Send "Gary Higgins " Ringtones to your Cell 
| Allmusic |
 When singer/songwriter Gary Higgins' obscure 1973 folk masterpiece Red Hash was reissued by Drag City in 2005, it caused quite a stir in indie circles. The back-story on the reissue: Ben Chasny of Six Organs of Admittance had been deeply influenced by the record and turned everybody he cared about on to it. One of those people was D.C.'s Zach Cowie, who called and wrote every Gary Higgins he could find until he found the right one and reissued the album. It's a gorgeous record, a collection of beautifully but simply articulated psychedelic folk songs that reflect the time period; it's timeless and still resonates. Anyone who hasn't heard Seconds would understandably greet it with trepidation. After all, it has been 26 years since Red Hash and the man is much older; add to this the fact that second-chance efforts are just as likely to be flameouts as they are blessings. Seconds is definitely the latter. Higgins -- who performs with some of the same musicians who appeared on Red Hash -- is in excellent voice and his guitar-playing skills are sharp, too; but more than this, his songwriting skills haven't gone down a notch. He understands what went into the songs on Red Hash and retains that here. His is a non-judgmental, personal look at life that, while full of self-examination, also had a sense of humor as the balance of tragedy. His articulation of it all is gentle and tender but unflinching -- as evidenced by some of the song titles. The set opens with "Demons," a song that is nakedly confessional even though it is dedicated to a friend. Higgins is singing about the toll of substance abuse, particularly alcohol and its self-deceptive qualities. Three acoustic guitars playing in different cadences, a bass, and keyboards (sounding alternately like an organ and a harpsichord) carry Higgins' delicate, slightly raspy baritone in waves to the listener. There is an incredible sense of vulnerability in his lyric lines, alternating between himself and others in his narrative. By contrast, "Little Squirrel," fueled by two layers of keyboards and Terry Fenton's flute, is almost a darkly humorous nursery rhyme. The keyboard sounds can be slightly cheesy, but it's because they are inexpensive instruments -- this is not a high-production recording, but it is an immediate, raw, and arresting one -- and are therefore endearing. "Ten-Speed" and "Mr. Blew" are among the recording's most poetic songs. They are different in subject: the former a folk poem that reflects love, nature, and the force of change; the latter a hardcore bit of self-reflection that can also be considered a cautionary tale. There is real melancholy in all this beauty, but at the same time there is a sense of wisdom and gratitude and, most of all, acceptance. That all said, it is the nearly 13-minute psychedelic folk suite "5 A.M. Trilogy" that is the greatest proof that Higgins not only still has it, but has it in spades. Compositionally, lyrically, and poetically, his writing here is a strange look into a window of timelessness -- past, present, and future; for all the travails in his life, Higgins has come out unbowed, with a view of the world as a difficult, often tragic, but magical place. His elegant sense of melody is the underlying factor in his utterly understated but captivating approach to songwriting. Seconds is a worthy successor to the classic Red Hash, but more than this, it is hopefully a new beginning for Higgins; god knows we need more songs like this in the world....full text |
| Dustedmagazine |
| Like Gary Wilson and Vashti Bunyan before him, Gary Higgins has parlayed the “re-discovery” and success of a decades-old album (1973’s Red Hash, rereleased by Drag City in 2005) into the opportunity to record a belated follow up, the appropriately-titled Seconds. Given the 35-year hiatus, it should come as no surprise that Seconds is hardly Red Hash part two. The stoned blissfulness and warm psychedelia of that album is here replaced by a more grounded, if world-weary, brand of folk-rock, while the rich sounds of the 1970s analog studio are replaced by the rather tinny tones of DIY digital. Upon first listen, the magic of Red Hash seems to have dissipated on Seconds as a result of the rather low-budget production, of which the album bears all of the hallmarks: the acoustic guitars (plugged-in rather than mic’d) are brittle and shrill, percussion is provided by drum machine, and strings by synthesizer. The music, meanwhile, seems rather anonymous. The primary style employed here is that of a tepid acoustic rock, with occasional forays into a more aggressive but all-too-mechanical blues rock (“Mister Blew,” “Don’t Wanna Lose”). Higgins’s quirkiness remains largely in the background, only fully surfacing on the synth-orchestral “Squirrel,” an ode to a dead rodent that displays far too much enthusiasm for lo-tech studio tricks (witness the vocal pitch-shifting employed throughout and the bizarre animal sounds at its conclusion)....full text |
| Prefixmag |
| On the whole, reissues are reseved for obvious classics, and often come off as unnecessary or overdone. But that wasn't the came with Gary Higgins's Red Hash, the hidden '70s gem that Drag City unearthed back in 2005. The album became a surprise hit for the label, and got Higgins back out on the road and writing. And the result of this rebirth is his new album, Seconds. It's hard to imagine how an artist goes about making a sophomore album 35 years after his debut, but hearing Higgins on this album makes it clear that he's just plain into the music again. Like on Red Hash, his guitar playing is out front and on display here, and it is uniformly striking. The stringy solos on "Mister Blew" and the twangy layers of "When I Was Young" show Higgins as not only a nimble guitarist but also a stunning arranger. Despite a heavy reliance on acoustic guitar, the album never rests on one sound and feels fresh throughout. Unfortunately, the songs that shape all these solid sounds don't quite come together. Many of the songs feel stretched beyond their reach. "Demons," a tale of waning friendship with someone who "snorts their coke line by line," feels much longer than its four-minute running time. And "Ten-Speed," pushing past the seven-minute mark, falls apart as it goes. The problem is that sure, these songs all shimmer and rest on a comforting, laid-back vibe. But in that loose sound Higgins seems to wander, rooting too long in the same soil rather than searching out new ground....full text |
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