Send "Devendra Banhart " Ringtones to your Cell 
| Dustedmagazine |
 In 2002, Devandra Banhart burst like a match in the dark, shining luminously and all but impossible to ignore. His first collection, Oh Me Oh My..., was a bright set of recordings and a textbook case of great expectations. Without taking anything away from the songs themselves — and, no doubt, they were worthy on their own terms — it was the potential they harbored that impressed most. Listening to Banhart’s early work now is a bit like re-watching Dwayne Wade in the 2003 NCAA tournament, reading Rabbit, Run, or, I imagine, witnessing a rig’s drill crack a spray of crude oil against the sky. The power of the early Banhart songs was their premonition of what was to come, their revelation of the possibilities within him. It was the seductive promise of an artist on the ascent. Skipping forward to the end of the decade, through the stark simplicity of Rejoicing in the Hands, the richer orchestrations Niño Rojo, and the increasingly divergent and tangential directions of Cripple Crow, we find Banhart at something of a crossroads. He has made it. His surname is an unnecessary appendage — say the word “Devandra,” and everyone in the room will know whom you’re talking about. Many who couldn’t tell the difference between Vetiver and Velveeta would recognize an image of Banhart’s hirsute face. (Dating a Hollywood starlet and looking slightly Manson-ish helps on that front.) And no man can perform off-center folk music without being referred to his example. For a physically slight person, Banhart casts a long shadow. Yet, Banhart’s immanence has always been limited by the weirdness of his music and the size of his promotional arsenal. No more, though. Banhart jumped to a major label this year, and What Will We Be, his first recording on Warner/Reprise, marks the beginning of the end of his transition from Oh Me Oh My’s primitivism to mass culture’s sonic boom. The title What Will We Be suggests resignation, reluctance even, to this development. But its contents show a commitment to the cause, a final leap from the fringe to the fore. The eccentric still lives to some extent. What Will We Be includes songs written from a child’s point of view about love and intimacy (“Chin Chin and Muck Muck”), silly lyrics set to seriously constructed tunes (“Willamdzi”), plastic pronunciation and wordplay (the insertion of additional syllables in the couplet “wild when/smiling” on “Can’t Help”), Spanish cooing (the moody “Brindo”), and, of course, warbling in that all-shook-up vibrato. But those moments have been seriously toned down in exchange for an approach that intends to register as classic but feels quite standard....full text |
| Popmatters |
| Though it wasn’t that well-received by the critics, I quite enjoyed Devendra Banhart’s last album. Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon found the singer in jovial good form—from the goofy comedics of “Shabop Shalom” to the Charolastra-worthy “Seahorse”, the album had a slacker optimism that was difficult to hate. And despite not being quite as ambitious as his earlier Cripple Crow, or as goodnaturedly warped as his breakout Rejoicing in the Hands. But Banhart’s been around now for seven years, and is now seven albums in. So it’s no longer a matter of proving anything; and Banhart himself has shown a nonchalant disregard for convention, which has made following his various appetites consistently interesting. But long-time followers of the musician may not have expected what happened last year, when the singer signed with a major label. What Will We Be may be his Warner debut, but just as his fans hoped, Banhart proves to be largely un-major-label-able. Basically, he’s taken the Warner funding and recorded an album—with the same musicians as for Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon—in a remote cottage somewhere in California’s hills. It’s not surprising that What Will We Be sounds, then, like a relaxed, slightly crisper take on the ideas that informed his previous release. This haze of lazy Tropicalia, occasionally interrupted by an indulged moment of proggy vamp, isn’t necessarily a compromise. It really depends on whether you think that the previous, kooky persona Banhart cultivated was a put-on or whether that was his true aesthetic. If the former, you’ll welcome this more straightforward material. If, however, you quite enjoyed that hardcore oddball outlook, he’s moving further and further away....full text |
| Blogcritics |
| I have a hard time trying to define him, his music, or his true intentions for being on this planet. It's a stretch, I know, to start to question an artist's sanity let alone existence, but Banhart and his brand of "naturalismo" — or freak folk to the rest of the unenlightened world — blur the boundaries of convention and genre so well and so much that his sound becomes his own distinction. Yes, in a way, Banhart is his own genre label. It's hard to believe that What Will We Be is Banhart's seventh full-length album and yet also his major label debut. If What Will We Be sounds as if it was recorded in a carefree, calming, and surrounded-by-friends environment, then Banhart and the band succeeded in recreating that lazy fun-filled experience during their getaway in a sleepy northern California town for the rest of us to enjoy. From top to bottom, What Will We Be is consistent in mood, flow, and passion. The opening "Can't Help But Smiling" says it all in establishing both the mindset and tone that Banhart wants to set. The Cat Stevens-esque "Angelika" then transports you to a sun-filled grassland where it's nothing but tranquility as far as the eyes could see, before rituals of dance and ganga use arise when night falls during the song's second half. No, this isn't your mother's excursion to Woodstock — although that would be cool. And this isn't the making of a tree-worshipping cult — although that would also be cool. Banhart's music has a way of making you feel like everything's all right without having to really say it....full text |
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