In the past, “divorce” as an album concept triggered four words: Blood On The Tracks. Unknowable then as he remains, the crescendo of Bob Dylan’s classic period foremostly conveyed the emotional whiplash of a dying marriage. Since, the topic has run through an interband collapse in Fleetwood Mac to Tammy Wynette with her little J-O-E to the very recent and public trials for Kelly Clarkson and Jason Isbell.
The subject caters to singer/songwriters; a cynic might think they might even look forward to its masochism and exhibitionism. For Dream 3, GOON’s Kenny Becker shuns the troubadour trope and opts for disconnected imagery and associations/collages whose meanings are not immediately clear. He casts his androgynous voice into as much isolation and distance as echo and reverb will allow. His band try to comfort him with a mixture of late-90s Pacific Northwest alt-rock, Elephant 6, and shoegaze to little avail. Like with Dylan, Becker’s emotional untethering is clear.
From the reversing effect on opener “Begin Here” to the clouds gathering at the onset of “Fine”, Dream 3 constantly crumbles at the edges. The reminders are necessary because Becker’s voice constantly threatens to float away: it’s gentle like Beat Happening’s Calvin Johnson or Built To Spill’s Doug Martsch. The latter band looms large in Dream 3’s background though – much in the way early punk drew inspiration from early rock minus the R&B – Goon keep surprisingly little of BTS’s Neil Young fixation. The resulting tweeness doesn’t go unchecked, at least as far as the crunching similarity to Korn’s “Blind” in “Patsy’s Twin” would argue. Yet the track (which was released as a single) largely stands alone.
The 20 minutes between “Patsy’s Twin” and the next guitar salvo in “Sunsweeping” showcase arpeggiated chords and continuous key changes. Guitars double Becker’s vocal melodies (which are already low in the mix) throughout the album, making the lyrics difficult to distinguish in what must be an allusion to the lack of comprehension he feels about his present state. “Enter the fog”, he sings with Elliott Smith’s cadence on “Closer To”; “Then the warning comes / Something wrong / Glistening in her jaw”. Later, on “Apple Patch”, he’s “shaking with a smile”.
Natural imagery flows from Becker’s pen. If he isn’t “dead on the vine”, he’s “bubbling dirt from [his] mouth”. The echoes of ashes-to-ashes might stem from his induced depression, yet much of Dream 3 speaks to shock and aftershocks. Instinctively, people will reach for something sturdy when their knees buckle – needing to know what’s real. Song titles range from “This Morning Six Rabbits Were Born” to “For Cutting The Grass” and “Apple Patch”, trusting in senses like touch and smell over emotions and intuition. The aforementioned “Patsy’s Twin” is a collision between The Sopranos (specifically a betrayal) and watching cicadas in the yard.
Simple narrative songwriting may well have worked but would also have overlooked the weird associations we make during crises. In the sense of feeling hit by a train, maybe GOON are referencing Blood On The Tracks. But interpreting dreams is so much more fun.
