Painted Saints

painted saints hail from Denver/Minneapolis and do the ever so popular spaghetti western-heroin klezmer-chamber country-sad bastard thing. They write tin can and twine romances in a color of rust with backdrops of long wind swept open roads framed by tangled barbed wire and naked telephone poles. Their songs are of ashtray broken hearts and lansdscapes of beauty and sorrow borrowing harmonies from old eastern europe, the desert southwest and the sentiments of working class rust belt americana. they are also really into pompous descriptions. ------------------------------------------------------------ -------------------------------------------- PRESS:In your dream your car and breaks down in the middle of the American West. You're at a non-place where you can see the desert, the forest and the plains stretching off into the distance. The shadows of mountains rise behind the fog that shrouds everything. I doesn't take you long to realize that you're lost in time as much as in place. "The Bricks Might Breathe Again" by Painted Saints could be the soundtrack to this dream.Painted Saints are lead by Paul Fonfara, late of Denver currently of Minnesota. To get from one to the other he had to make his way across much of the American plains and, apparently, make his way through every genre of Americana. He's a multi-instrumentalist wielding guitar, clarinet and bandoneon, he also takes on the singing/song writing duties (he's a damned good whistler,too). With other folks bringing the cello, saw, bass, violin, toy piano and percussion Painted Saints are more an ensemble than just a band. But there's a humbleness to the "chamber country" found here. These songs are always accessible, never pointlessly virtuosic.Perhaps it's the clarinet... or the cello. But this album doesn't stay land locked in the middle of America. There's a palpable European undercurrent washing through the songs. The clarinet brings in bits of klezmer, the guitar sounds positively flamenco at times and "For the Brokers of Bottlecaps" is a waltz for a broken Baltic capitol. These influences aren't jarring they just help make the haunted rural landscape that much more otherworldly.We're not quite in another world but the elegiac manner of the vocals is straight from the borderland between here and the Other Side. This matches the mannered, judicious percussion that's so laconic you're bound to think less of high spirited country music and more about somber "indie" rock like Morphine or Low. The rhythm section knows that you can't go too fast if you want to hypnotize the audience.You can hear the influence of contemporary music throughout "The Bricks...". This isn't just another retro-folk album the song writing is so tight, so succinct that it feels completely modern. Even at their most protracted they evoke God Speed You! Black Emperor more than any meandering folky, just check out "Paladin Whine". It's nice that musicians can sound so world wise and still be so wonderfully youthful.All of these elements work together to create an amazing amalgam. This troupe feels like a French cafe ensemble that got lost time and was forced to work with sheet music from the last 100 years. But Painted Saints work it all into a cohesive dreamscape, the soundtrack to your dream if it was directed by Sergio Leone.SEPIACHORD ------------------------------------------------------------ ---------------------------------------------Lead by multi-instrumentalist Paul Fonfara, a virtuoso clarinet player with a handle on just about any music-making device you can throw at him, Painted Saints are perhaps the most accomplished local band you've never heard of. A transplant from an incestuous Denver music scene, Fonfara possesses a technical prowess that has been on display for years; he's a former member of Devotchka and touring sideman to Jim White, but it's his songwriting and orchestral creativity that get the limelight with Painted Saints. Live, Fonfara layers guitar, clarinet, strings, an archaic Colombian squeezebox, and whistles that would make Andrew Bird blush, resulting in a self-described "spaghetti western-heroin-klezmer-chamber country-sad-bastard thing." Also a talented painter, Fonfara pens lyrics that detail the kind of dark and vivid imagery one could imagine Hieronymus Bosch creating, were he raised in modern-day rural America.Christopher Mathew Jensen City Pages ------------------------------------------------------------ --------------------------------------------- the appreciation for the odd or slightly out of whack sound served fonfara well. that sense of mood alng with fonfara's eye for the unusual and his ability to seamlessly integrate different instruments and traditions into single songs keeps The Bricks Might Breathe Again from being easily pigeonholed. The sleepy, nodding "Paladin Whine" stands in marked contrast to the chain-gang country stomp of the title track and somewhere in the middle rests the Victorian March of "For the Brokers of Bottlecaps". Tying it all together are instrumental interludes that give the record the cohesive feel of a soundtrack. It's an intimate record of smal pleasures that grows with each listen. -Steven McPherson Reveille Magazine ------------------------------------------------------------ --------------------------------------------- Company Town takes country-blues-folks at its finest and adds awe-inspiring cello, bar banter wisdom and a few wild cards for good measure, hearkening back to a mythical time when men were men, moonshine flowed freely and a musician couldn't get by if he didn't play a mean fiddle and whistle for a fistful of dollars in his sleep...Company Town is not merely an excellent and evocative album, but something rarer-- one of thos hari on the back of your neck records that comes out of nowhere and inhabits your CD deck for weeks. Nick Norton Splendid