The Wooden Birds: Two Matchsticks

Two Matchsticks is a confidently assured collection of 12 songs that work extremely well together in a consistent, even, and oak varnished form.

The Wooden Birds

Two Matchsticks

Label: Barsuk
US Release Date: 2011-06-07
UK Release Date: 2011-06-07

It pretty much looks like we’re never going to get another album out of Austin, Texas slow-core band the American Analog Set (much to the dismay of some of my music-loving friends on Facebook, who have opined about the breakup), but fans might have something to rejoice in as frontman Andrew Kenny has a new group on which to now focus his attention: the much more countrified The Wooden Birds. The band was formed in 2008 and is notable for featuring American Analog Set guest performer Leslie Sisson in the ranks, as well as Matt Pond, a noted songwriter in his own right under the Matt Pond PA moniker. Two Matchsticks marks Kenny and company’s second foray into Americana country-folk rock, and it is a confidently assured collection of 12 songs that work extremely well together in a consistent, even, and oak-varnished form.

To be honest, the first time I listened to Two Matchsticks, I found the album rather unassuming. That doesn’t mean that I didn’t like it, but I just thought that it kind of washed over you and was more of an ambient, background noise type of disc – something that was ordinary as opposed to quaint, serving no real utility other than wallpaper that didn’t draw you in and hook you with its melodies. It wasn’t until my kid sister recently gave birth to my nephew, finding myself on a train to visit her in a city two hours away, that I threw on the album (located on my handy iPod) closed my eyes, and got brilliantly swept away by the majestic, soft lull of the 12 songs found on Two Matchsticks. In other words, the album clicked for me. There’s something about the soft, barely-there percussion and plaintive male/female vocals that’s perfectly suited to the click-clack of train wheels speeding on. It's an album that brings out its best qualities on the road, taking part in a journey, plunging head-first into discovery. In fact, this disc is about as tiny, fragile, and endearingly cute as my sister’s newborn.

The trip that makes up Two Matchsticks starts off with “Folly Cub”, which boasts a dreamy, floating guitar against Kenny’s almost Lindsey Buckingham-esque crooning and shuffling percussion. (The album doesn’t boast any real drums at all, counting its beats mostly as palms slapped on the side of an acoustic guitar or mixed-down tambourines and shakers.) From there, things get a little darker with the title track, but the electric guitar work still floats by and ripples against light acoustic strumming. “Cross My Heart” is a vibes-soaked lullaby that shuffles at a slow trot. “Criminals Win” has a particular Fleetwood Mac feel to it in its quiet, halogen-lamp lit starkness. You can probably see a pattern emerging here: Two Matchsticks is an atmospheric, lush album of soft beauty that is unrelenting in its starkness over the course of its duration.

There are some very mild shakeups found along the way. About midway through the record, Kenny lets Sisson shine by handing her lead vocals on the peppy, vital “Baby Jeans”, which rolls away at more of a gallop than anything to be found on the rest of Two Matchsticks. However, the album gently settles back into its ordinary trajectory and plods from there at a mid-tempo pace, conjuring up visions of wheat fields and wide-swept prairies through its hypnotizing twang. There are side-dalliances into folksy territory, though, particularly on “Be No Lie”, the album’s penultimate track, which has an almost early Iron and Wine feel with its indie charm. However, the retreat from the hustle and bustle of everyday life that Two Matchsticks unspools is by and large staked in mid-western country territory.

If there’s any failing with Two Matchsticks, it's the lack of any real drum work. It makes the album bleed into itself a little too seamlessly, resulting in some lazy and languid moments, especially during some of the album’s most ordinary tracks, such as “Company Time”. Most of the songs on the record also have no fade-outs, so they have a habit of petering out and just stopping on a dime with no sense of connection to any real and concrete conclusions. However, the evenness that percolates throughout the album is paradoxically a bit of a strength, creating a mood that works well in certain circumstances. That makes Two Matchsticks a record to be played in low-key situations, when you’re looking to unwind and relax with a Pabst Blue Ribbon in hand or falling asleep. It also works as a grey soundtrack to drab and dull overcast days. I’m not sure what fans of the American Analog Set are going to think about Kenny’s move into country and folk territory, but Two Matchsticks, which is its own form of slow-core, is a quiet, lilting little album that is strong enough, full of a warm gauze of soft ballads, to tide over fans for the time being.


So far J. J. Abrams and Rian Johnson resemble children at play, remaking the films they fell in love with. As an audience, however, we desire a fuller experience.

As recently as the lackluster episodes I-III of the Star Wars saga, the embossed gold logo followed by scrolling prologue text was cause for excitement. In the approach to the release of any of the then new prequel installments, the Twentieth Century Fox fanfare, followed by the Lucas Film logo, teased one's impulsive excitement at a glimpse into the next installment's narrative. Then sat in the movie theatre on the anticipated day of release, the sight and sound of the Twentieth Century Fox fanfare signalled the end of fevered anticipation. Whatever happened to those times? For some of us, is it a product of youth in which age now denies us the ability to lose ourselves within such adolescent pleasure? There's no answer to this question -- only the realisation that this sensation is missing and it has been since the summer of 2005. Star Wars is now a movie to tick off your to-watch list, no longer a spark in the dreary reality of the everyday. The magic has disappeared… Star Wars is spiritually dead.

Keep reading... Show less

This has been a remarkable year for shoegaze. If it were only for the re-raising of two central pillars of the initial scene it would still have been enough, but that wasn't even the half of it.

It hardly needs to be said that the last 12 months haven't been everyone's favorite, but it does deserve to be noted that 2017 has been a remarkable year for shoegaze. If it were only for the re-raising of two central pillars of the initial scene it would still have been enough, but that wasn't even the half of it. Other longtime dreamers either reappeared or kept up their recent hot streaks, and a number of relative newcomers established their place in what has become one of the more robust rock subgenre subcultures out there.

Keep reading... Show less

​'The Ferryman': Ephemeral Ideas, Eternal Tragedies

The current cast of The Ferryman in London's West End. Photo by Johan Persson. (Courtesy of The Corner Shop)

Staggeringly multi-layered, dangerously fast-paced and rich in characterizations, dialogue and context, Jez Butterworth's new hit about a family during the time of Ireland's the Troubles leaves the audience breathless, sweaty and tearful, in a nightmarish, dry-heaving haze.

"Vanishing. It's a powerful word, that"

Northern Ireland, Rural Derry, 1981, nighttime. The local ringleader of the Irish Republican Army gun-toting comrades ambushes a priest and tells him that the body of one Seamus Carney has been recovered. It is said that the man had spent a full ten years rotting in a bog. The IRA gunslinger, Muldoon, orders the priest to arrange for the Carney family not to utter a word of what had happened to the wretched man.

Keep reading... Show less

Aaron Sorkin's real-life twister about Molly Bloom, an Olympic skier turned high-stakes poker wrangler, is scorchingly fun but never takes its heroine as seriously as the men.

Chances are, we will never see a heartwarming Aaron Sorkin movie about somebody with a learning disability or severe handicap they had to overcome. This is for the best. The most caffeinated major American screenwriter, Sorkin only seems to find his voice when inhabiting a frantically energetic persona whose thoughts outrun their ability to verbalize and emote them. The start of his latest movie, Molly's Game, is so resolutely Sorkin-esque that it's almost a self-parody. Only this time, like most of his better work, it's based on a true story.

Keep reading... Show less

There's something characteristically English about the Royal Society, whereby strangers gather under the aegis of some shared interest to read, study, and form friendships and in which they are implicitly agreed to exist insulated and apart from political differences.

There is an amusing detail in The Curious World of Samuel Pepys and John Evelyn that is emblematic of the kind of intellectual passions that animated the educated elite of late 17th-century England. We learn that Henry Oldenburg, the first secretary of the Royal Society, had for many years carried on a bitter dispute with Robert Hooke, one of the great polymaths of the era whose name still appears to students of physics and biology. Was the root of their quarrel a personality clash, was it over money or property, over love, ego, values? Something simple and recognizable? The precise source of their conflict was none of the above exactly but is nevertheless revealing of a specific early modern English context: They were in dispute, Margaret Willes writes, "over the development of the balance-spring regulator watch mechanism."

Keep reading... Show less
Pop Ten
Mixed Media
PM Picks

© 1999-2017 All rights reserved.
Popmatters is wholly independently owned and operated.