Myth has it that Deer Tick was conceived in the cold and drafty bedroom of singer songwriter (and Providence, R.I. resident) John Joseph McCauley III during the winter of 2004 after he made mournful, under-age love to a big'ole bottle of brandy with all the Hank Williams he could get his hands on. Or maybe vice versa. The details can be found on the band's website. The point is that the old country crooner supposedly provided a radical departure from the dissonance of modern angular rock McCauley was so familiar with, which motivated McCauley to make some tapes with his best friend who incidentally happened to be a drummer.
They called themselves The Other Face. Tapes led to shows. Shows led to touring, but somewhere along the way the drummer left and a camping mishap led McCauley to decide that he was in a then not-really-existent band, Deer Tick. However, being alone and slightly delusional didn't slow McCauley down — in fact, it seemed to make things move faster. Before finding the band's current lineup he managed to play alongside quite a few talented musicians, like the Dirty Projectors drummer Brian McOmber, Nat Baldwin and Spencer Kingman. Furthermore, he actually recorded the one full record the band currently has released, War Elephant. Eventually, he did manage to settle on a lineup and put together a follow-up album as the band he had been hoping for.
War Elephant makes it clear that despite their name, Deer Tick has relatively little to do with nature, hunting, beer-grizzled livers, old age, or the endless authenticity contest of country music. Instead, they have twang, languid melodies, and McCauley's boozy, mournful vocals. Nonetheless, the band remains consistently (to reluctantly use a vague categorization) alt/indie. It definitely takes more of its cues from acts like Bright Eyes, early Shins, and Wolf Parade, than from anything close to actual country or folk. This isn't to say you can't hear some Dylan and Williams, but in most tracks wherever the classics come in, Deer Tick keeps them tightly wound around very strong, very modern hooks. It's like we're getting a look back at the heartland, or maybe the "dirty South," only twice removed and insulated. However, this insulation is by no means a negative experience. It's as if Deer Tick gives us their take on what authenticity used to be but has no problem letting us know that it is a take, cutting past the cardboard posturing of so many other bands that seem to want an undiluted connection with the American cannon.
Knowingly sustaining seemingly untenable oppositions seems to actually be what drives this band. The youthful exuberance of McCauley's yelps and shouts remain the perfect counterpoint to his corroded near-atonality, which is somewhere between a death gurgle and nasal Bright Eyes in the mood to chase a melody. Songs like "Dirty Dishes" and "Long Time" have springy harmonious string arrangements and soft percussions that merge with the straw-hat lyrical languor of someone who has time to wait around in parking lots, dreaming and gazing at the sky. Almost conversely, "Ashamed" and "Art Isn't Real (City of Sin)," glaze over light, fast, cheery guitar picking with vocal thrusts like "I might have better days/ but I'm not so sure I will" delivered in something close to a groan. McCauley himself drips and moans lyrics about lost love and impossible promises that suggest a decaying man, well past his 20s, without a chance in the world, in absurdly youthful yelps and bursts. Finally, the trim structured trot of the first half of the album gives way to five-minute free-range musical brooding in songs like "Not So Dense" and "Christ Jesus."
The introduction of these longer songs, while it does provide flavor, reveals how the album does falter a little. McCauley's voice works best in short bursts. After five minutes or so, especially in "Sink or Swim," it seems to get lost behind the instrumentation, while the songs themselves feel bloated with an artificially gritty rock grandeur and solemnity that the band just can't sustain. Additionally, these longer arrangements exaggerate all the band's melodramatic tendencies, which in other songs come off as ironic. However, these weaknesses are nothing more serious than a sign of youth. If you're ever feeling a little absurdly self-deprecating, they actually make enjoyable, if not technically profound, accompaniments to the more interesting, jauntily delivered bits on the record.
Ultimately, by overlaying old-hand Americana on a very neoteric song construction and sentiment, Deer Tick manages to provide something stomping, strained and raw, which is tied to a whole range of musical signifiers but remains original. The only flaw Deer Tick evinces on their first album is an overly ambitious juvenility. Yet, this flaw seems more of a promise than anything else. As McCauley is already aging his music by the barrel, it seems like it can only get better with time — something Deer Tick still has a lot of.
So if War Elephant is any indication of potential, their second album, Born on Flag Day, which is slated for release this June on Partisan Records, is definitely something to look out for. For now, if you like Titus Andronicus, Bright Eyes, and don't mind a beer every now and then, give Deer Tick a chance. They'll be a sound you can get behind. If you happen to not really be affected by grain alcohol and have a fetish for being in key it might take you a while, but after a few listens even you'll want it playing on the farm, in the bar and around the dorm. I suppose it's only fitting that with a moniker suggestive of a carrier for Lyme disease, Deer Tick tends to be rather contagious.
