumental sea captain junk, we’ve got other Oldhams to fill the gap.
And plus, Ned’s got cool right away on the opening track, with a wicked Vikings
and warriors MIDI-style-metal-but-played-on-a-guitar thing. You know, kind of
like that Nintendo song band, The Advantage, but minus tiring one-trick pony
and plus lonely swelling country sweetness (that can sometimes classic rock
as hard as your dad). - SDT File next to: How amazing it is to like Neil Young
if you do it right. FFWD: It's hard to live in the shadow of a genius older
brother (ask Andy Yorke, whose albums with the Unbelievable Truth came with
a strict, "No comment," from elder sibling Thom). But here’s the only example
of near equality I can think of, and it's been a long time coming. As younger
brother to Will, Ned Oldham has often appeared on his elder's albums, while
toiling away off in the corner with his own little band. The surprise comes
once you actually hear what he's been up to. The Anomoanon (after a shaky start)
come up with sun-burned ’70s throwback country rock every bit as grand as Will's
borrowed pages from the archives of the Smithsonian. Sharing a similar familial
voice (albeit one that can hit the notes somewhat better than big bro Will),
Ned is a songwriter blessed with a drawn-out genius similar to Songs: Ohia's
Jason Molina (a compliment which also equates him to Neil Young, to whom both
artists owe a debt the size of Texas). Coming along within weeks of Will's new
Bonnie (Prince) Billy album Superwolf, Joji runs the risk of disappearing behind
that record's frost-bitten odes. Make sure to invite the whole family this time
around. —Mark Hamilton
BALTIMORE MAGAZINE: Contributor Ned Oldham also fronts the Anomoanon, a critically
acclaimed outfit known for its meandering and melodic take on folk rock. The
band’s new disc, Joji, sounds as if Syd Barrett resurfaced at Neil Young’s ranch.
The aching vulnerability in Oldham’s voice anchors these sublimely shambling
songs. John Lewis
JANE: The ace up Anomoanon’s sleeve… is that it’s the vision of Ned Oldham,
who, like his brothers Will and Paul, is genetically predisposed to make beautiful
music. The Anomoanon makes sleepy, woodsy records that startle you at the right
moments… --Jeff Johnson
WCUR 91.7: Compared to..... pink floyd-ish..but more of a blues pulsing guitar
sound...harmonica mixed with differentiating vocals...sometimes haunting and
angry...while others are soothing and melodic...almost has a brit-pop to some
of the sounds all tracks clean all tracks good esp #2, 5 -- Katie Hazzard
TINYMIXTAPES: … Ned is slightly more consistent than his brother when it comes
to output and performance... the music sounds so effortless, its easy to stop
thinking about what band came before, and to start realizing how good what's
playing right now is. Suffice it to say that regardless of which Oldham brother
you've enjoyed in the past, there's no reason to pass this one up. --Keith Kawaii
COKEMACHINEGLOW: “Should one tear a page?” You, the skittery prepubescent fiddling
with your hymnal. “Should one crack a fart?” You, the moist baker in the front
pew with stains the greenish color of rust on his silk shirt, around his chin.
“Should one seethe with rage?” You, the Sunday school teacher scratching mindlessly
at a white patch of skin on your knuckle. “While one falls apart?” You, the
choir member, dolled up cotton swab, forgetting your place in the psalter and
losing your breath. Ned Oldham before the congregation, a preacher from a family
of well-known preachers, less imposing than his touring, famous brother: “I
don’t know why these things make me down and brown,” he sounds, swathed in the
twilight of Kentucky dusk even though it’s ten in the morning. His voice, lurching
higher and grainier with each word, is joined by a ramshackle choir, cued by
the flush in his cheeks. Sudden, struggling silence; Oldham raises a gnarled
fist and the sins of each church-goer come pouring out of their mouths in biblical
waves of locusts. The effect is effortless, like a brief harmonica slowing,
tripping seamlessly into a shrill organ line. At once, the prepubescent and
the baker, the teacher and the wife stand up, caricatures of horror pushing
for the exit, trampling the carpet of locusts. Oldham is placid, framed by a
viscous black crawling up the stained glass of the tiny chapel, and he’s humming
one killer Neil Young riff. Out in the sunlight, bombarded by a day perfect
for a brunch picnic, the congregation settles down and writes off the events
of the morning as eschatological sideshow. Didn’t they see all this done by
Jerry Falwell on PAX? They forget those sins that just drove them to madness
and they wait for Oldham to come outside so they can pat him on the back. It’s
as tradition calls for. This is “Down and Brown,” the opening track off of the
Anomoanon’s latest LP, JOJI. It’s an incredible lead-off, structured with the
simplicity of a muddy, gothic hymn. A jilted, jealous guitar spins against light
cymbals and Oldham’s fire-and-brimstone warble. Throaty voices fall in and out.
A greasy electric guitar solo would be danceable if it didn’t shoulder such
thick sadness, if it didn’t unravel and funnel out beyond Oldham’s and Aram
Stith’s precise pace… --Dom Sinacola
ALLMUSIC: Anomoanon's Joji continues on the country-folk-rock path that the
band, and all the Oldhams for that matter, have been forging since the beginning.
One could always hear the ghosts of classic country-rock in Anomoanon's music
-- the Grateful Dead and the Band shine through -- but on Joji it seems that
the influence of classic rock like Neil Young comes through, yet through the
lens of the Meat Puppets, especially on tracks like "Leap Alone," "Green Sea,"
and the wonderful closer, "Bird Child." And this works in Anomoanon's favor
-- driving music with an edge that you can get lost in. Some of the songs can
be a bit jammy, but tracks like "Mr. Train" and "After Than Before" show an
impressive country drive that solidifies and balances the wandering of the longer
tracks on Joji… David Serra
The Derby Ram (Box
Tree/
Houston
Party 2004)
MOJO: "...unpretentious
and deeply satisfying"---Peter Relic
(read
more)
MAGNET: “Stoned but erudite, the psychedlic car-chase anthems score
the afternoon you rob the blood and sperm banks, reeking of Crosby, Stills,
Neitszche and Jung.”—William Bowers
‘SUP: “…And so it is the songs on Derby Ram that truly give
the record depth. Whether on the near-giddy opener,“Little Birdy”
or the monstrous title cut, the tunes manage to really swing, while Ned’s
customarily introspective-cum-uplifting lyrics lend the whole affair an indispensable
gravity. A double-tracked vocal melody calls to a distant guitar’s
response on “A Man of Words,” while the drums advance and halt,
eventually engaging in a full bore attack behind a multitude of men howling
about a lion at your door. The overall effect of this little trick is
a tastefull build-up that you didn’t really expect, only hoped for….”—Ashford
Tucker
PITCHFORK: “…the story of the forest as told by ripping Fenders.
Miraculously, The Anomoanon have seized the Dead's scrappy, rollicking prowess,
but eschewed their tye-dyed, hide-your-joint-in-your-beard meandering: The
Anomoanon shoot to kill…Each of The Derby Ram's 12 tracks coalesce effortlessly,
perfectly anchored by the eerie (and-- at over seven minutes-- epic) title
track. "Bourbon Whiskey/The Derby Ram" is a brooding, hellish smear
of freaked-out psychedelia, kicked off by Oldham's interpretation of "Rye
Whiskey", a traditional folk cut that, incidentally, also appears on
Alan Lomax's American Ballads and Folk Songs. With Ned up front, The Anomoanon
spew ancient prophecies, as told by squeaky banjoes and throbbing drums. The
resulting song is both horrifying and enthralling, a sparse retelling of long-buried
secrets…It's awfully easy to hop out of your chair and applaud music
that successfully wiggles out of contemporary restraints, cracking head-on
into the future and fashioning a fresh sonic path. But it's equally difficult
to afford the exact same courtesy to bands and records that eschew the present
by picking loosely through the past. The Anomoanon make ancient, outmoded
sounds, all sprawling, plucky guitar and throaty vocals, traditional lyrics
and wild, Vietnam-era noodling, but rather than sounding familiar or benign,
they're brutally anachronistic, proving that, just as a laptop doesn't guarantee
innovation, electric guitars can still knock everybody down.”—Amanda
Petrusich
AQUARIUS: “On their sixth album, Anomoanon rises with the sun, waking
you up not with a rooster's call, but with the perky, flute-y sounds of the
tune "Little Birdy". Then, they lead you out the garden gate and
beyond. This folky acoustic album is the aural equivalent of a lengthy roaming
stroll that takes you through overgrown bushes, across rolling fields and
into dried-up creekbeds. It meanders with no specific destination in mind
and pausing every so often to gaze at the clouds or to stumble across some
lyric fragments to "Scarborough Fair". Revisiting their feathered
friends later in the album, the fifth song "Mary Had A Pretty Bird/Bluebirdy
Jam" gently drifts away from traditional song structure and melody into
rootsy jam territory—a return to their past Grateful Deadish tendencies.
Broodingly strummed and picked guitars form much of the instrumental foundation
of each song with an occasional faint undercurrent of noodly keyboards. A
worthy follow-up to their excellent 2002 full length Asleep Many Years In
The Wood.”
THE WANDERER: “Ned Oldham's bruised country arrangements of traditional
poems turn singalong ditties them into enigmatic, existentialist riddles.
Most country music, whether alternative or the regular sort, seeks a
closure, whether on an episode of lost love, or of personal or social history.
By encapsulating the episode, it seeks the last word on it—country is
a music of authority, telling history by spinning a yarn (all done with the
handy benefit of hindsight). The Anomoanon presents an altogether different
perspective—that of a learned but wayward mind, weaving half-truths
and folk wisdom which can never be pinned down to a single message. Derby
Ram is a new album from Ned Oldham- who essentially is The Anomoanon—but
like many of his releases it uses poems for its lyrics, reading them across
the grain for alternative meanings, and simultaneously keeping the performer
at one remove…The Derby Ram achieves a Ghost-like presence, matching
that Japanese band in the power but also the transience of its visions. The
album ends suddenly, and the mysterious memory of the album is that of the
bewildered wanderer, puzzling over existence with no-one to help. Derby
Ram is like a sharp, secret riddle.” –Derek Walmsley
STYLUS: “Quoting from the grand fair-day tradition of the Grateful Dead,
the Allman Brothers, and Neil Young, Anomoanon alternate folky flywaways with
dense, menacing arrangements that spook like the night owl, crashing away
in a leave-strewn hush and a stillborn pause…They never wander too far
from the light though, eschewing the lysergic-soaked country jams so many
of their predecessors explored. The songs are tight and pointed, and their
soft daybreak melodies pour into these grooves like country gravy. They know
when to close down, and when to muscle forward for an extra inch’s struggle,
and that gift leaves them miles ahead of many of their contemporaries (My
Morning Jacket, for example).”—Derek Miller
LIVE:
RADAR Baltimore, MD: “Onstage, Ned Oldham clutches a vintage Fender
Mustang guitar, an engaging, emotive performer. His band, The Anomoanon,
a lurching Crazy Horse-like outfit, plays with homespun recklessness. Pooling
high vocals and harmonies, spare enigmatic lyrics, snakey licks and rock chord
progressions, they remind many of quality 60s neo-traditionalist mavericks…
Ned embraces archaic Americana, but with a revisionist, literate voice. He
surrounds this voice with the sound of nostalgia, walking a thin line that
is potentially predictable. Fortunately, Oldham and band crack some
Who-like chords over the Appalachian cadence and whistle far more than Dixie…”—Jack
Livingston
Asleep Many Years in the Wood (
Temporary
Residence Limited 2003)
BALTIMORE: “…the same ragged but right ethos that characterizes
the best work of the Band and the Grateful Dead… a shambling, meandering
masterwork that twangs, creaks, rocks, and ultimately, soars… melodic
and memorable tunes that feel like they could have been written decades ago…
brings Graham Parsons to mind… like Exile-era Stones… the group
manages to wring new life from old sounds… more timeless than retro.”—John
Lewis
PITCHFORK: “Ominously mellow, the Anomoanon's music is a lilting tide
in which you don't mind drowning…Asleep Many Years In The Wood continues
to define Ned's own dominion…he's the autopiloting captain of some weird
tractor-boat, a hoverharvester that would replace the locals' fear of twisters
(if Kentucky had everglades)…The album is packed with uncanny lines…The
whole project is ruled by "Kick Back", a Fogertized cowbell stomp
with a dash of Allmania, tempered by its Dylan-worshiping Jennyanykind neu-boogie…
The title track is a full-on cattle-driver. Even the artwork (a liquor bottle
boasting the album name; a picture of a rotting pig--"old ham,"
get it?) is a treat. Thank you, Ned, Jack, Willy, Aram, and Jason; you blokes
know when to pepper up an otherwise unsurprising (and creatively extinct)
genre with some viola and tubular bells, and your lyrics can make the mockery
I receive for flying your muddy flag in this era of laptopclashtronelectrica
worthwhile.”—William Bowers
THE BIG TAKEOVER: “…good, plain, simple, backwoods rock full of
lonesome, vulnerable vocals, slide guitar, downbeat outlooks and Ned’s
words that are almost Shakespearean in their poetry. The lead track, “Sixteen
Ways,” leads off with a very infectious riff that opens Ned’s
world up and invites the listener in…this is a band that relies more
on solid technique rather than flash and volume. More!”
PUNK PLANET and NEUMU: “…This December release is the unforeseen
magic album I waited for all year… full of desire… Poppy yet substantial,
the melodies are fetching, with interesting, unexpected chord progressions,
builds and breakdowns. The lyrics are clever and sincere… The
songwriting and playing are mellifluous yet tight.”—Jillian Steinberger
ALLMUSIC GUIDE: “…the Anomoanon finally perfected their approach…
both mellow and energetic, like the best studio work of the Dead…
majestic… rocking… plaintive… Rarely does ‘70s-style
country-rock sound this vibrant and alive.”
JUNKMEDIA: “…with this record, it is time to acknowledge Ned is
a more solid singer and often a more consistent songwriter than his brother
Will, a.k.a. Bonnie Prince Billy… Ned is a musical force you can set
your watch to…Asleep Many Years in the Wood is the strongest example
of this to date…Nothing illustrates this better than the guitar-driven,
back-porch rave-ups on Asleep, including the cowbell-studded rocker "Kick
Back" and the fist-pumping title track, which is one of a few tunes on
the record that boasts sweaty, Thin Lizzy-style lead guitar…it is as
enjoyable as the Palace Brothers' high watermark Viva Last Blues. Smoothly
blending Southern rock, country and folk, Asleep Many Years in the Wood is
a perfect album for babysitting a cooler of cold beer on the porch this summer…”—Jillian
Steinberger
DREAM: “…bucolic visions… hoedown with great organic interplay
between the participants… mellow almost country folky… The best
comparison would likely be Neil Young, but Neil hasn’t been this consistent
or clear for years.”
CITY PAPER Washington, DC: “…a rockin’ country record…
a barroom full of drunken swagger, neck-cracking chord changes, and the occasional
dollop of top-shelf slide guitar… the group taps effortlessly into the
soulful twang that made The Band such an American original (even if it was
led by a Canadian)… the band mainlines high grade Meat Puppets, serving
up an amphetamine rush of melody chased hard with an ace Allman Brothers-style
lead… sloppy, riff-happy… gracefully shambling… one hell
of a good time.”
The Anomoanon (
Palace
Records 2001)
CMJ: “…heavily punctuated folk-rock that crosses On the Beach-era
Neil Young with pastoral musings that bring to mind a less-sardonic Silver
Jews…warm electric piano and breezy acoustic guitar that exposes a ‘70s
AM radio sensibility…boogie-inflected, harmonized verses and insistent
guitar-led instrumental jams…some sort of drunken campfire sing-along
in a dark, menacing forest.”
MAGNET: “…Oldham steers his songs like a wave-rocked pirate ship,
see-sawing from… punch drunk folk… to loosey-goosey rock…
the sort of light in the air anthem Skynard might have composed on a tiny
budget after several hundred hits of ganja.”
FLAGPOLE Athens: “…has more in common with late-‘60s countrified
rock a la Moby Grape and Crazy Horse than it does Smog, Nick Cave, or any
other of the foreboding balladeer bunch… Story-like lyrics telling of
desperation and woe set against a melodic background… Proof’s
in the pudding… blatantly enjoyable stuff… played by guys who
obviously know a thing or two about their classic rock, as should we all…
Praise Neil and pass the sauce.”
PITCHFORK: “…achieves an instantly likeable laid-back groove,
like a porchfront family jam session with flawless, crisp production…
hauntingly beautiful melody… a damned solid folk-rock record.”—Matt
LeMay
ALTERNATIVE PRESS: “…No irony. No literary caveats. No
pretentious prattle… the quintet sublimely lope[s] along, spinning out
shuffling rhythms, and wearing heavily drugged Jonathan Richman aesthetics.
If Beck had ever really, honestly played his folk-singer shtick straight,
Oldham’s… mutations would still ring clearer.”
TIME OUT New York: “…somewhere between Young’s Harvest and
the Meat Puppets’ Up on the Sun, with threads of discontent buried deep
in the laid-back grooves…has a more mature and even-keeled sound than
Will Oldham’s recordings, which makes it… more approachable.”—Lydia
Vanderloo
THE MUSIC BOX: “…the group unearths a primal, garage band, acid-test
groove that slowly churns with meditative fury… finds beauty and stays
with it to transcend itself.”