It might sound trite and oversimplified to label what Kurt Wagner and Lambchop have gone through so far as a ‘long and winding road’, but it feels apt. It was a long 40 years ago now that the embryo of Lambchop emerged as a trio called Posterchild that started in 1986 and soon had to change their name. And since then, the course has definitely been winding, with all membership changes (lineups have been shifting depending on the musical context of the moment), and Wagner’s personal ups and downs, from visual artist and carpenter to musician (and still carpenter); from recognition and success (in one form or other) to overcoming serious illness in prostate cancer.
Yet, it has been a rich and meaningful trek down that road, with Wagner and his merry group, bunch or a crowd creating some of the more inventive music that went anywhere and everywhere – from the left-field country rock of the opening album I Hope You’re Sitting Down (aka Jack’s Tulips) in 1994, the Chicago soul of the unforgettable Up With People, to the electronics of FLOTUS in 2016 and This (Is What I Wanted to Tell You) in 2019 and several noteworthy stops in between.
A lot of those stylistic changes have had quite a bit to do with the fact that Wagner is a sort of modern music encyclopedia with a serious and detailed knowledge of musical forms that have all been reflected in Lambchop albums and all his solo and collaborative outings. Add to all this the incredible quality and richness of Wagner’s lyrics that have been ever present from the get go on his albums and in his literary work and you have a truly unique body of work.
So this all brings us to Punching the Clown, Lambchop’s first offering in four years. It’s yet another move, yet another musical and lyrical exploration, and simply put, yet another masterpiece.
This time around, from the opening notes of “Just West of Nicollet” you can sense where this is going; sparse instrumentation through – outmostly, acoustic guitar, banjo or similar and vocals, vocals and more vocals. Across the album we hear from Kurt’s signature voice to harmonies (Beach Boys style, or otherwise) and, on “Andrew Jackson Asshat”, full choral splendor.
At the same time (and again) Wagner is in full lyrical form as the penultimate – and quite humble-seeming -“To Do” and the epic closer “No Chicago” amply show. Whether it is all a result of what Wagner went through personally, or a moment of illuminating inspiration (or both) makes no difference.
Of course, in lesser hands it could all have been a glorified mess, but, again, Wagner pulls things of, this time with full, gentle, force.
