Rain Machine – Rain Machine

Since his band (TV On The Radio, if you didn’t know) is currently on hiatus for a short spell Kyp Malone has decided to venture solo under the moniker Rain Machine. The album is a sophisticated form of art folk, designed for hip smoky basement bars where the whiskey is strong enough to put hairs on your chest. What sets this album apart from most other one man and his guitar albums are the subtle changes in Malone’s vocals, his voice becomes an instrument and tells the story of the song in a more concise way than the lyrics, swiftly changing from sorrow, to anger after lust and jubilation.

The illuminating tribal marimba and scorched guitar makes ‘Give Blood’ a sassy jaunt through an art house asylum, Malone’s vocals teeter on the edge of madness. Then things dramatically settle down, ‘New Last Name’ is laid back and close in tempo to the end of the passionate eruption of ‘Hold You Holy’, a track that revels in carnal ecstasy.

Some solo projects are woefully undercooked, this one is beautifully produced, the backwater moonshine ballad ‘Driftwood Heart’ is a lesson in intimacy. ‘Smiling Black Faces’ opens with an ominous toll, the song is an insightful comment on race, covering a variety of issues from African genocide to the brutal slaying of Sean Bell at the hands of the NYPD. Maybe highlighting how we as individuals can become moved about issues we are detached from, yet turn a blind eye to what happens on our doorsteps.

Not everything works; ‘Desperate Bitch’ is a maudlin mumble of melancholic bleating, if you saw a chap busking this song you’d quicken your pace to get away. ‘Love Won’t Save You’ is equally as brooding but infinitely better, the strings are thrashed harder. The long winded ‘Winter Song’ brings the album to a close; it’s a real old fashioned jam and rather world weary.

There is a lot to admire about this album, solo projects can be over indulgent and predictably this one is. Kyp Malone has made the record he wants to hear, and whilst we must expect him for his artistic choices it is an album lacking any approachability. We are getting a conker shell, barbed and spiky; once we get inside of that shell we find decay. The emotions displayed are negative ones, but importantly they are sincere. Rain Machine reminds me a lot of John Frusciante’s solo work, in that it puts the heart on the chopping book, everything is on display.