SUNDAY SPINS: THE ALIEN COAST BY ST. PAUL & THE BROKEN BONES

          A marriage, a baby, and four records later, I still want to buy the woman who broke Paul Janeway’s heart enough to form St. Paul & the Broken Bones a drink. NPR's Tiny Desk performance pushed the band into the mainstream, like many artists before them and since. Janeway leads the group in a brilliant navy suit complete with golden dress shoes which you can see because he has chosen to perform atop the tiny desk in question. At the 3:45 mark, Bob Boilen from out of the camera’s eye asks Janeway, “Is it hot up there?”, Janeway - clearly perspiring -, “Is it hawt? Nawh, man. We’re from Alabama.”. 

          St. Paul & the Broken Bones debut, “Half the City” wrings out from our hearts, an exceptional soul album. “Sea of Noise”, the sophomore album from the band, exhibits the musical depths and growth the band has undertaken in order to improve their craft. “Young Sick Camellia” weaves tones of funk and R&B seamlessly in this album so that with every upbeat song, there is an iconic, emotional St. Paul sucker-punches you back to reality. I’ve heard “The Alien Coast” described as a “fever dream in sonic form” and hats off to the person who created such a brilliant illustration. This natural progression from soul/ R&B to funk influences appears to be the natural progression of music artists today. We’ve witnessed this with Hometown Hero, Leon Bridges and his release of, “Gold-Digger Sound” in 2021, throughout Brittany Howard’s career, and we all hope to see the same with the Black Pumas highly anticipated new album release.

          “The Alien Coast” opens in the typical, and distinctive St. Paul & the Broken Bones’ fashion, with a hymnal called, “3000 AD Mass”. This first track, serves as a prologue to the album, to introduce the background, the story, and the sound. An organ chorale accompanies Janeway’s voice, suggestively weaving outdated ideologies from the Deep South with the infinite astral space of dance music from the 1960s. “3000 AD Mass” organically transforms into “Bermejo and The Devil”. Janeway’s whispers of a song begins with a hauntingly monotone chant, Devil with the red eyes Devil with the sharp teeth Devil in the details. I expect the title is a reference to the fifteenth-century Spanish painter, Bermejo’s and his triptych piece of Saint Michael. The armored clad archangel heroically towers over a withering, potbellied, red-eyed, and sharp-toothed demon.

          “Minotaur”, the single for the record, is named after the Greek mythological beast, half-man, half-bull dwelling in the confines of an elaborate maze from society. This is the first definitive funk-influenced song on the album because of the slow but hypnotic, rhythmic baseline. St. Paul & the Broken Bones draw a correlation between being trapped in the mundane and the destructive tendencies that present themselves. This is quite poignant considering this record is just a drop in the bucket of quarantine records released within the last two years. “Atlas” is a 2-minute extension of “Minotaur” which proves to listeners my claim that this is St. Paul & the Broken Bones’ funk album. The opening baseline, the methodical drum pattern, and strategic guitar riffs, paired with modern synthesizers, set the stage for my personal favorite song on the album, “The Last Dance”. 

          The opening lines are Lose yourself in a song that doesn't make you want to cry God knows we need it right now which takes me back to sitting shell shocked by the pandemic on my sofa, staring at the gas station across the street, watching the prices drop. While that imagery may be dark, this song isn’t. It’s a trance-like song that makes you yearn for an astral projection from the COVID crisis. “Ghost in Smoke” is a slow burn, perfect to put on when you’re making up with someone, late at night. The hypnotic music ensnares the listener, the synths and cymbals add texture, the lyrics convey human desperation for connection.  It’s a hazy song, designed to get lost in. 

          Echoes from “Bermejo and The Devil” is “Alien Coast”, the same ominous face-less voice chants in the opening and post-chorus Did you kill it, did you kill it, doesn't feel good. The “Hunter and His Hounds” continues this foreboding tone. St. Paul & the Broken Bones are experimenting with their craft in a bold attempt to escape their musical pigeonhole of heartbroken soul. Even in the “Tin Man Love”, you can see glimpses of soul influences still alive in the chorus but with this new background of brooding and building melody that laces the album together. 

          “Popcorn Ceiling” is the story of isolation. It’s the out-of-body experience of long mornings in bed and the fear of putting your feet on the ground. Janeway’s voice adds a lightness and tenderness almost in juxtaposition to the tragedy of the human experience as a result of quarantine. St. Paul & the Broken Bones bring the album home to a predictable love song that reverberates from albums past. It reminds the listeners that St. Paul & the Broken Bones are exploring the sound they want to produce but at the core of the band, they can still write a solid soul song about the weight of intensity and longing. 

          Side A is crafted with calculated risk and mastery. As a life-long learner, I love finding Easter eggs in albums, like with Bermejo and the Minotaur. Side B? Is a struggle; riddled with long-winded songs that sound the same. While these B-Side songs aren’t remarkable in comparison to the band’s previous work, the songs still tie the album together. St. Paul & the Broken Bones has danced with experimentation and created an album, unlike anything they have made before. Is this an extraterrestrial account of the seemingly apocalyptic pandemic? Adrift between soul and funk influences in the atmosphere? Trying to white-knuckle nostalgia for some shred of optimism while we navigate this new world?