“It wasn’t meant to be the name a saint has, but a quality – like, ‘oh, that guy has saint solitude.’”
Clearly, Dup Crosson needs some space.
As the architect and sole songwriter of Saint Solitude, he will be the first to tell you that for every public musical endeavor there is an equal and opposite need to recharge and re act. The multi-instrumentalist says he’s only musically introverted, but that character still inhabits his output. Saint Solitude has evolved from an early incarnation of sparse, wintry Thom Yorke-esque solo material to a high-volume loop act, and then to indie-pop power trio and beyond.
The project, initially designed as nothing more than the means for a consistent songwriting outlet, quickly became Crosson's focal point as he toured solo for several years in support of two self-released EPs. The first full-length, 2010's Journal of Retreat, was home-recorded in a one-bedroom house in a cheap-rent neighborhood in Asheville, NC -- Crosson's on-again, off -again home base for the past 8 years. The record explores everything from Britpop-meets-post-punk snap (“Let’s Try it,” “And After”) to gently apocalyptic organ-driven gospel (“Flocking Disaster”). Most daring, possibly, is the build from precise minimalism to Spiritualized-level noisegaze in the de fiant, literate “So Much for the Secret.”
An ensuing solo tour took him coast to coast in an aging Saturn. He slept under the stars and made side-trips to National Parks, liberally mixing Thoreau and Kerouac. After three months on the road with his loop pedal he returned to Asheville dreaming of a rhythm section. Crosson -- a drummer at heart -- dropped the one-man show and brought in a backing band. With sharp, precise drums and a bassist who actively complemented Crosson’s articulate guitar stylings, Saint Solitude’s live show quickly surpassed the energy set forth on Journal of Retreat and took the band up and down the East Coast throughout 2010.
The latest o ffering from Saint Solitude is once again a melting pot of buoyant, engaging rock songs. After having lived and toured with the songs that made up his debut for a better part of 2 years, main songwriter Dup Crosson found himself toying with a number of exciting new in fluences; learning folk songs by way of Woody Guthrie and Tom Waits, and revisiting the early soul records of the 1950s and 60s. Rejuvenated by the live band that backed him for his 2010 gigs and inspired by these new in fluences, it only seemed fit to write the type of album he'd always wanted to make: a big, sparkling rock record. Choosing this time to record solely in the studio, the new songs soon revealed themselves to be deserving of only the most massive of drum and guitar sounds, peppered with cello, trumpet, glockenspiel, organ, and homemade music boxes. Producer Andrew Schatzberg helped manage these lofty ambitions into bold and cohesive landscapes, bringing Crosson's delicate, heartfelt vocals to the foreground.
Much like all the output of Saint Solitude, By Some Great Storm builds on a bed of charismatic pop. From there, it quickly journeys through the reaches of soaring arena rock ("Lifted," "Put It To Truth"), sidewinding art house fi ctions ("Refl ections of A Gallery Janitor"), and re flective piano ballads, the latter demonstrated most gloriously with the closing lullaby "Dreams Of Increase," which brings the album to a close with a chorus of sweeping cellos. Whereas the previous album Journal of Retreat was built on reserves of gleaming delay and reverb, By Some Great Storm is positively adrift in bittersweet fuzz, and is the first album of Crosson's to heavily reference his beloved Smashing Pumpkins. The album is an impassioned and confi dent statement from a musician who wants to remind us how good it feels to be swept away by an ocean of guitars.
