Buxton: Half a Native

It’s unusual for a band to abruptly change direction so early into a career. And when that change comes only three albums in, it makes those initial efforts seem like a false start. Imagine a dialogue that goes something like this: “Oh never mind, can we rewind… maybe start over… we didn’t know quite what we were doing.”

Strange as it may seem, some ensembles do opt to correct their course early on, and then bank on renewed acceptance to propel them forward. The Houston-based band Buxton opts for this approach and in so doing, alters the alt-country dynamic established with their first two albums. Yet, while the new direction appears fruitful, it also comes with an inherent risk. After all, they’ve already garnered a pair of Houston Press Music awards — as best Houston Folk/Americana band as well as for Best Male Vocals for singer Sergio Trevino – as a result of the route they took when they were just starting out.

Hopefully then, those early accolades won’t be revoked. And indeed, given the evidence presented herein, there’s no reason for reconsideration. The shimmering sun on the front cover symbolizes the serendipitous approach embodied in this current set of songs, one that drifts dreamily from the subdued sound gracing the title song to the mellow and ethereal “A Little Bit More”, the supple and soothing vibe of “Old Haunt” and the haunting effervescence instilled in “Be Somebody Else”.

So too, beyond the motif established by any individual track, the music is bound by an adventurous spirit the album embraces overall. Producer Thom Monahan (Peter, Bjorn & John, Devendra Banhart and Vetiver) brings with him a certain cerebral sensibility, one that doesn’t hold to any particular style but emphasizes instead a sprawling expanse filled with adventurous intents. As a result, it’s practically impossible to typecast the album overall or categorize the individual entries. And while that may thwart any effort to typecast these proceedings for the sake of easy accessibility, the inherent fascination that comes with discerning exactly where the band is heading is in itself worth the price of admission.

It ought to be clear by now that Half a Native isn’t the kind of album that accommodates a quick listen or a half-hearted encounter. To the contrary, the music takes time to sink in, making each repeat listen as enlightening and entertaining as the one that came before. The melodies are enthralling, but they don’t reveal themselves the first time around, all the better to ensure lingering appeal. The elusive nature of Buxton’s new M.O. is decided and deliberate, a tease and temptation that gives this album special distinction.

Still, for all these sinewy moments, the sentiments the songs conveyed are basically about homespun homilies, with tales of dusty barrooms, pool halls, homecoming queens and losers in love. “C’mon baby, we can run amuck / Hidin’ in the back of a pickup truck / You can call your brother Charlie / Can I call him Chuck / Man, I don’t wanna press my luck,” they proclaim on “What I’d Do.” It’s a message of recklessness that more or less typifies Buxton’s fresh new spirit and one that finds them all the better for it.