On his full-length debut, Heavy Ghost, DM Stith sings like Antony Hegarty with less warbling, combines pianos and guitars with strange electronic flourishes in a way that is, at times, reminiscent of Radiohead, creates dense atmospheres that are spookier than Grizzly Bear’s, and crafts bizarre, nearly orchestral arrangements like Sufjan Stevens– and yet, he has made one of the most unique records I’ve heard in a long time. This is appropriate as nearly everything about this record is a contradiction. DM Stith (aka David Stith) was discovered by Sufjan Stevens and signed to Stevens’ own Asthmatic Kitty Records and it appears Stith has learned a lot from Stevens about arrangements, but whereas Stevens’ compositions often seem light, friendly, and sort of repetitive, DM Stith prefers to explore darker areas musically and lyrically. Heavy Ghost appears to be a deeply personal and honest record and yet, Stith sings in one of the first lines of the record,”I’m leaving out all the parts I don’t like.” A few songs later, he comes around and adds, “I’m leaving out all the parts I don’t believe in.” On top of this, even the album’s title is contradictory.
Yet, Heavy Ghost is appropriately titled and true to its name, it is a spooky, haunting recording with a heavy darkness running through its twelve songs. Heavy Ghost is brimming with a dark spirituality as it tosses and turns through personal ghosts and demons, shameful hiding from the divine, frightening scenes of fiery destruction, and even more frightening scenes of divine grace. As demonstrated in the writing of Flannery O’Connor, the Christian faith can be a dark, frightening, and glorious experience– David Stith has captured these frightening aspects to tape as well as anyone else ever has. At times, Heavy Ghost provides moments of eerie quiet in which piano benches creak, a throat is cleared, a faraway clock ticks, and ghostly choirs shuffle around the attic, and then there are moments of stormy, apocalyptic chaos. Stith has mastered both and utilizes them on this record to craft music that is startling, memorable, and dramatic.
However, many people could listen to this album and hear none of what I’ve just described, because above all Heavy Ghost is cloaked in murky mystery. Stith sings in riddles and images, painting an emotional landscape rather than narrating a traditional story. We are led through images of blind animals in water, birds on fire, slick licorice roads, and stars gathering around a “thanksgiving moon.” Pianos, guitars, strings, and drums make up the building blocks of these songs, yet, Stith’s steady hand arranges them with electronic whispers and haunted choirs and creates bizarre set of songs that sounds like little we’ve heard before.
The record opens with a creaky, old piano giving us little groans of age with every pounding chord. As the first of many ghoulish choirs moan in the background, Stith sings, “I’ve gone in,” and without realizing it, we have embarked with him on a dark spiritual pilgrimage which will carry us through the rest of the album. “Pity Dance” creates a tight, weird world which the rest of the record explores. It slowly grows as each instrument to appear on the album joins in the chaos and a trajectory is set with lines like “shock horror shock horror shock horror hallelujah.” Many of the records darkest songs appear near its beginning. “Creekmouth” thumps along with its primitive, swampy rhythms and a murky sludge of instruments. It explores and points to a darkness within as Stith beckons in an eerie falsetto, “Open your creekmouth, your cankered waters, rising out, you’re rising out.” These songs dogleg into unexpected and uncharted territories. Stith pulls you along on a journey which is both unsettling and irresistible.
The drama builds as the record progresses. “Morning Glory Cloud” begins modestly with a simple acoustic guitar kept in line by hand claps but a host of voices and instruments soon follow as they begin cycling in and out of the background. Stith sings “I’ve been hiding…You won’t catch me, I know this street/And I’ve got my own policies, I’ve got my own policies/But the divining ray is threatening to illuminate everything/Everything I have been hiding.” One would be hard pressed to find a more personal description of the fear of God in pop music. An apocalyptic piano arrives just in time to finish this song in a fit of holy terror.
But a light pierces through the darkness by the end of the record on “Braid of Voices,” which may be the best song here. Gentle piano chords move along while other pianos ripple in the background like harps. “In my dreams I watch TV/I’m blue inside, I’m the blue light” he sings in a wounded voice. The song builds to a glorious crescendo and it answers a question posed in an earlier song: “Did you call, did you call my name?” The answer, we discover, is yes: “A braid of voices: David, David.” The record comes to a close on a “holy mountain” and like many dark journeys, we learn that the one on Heavy Ghost is an ascent– and it’s one you’ll want to make again and again.
—————
“Pity Dance”
Stream the entire album here.
—————
DM Stith
Heavy Ghost
Asthmatic Kitty, 2009
Rating: 4.5/5.0
