REVIEW: Devendra Banhart "Cripple Crow"

Rating: 4.5

I don't think there's much disputing Devendra Banhart's status as the reigning king of freak-folk.  However the definition of the genre itself is easily up for discussion.  Afterall, one man's freak is another man's (insert adjective here).  Banhart is decidedly a freak of the smelly self-taught hippie throwback variety, and if this is the man who would be king then let "Cripple Crow" stand as his Declaration of New Bohemianess.

However hippies as a social group aren't terribly adept at making formal declarations and "Crow" proves no exception.  What seems at times to have been intended as a yellow smoke and green tea festivus remains too low-key and singer-centric to feel truly inclusive.  Much of Banhart's previous work sounds as if it might have been recorded alone in a spaceous room somewhere inside his own head.  Here he invites the whole co-op to join in with sitars, bongos, a dusty detuned piano and lots of casual background noise, though they are kept largely in supporting roles to DB's off-kilter vibrato song poetry.  A few spanish launguage numbers add a genuine sense of the exotic, but the air of maturity established by sensually rolling "R's" is trumped by an accidental goofiness and/or purposeful infantility in which he quietly revels throughout the record.

Banhart might benefit from a more expansive and collaborative process, maybe linking up with an equally freakish band (Animal Collective) or another artist who might complement and balance (Liz Janes).  As a solo folk album this isn't bad, but on a socio-musical level "Cripple Crow" plays more like Charles Manson & The Manson Family Singers than Bob Dylan & The Band or Sargent Pepper.