Darien Brahms
Number 4
Cornmeal Records
Click to hear: “Cream Machine”
Darien Brahms’ Number 4 is a triumph. Arriving five years after her third release, the excellent Green Valentine, this album reminds those who remember why she was once considered the queen of Portland’s music scene, and firmly reestablishes her monarchy.
As songwriter, performer, engineer and producer, Brahms is in complete control of her material here. She’s painstakingly crafted each composition, assembling just the right mix of instruments to complement a core group that includes bassist Paul Chamberlain and drummer Ginger Cote.
Brahms has never sounded so comfortable and self-assured on record before: panting, growling, crooning, twanging, shouting — she does it all, nailing every phrase and syllable. There’s the cock-rockin’ opener, “Cream Machine;” the jazzy-druggy lullaby “Shut Up and Be Quiet;” the rootsy, rousing “For Crying Out Loud”… and that’s just the first three numbers.
By the fourth, “I Used to Be a Clown,” we’re into some Band Rock of Ages–style circus Americana, complete with horns and fake-live gig atmosphere. Then — what else? — a honky-tonk ballad (“We’re All Okay”), followed by another sassy rocker (“Appetite”) and a pure pop gem, “Sweet Little Darling.”
The sequence and pacing of Number 4 truly makes this an album, not just a collection of 14 songs. Halfway through, Brahms lightens things up with a goofy little hip hop-cum-Ween thing (“Kitty’s Trapped in the Well”). The brief instrumental “Slide Song 1993” sets a dark, cloudy tone for the thunderous rock-riffs kicking off the next track, “Fists Full of Rain.” The discordant, late-Tom Waitsian “Too Late for Whitey” would have sounded out of place among the other songs, so Brahms tacks it on the end as a “special bonus track,” where it belongs.
Of the handful of visiting musicians here, special mention must go to Dave Noyes. Noyes’ trombone beautifully accents the mood of “Shut Up and Be Quiet,” and the cello and melodica he adds to “Sweet Little Darling” provide the perfect frosting.
But again, it’s Brahms at the helm, deciding what to add and, equally important, what to leave out. She’s been working on these songs for at least the past two years, recording in a homemade studio space in the attic of her Munjoy Hill abode. This setting gave her the time to do things right, and, impressively, it hasn’t lessened the quality of the recording one bit — the whole album sounds great, warm and clear and balanced.
Will this be the release that gives Brahms her big break? Who knows? It’s certainly her best shot yet, though as with past efforts, Number 4’s genre-hopping eclecticism seems destined to confuse the music industry powers-that-be.
So Brahms remains a queen in exile, toiling away at menial painting and cleaning jobs by day. When some jackass carves a tag into the bathroom wall of a downtown bar, Portland’s most talented performer gets the call to sand it out and apply a fresh coat. It’s a travesty.
Brahms financed her two previous albums with game show proceeds (2000’s Little Bundle of Sugar) and cash from a Jim Beam contest (Green Valentine). If there’s any justice in the world, the proceeds from Number 4 will at least support her next record. Let’s hope that happens before another half-decade passes.
— Chris Busby
Darien Brahms plays a CD release show, with openers The Hot Tarts, on Sat., Sept. 6, at Space Gallery, 538 Congress St., Portland, at 9 p.m. Tix: $8 (18+). On Fri., Sept. 19, Brahms plays the North Star Music Café, 225 Congress St., Portland, at 8 p.m. Doug Cowan opens. Free (all ages). For more info, visit darienbrahms.com.
