Creep On Creepin’ On by Timber Timbre   
LABEL: Arts & Crafts

Creepy: (adj.) causing an unpleasant feeling of fear or unease.

Do you know that feeling where you think something or someone is about to sneak up on you? It gets to the point where your paranoia coerces you into believing some irksome thing is going to crawl into your skin and burrow itself inside of you.

Though that sounds like an awful experience, Canadian folk artist Timber Timbre will beg to differ. Timber Timbre is a trio led by multi-instrumentalist, Taylor Kirk. The band follows their critically acclaimed third album, Timber Timbre, with this year’s oft-sinister, yet minimally sanguine release, Creep On Creepin’ On.

“Timber Timbre create an album that’s malevolent while not being frightening. It dances with the devil and the angels at the same time.”

What’s so special about this LP is that Timber Timbre is able to use dissonance, somber vocals, and dejected lyricism to create a barren landscape that encompasses an emotional range that’s inconceivably vast. The album art effectively hints at this. If there were an award for artwork-that-goes-perfectly-with-the-sound-of-the-album 2011, Creep On Creepin’ On would win; the audio-visual components reinforce each other, providing a juxtaposition where dark, ominous scenery surrounds contrasts with an alluring source of light.

The album opens with “Bad Ritual”. The track features a simple hip hop like piano melody, but 14 seconds in, an ominous, reverberating drone comes from beneath the surface, creeping it’s way toward you. But just like in the prototypical horror movie does, as the character turns around to look at where the sound is emanating, it’s gone. “Bad Ritual” draws you into Creep On Creepin’ On’s web of fright and beauty, as Kirk bemoans, “It’s a bad bad ritual/ But it calms me down.”

But the darkness in the emotional horror movie, analogously played in this LP, isn’t over. “Obelisk”, introduces the large, unsettling creature. It encompasses fear and a reflection of self-destruction, as noted by Kirk on the next track (“Creep On Creepin’ On), “I’ll bury my head in my hands/ I’ll bury my heart in the sand.” Kirk’s voice resonates deep in the psyche. His deep, hallow voice accentuates the feeling of being alone, which is ideal for delivering the sinister feeling of this album. His cavernous bellow traps listeners in for the rest of this baleful narrative.

Despite the unsettling feeling this album provides, a glimmer of hope is always visible. In the album highlight “Black Water”, a desperate character groans, “All I need is some sunshine,” behind a contradictory jovial tune. Throughout the album, the instrumentation trickles down the border of dejection and hopefulness, providing two opposing forces fighting for one thing: your attention. Whereas “Black Water” suggested a sense of hopeless, “Swamp Magic” displays a ray of sunshine at the end of the tunnel. Though “Swamp Magic” begins in an inauspicious manner, it ends with one of the lightest moments on the album. Guitar arpeggios and a string selection sweep across the landscape, dusting away the darkness for a brief, fleeting sense of relief. This contradiction of sound continues throughout the album on tracks like “Woman” and “Lonesome Hunter”, where battles between good and evil steal your awareness.

The theme of self-destruction rears its head once again near the end of the album. This time, however, Kirk realizes that it’s not something else creeping towards him, but rather himself on the track “Do I Have Power”. “Do I have power over it?” he ponders. The latter part of the song features roaring trombones, screeching strings, and a trumpet that sounds like it’s screaming for help.

The album ends with “Souvenirs”, which begins as though it’s the calm after the storm. The smoke has yet to clear, and its listeners can’t tell who came out on top: good or evil. As the track progresses, it becomes more tragic, more somber. The smoke begins to clear, and your heart begins to race, thumping and thumping with each draw of the violin bow. The light is dim—at best—near the end of this album, but did you expect anything else?

Creep On Creepin’ On is a wondrous feat. It’s a story with an ending that’s hard to swallow, but captures your attention more and more with each note played. Timber Timbre create an album that’s malevolent without being frightening. It dances with the devil and the angels at the same time. It’s a polarizing force that’s unabated in its effort to control all in sight.


REVIEWED BY ADRIAN ROJAS
ADRIAN’S FAVORITE TRACKS: “Bad Ritual” • “Black Water” • “Swamp Magic”
Read more from Adrian on his blog, On the Importance of Being Rash

  Timber Timbre - Black Water by Arts & Crafts

















+ Read Groovemine’s review of TT’s previous self-titled album