Send "Cass McCombs " Ringtones to your Cell 
| Pitchfork |
 Singer-songwriter Cass McCombs named his fifth album WIT'S END, not WITS' END. The distinction is slight, but telling. Because "wits" usually refers to an overall sense of sanity while "wit" is more commonly associated with one's cleverness or humor. And this record does not mark the end of McCombs' good judgment. Quite the contrary. However, it is not funny or quick or especially nimble-minded. Over the course of his previous four albums, McCombs fashioned himself an enigmatic vagabond in the classic Dylan mold, yet it wasn't until 2009's Catacombs that his enigma started to feel more like a complement than a crutch. While he may have let his wit get the better of him before through knowingly obtuse lyrics and showy arrangements, WIT'S END fittingly leaves those days behind. This is a gorgeous album of despair, the most believable evidence yet that McCombs is living up to his own legend.Catacombs had McCombs stripping away the instrumentation he had built up around his songs, ending with a bare naturalism that suited him well. And WIT'S END goes even further, its the empty spaces and deliberate tempos suiting the album's immense loneliness. To get an idea of how desolate, exactly, consider that opening track "County Line"-- an inching ballad about severe unrequited love with its own frighteningly real, syringe-filled junkie video-- is the jauntiest thing here. Catacombs highlight "You Saved My Life" saw McCombs voicing startling sincere and direct affection; if someone played it at a wedding, grandparents might not blink. The direness of WIT'S END suggests the California-born singer may need some more saving; if someone played these songs at a funeral, sons and daughters would bow their heads solemnly. So yeah, this record is a downer. But there's rare beauty in such darkness, too-- just look at forebears like Leonard Cohen, Elliott Smith, and Nick Drake. Or even Edgar Allan Poe. Because, along with its mopiness, WIT'S END is creepy as hell. Its gothic eeriness embodies not Poe's famous tales as much as his more ethereal and lovelorn poems. In the author's 1827 verse "Spirits of the Dead", he characterizes the titular ghosts as comforting-- "a mystery of mysteries!" And that same infatuation with wispy denouements is all over WIT'S END, but much like Poe's spirits, McCombs' songs bring life to their withering characters over and over again....full text |
| Consequenceofsound |
| Enigmatic roamer Cass McCombs can hardly be pinned down – musically or otherwise. The typical singer-songwriter label isn’t applicable to his catalog, he’s spent his adult years traipsing about the country, and his standoffish, mysterious public persona only adds to the intrigue. On this fifth full-length outing, Wit’s End, though, we find McCombs staying in one place, settled into a soundscape consumed with thoughts of darkness and death – and effortlessly transporting the listener there as well, with undeniable finesse. The album begins with single “County Line”, a strong, structured track rich in bass and completed with McCombs’ delicate falsetto longing for lost love. The slow, unassuming nature of the song sets the stage for the rest of the album, as these eight songs fail to outwardly demand your attention but earn it with their masterful execution and subtleties. “Buried Alive” functions as Wit’s End‘s thesis statement, as each track inundates the listener with layers upon layers of morose melodies, dirge-like lyrics, and lethargic repetition to the point of inescapable asphyxiation. Instead of being uncomfortable, though, the experience is a woozy, intoxicating, and weirdly enjoyable one, as reality gives way to McCombs’ soothing, brooding vocals. The weight of the album is its strength, as he takes care to meticulously strike the perfect balance between dark and contemplative versus downright depressing....full text |
| Musicomh |
| Elusive Californian Cass McCombs is said to lead a nomadic existence, living on coaches, campsites and in cars. So it comes as no surprise to detect a feel of restlessness in his intimate bookish songs. His third album to be released with Domino, and fifth-and-a-half in total, was two years in the making and recorded in various homes and studios across the US. Reunited with Ariel Rechstshaid on production duties, who also worked on 2009's Catacombs, they've built on the great promise of that album. Wit's End opens with easily the most accessible and focussed song, County Line. The album's lead single, it's a sun kissed slice of classic romantic Rhodes organ fuelled pop of infectious melodies and swooping falsetto. Akin to David Vandervelde's similarly gorgeous I Will Be Fine, it's a soundtrack to walking along a beach with a lover. After this a darker downbeat melancholy dominates across a sparkling The Lonely Doll, distant chiming Buried Alive, and the gently rising sad piano refrain of Saturday Song. Memory's Stain starts with a classical piano feel and seems fused with self doubt. "I have a confession in the form of a question," he sings, full of yearning. The song seems to end then gives way to an elongated bass clarinet coda. Hermit's Cave starts with the bouncing optimistic waltzing verse "In my 27th year, I set out to confront my fears, and found the role of a lifetime" yet breaks down into a sparse, bleak chorus. Pleasant Shadow Song has a charming lilting melody, while epic nine minute closer A Knock Upon The Door is all Tom Waits-like lo-fi percussion with sounds of spoons hitting glasses and feet stamping on the floor....full text |
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