Experimental and ever-shifting singer/songwriter
James Jackson Toth capped off a hyper-prolific stint of output from his restless
Wooden Wand project with 2014's
Farmer's Corner LP. That album was one of several releases
Toth and friends created in a few short years, moodily hopping from loud and angsty roots rock to softly demonic experimental folk, channeling influences that ranged from classic ragged-rock figureheads like
Neil Young and
the Dead to more obscure sonic searchers.
Clipper Ship follows a three-year silence after that phase of the project, and unsurprisingly takes
Toth's sounds in a completely different direction. The tone is set in the first moments of album-opener "School's Out," with layers of patient acoustic guitars ambling between airy chords and repeating phrases as gently oscillating tremolo guitar and
Toth's husky baritone seamlessly join the mix. Unlike the live-band vibe that defined the previous era of
Wooden Wand, opulent arrangements dense with a patchwork of guitar tones and cloudy drones make up the seven songs of
Clipper Ship. Some of
Toth's best work has come from his willingness to merge elements that might be unlikely companions, and the progression from spare raga-like folk into lush, synthy ambience on the drawn-out "One Can Only Love" is a great example of this succeeding. As the song ends with a lengthy outro of stumbling acoustic guitar figures and grumbling drones, we've been transported to a place unrecognizable from where we started seven minutes earlier. As much as
Clipper Ship hinges on its guitar-heavy arrangements, the space and restraint of the songs also make them a great showcase for some of
Toth's more connective lyrical moments. In particular, "Mexican Coke" paints a beautiful and strange lyrical picture, narrated by a yard-sale bottom feeder slinking through the neighborhoods looking for treasures to flip. Similarly, album centerpiece "Mallow T'ward the River" is a spacious folk ramble about a dead outlaw uncle, finding a tone a few steps removed from
Sun Kil Moon's diary-like observations. Though almost completely devoid of percussion,
Clipper Ship's gorgeous guitars, moody ambience, and evocative lyrics somehow carry more weight and motion than the
Wooden Wand albums centered around a full band rocking out. By this point in the project's lengthy run, it would be hard to remove one chapter from the larger context of the massive discography, but
Clipper Ship feels like a standalone statement, one of powerful simplicity and masterful control. In stripping away almost everything,
Toth's songs reveal cores of sometimes blinding beauty and unsettling honesty.