Pete Kilpatrick |
Pete Kilpatrick is the new star of the Portland music scene. A fresh-faced young twentysomething, Kilpatrick simply does everything right, makes all the best decisions, does a city proud. Weaned on the music of Albee, Gutter, and Craven, like Adam Flaherty or the Kingpin Wrecking Crew, he’s become Portland’s favorite son, deserving of a collective pinch of the cheek.Best of all, he’s a humble, hard-working musician who’s constantly trying to make himself better, asking tons of questions and producing a third consecutive album, Louder than the Storm, to be released this Tuesday, that shows a leap of artistic growth.
How earnest is this kid? Producer Jon Wyman says Kilpatrick has been paying installments for a year (seriously, a musician with a savings plan?) so he’d be able to bang out this newest album all in one go, without care for studio hours or getting it right the first time. The result is an immediate, fresh album that feels like Yesterday Love written tomorrow and hangs together just like a good set during one of Kilpatrick’s weekly summer gigs at Bull Feeney’s.
We’re not too far, after all, from Love’s 2005 release, and it’s not like Kilpatrick has changed his MO significantly. He plays his good heart to good effect, mixing in earnest pleas for true love with up-beat narratives, and winds up escaping the cliché and cheesy by never disappointing with the instrumentation or genuine emotion. He also makes sure to include flourishes of intelligent songwriting that should keep music nerds pacified (though, if you’re a prog-rock or metal guy, even an indie-rocker, you’ll probably not have much time for Kilpatrick’s brand of pop).
“The Owl and the Hedgehog” hints at the story of the scarecrow and snowman from last year’s biggest local AAA single, “Working on Your Heart,” fading into the album’s opening with Kilpatrick’s vocals high in the mix and a space-rock guitar lick from Guster’s Adam Gardner, with whom Kilpatrick has become fast friends. Is it too much to hope that he’s referencing Erica Jong when he insists it’s “not a fear of flying/ Just the thought of dying/ But never knowing why”? A rock star even a feminist can love?
Like many of the tunes here, this is an ode: “And it’s a lovely afternoon/ And I’m driving/ With cruise control/ My darlin’, she don’t miss a beat/ When she’s movin’, she’s got so much soul.” Is this to a car? When the chorus progresses to a “brilliant afternoon” where his darling is dancing, one thinks maybe not.
“Like Sirens” is pretty clearly cut from the ode-to-gal cloth. A swirling drum line from Matt Lydon, heavy on the snares, props up Kilpatrick’s vocals while the bass punctuates his delivery. Then, for the second verse, Gardner again chimes in with an interestingly distorted guitar. The important question, though, is: “Are you gonna be honest/ When I ask you for the truth?” God! He’s so vulnerable.
When the bridge hits, it’s almost too much. “If I’m coming on way too strong,” he sings, “just let me know/ I’ll be your calm before the storm.” I mean, wait a second. Aren’t you supposed to be Louder than the Storm, Pete? Take charge.
