this is appearing in greatly truncated form (cut in half, actually) in 
     tomorrow's paper; the director's cut to follow is a P2 exclusive... By 
     the way, Neal baby, none of the following is directed at you - your 
     take has seemed much more on-target than many I've read. CW
     
     * * *
     
     SPARKLEHORSE with Varnaline
     The Horseshoe on Tuesday, April 13
     
     By CARL WILSON
     The Globe and Mail, Toronto
     
     The critical reception of Richmond, Va. rock band Sparklehorse seems a 
     sort of bellwether of the well-meaningly misguided End Times we're 
     living in. The albums songwriter Mark Linkous has issued under this 
     monicker (1996's Vivadixiesubmarinetransmissionplot and last year's 
     Good Morning Spider, both Capitol-EMI) deserve their applause, even 
     their places on numerous Best-of-the-Year lists.
     
     But Linkous's Valium-and-antidepressants overdose in a London hotel 
     room the year of his first album has made him press fodder for all the 
     wrong reasons - though admittedly it's hard to resist bringing up that 
     a performer was literally dead for a few minutes and had to spend many 
     months in a wheelchair. (I didn't get two paragraphs without saying so 
     myself, did I?)
     
     Thus, Sparklehorse is so far a band much more written-about than 
     heard, and that breeds confusion. After Varnaline's pleasant 
     Velvets-to-Huskers opening set in a hotly packed Horseshoe club in 
     Toronto on Tuesday night, the buzz began: "So do you have any idea 
     what they sound like" "Well, I read . . . " Often, the adjectives that 
     followed were way off.
     
     Sparklehorse Misconception One is that the name refers to ranches and 
     rodeos, when in fact the steeds in question are the carousel kind. 
     True, Linkous comes from a coal-mining family that had Johnny Cash on 
     their 8-Track, and professes his love for traditional and country 
     musics. But even his acoustic numbers remain mopey rock, and his best 
     tunes are true pop, albeit inflected with violin or steel guitar.
     
     Sparklehorse Misconception Two is that Sparklehorse is somehow 
     experimental, avant-garde, "wild." Yes, Linkous is eccentric enough to 
     stand out, but no more than college-radio favourites like Mercury Rev 
     and the Flaming Lips, though without their psychedelic excesses. 
     Lyrically, he's twisted and tender, but has none of the sting of his 
     friend Vic Chesnutt, the permanently wheelchair-bound misanthrope who 
     lends his whine to a track on Good Morning, Spider and whose own songs 
     seem written by a maudlin-drunk Dr. Seuss.
     
     Linkous does follow his hero Tom Waits in varying his sonic palette. 
     He had sideman Jonathan E. Segel (ex-Camper Van Beethoven) play 
     glockenspiel instead of fiddle or guitar on several songs Tuesday 
     night, and there were some found-sound tape loops and a second, 
     filtered microphone to put some rusty edge on Linkous's 
     overgrown-choirboy pipes. And bassist Bob Rupe (of Cracker) spent part 
     of the time on electric and part on an upright, which cast a shapely 
     silhouette against the cityscape film loops projected on the stage 
     backdrop. But unlike Waits, Linkous isn't reinventing music from 
     scratch, merely putting exiting tools to deft use.
     
     Still, Sparklehorse is one of the most personable, evocative rock 
     projects going, with an emotional depth befitting someone who can 
     manage nearly to blitz himself on anti-depressants and yet a 
     surprisingly sun-kissed optimism of melody. Linkous seems to have made 
     a slogan as well as a song out of Roberto Benigni's broken-English 
     line from Down By Law: It's a Sad and Beautiful World.
     
     He seemed a bit tour-tuckered on Tuesday, thanking the crowd for 
     "staying up so late to see us," asking for whiskey and smokes, and 
     doing only a grudging encore. But what transpired between midnight and 
     1:30 a.m. was stimulating enough. In a cowboy hat too big for his 
     none-too-small head, the lanky singer-guitarist steered his group - 
     rounded out by drummer Scott Minor - through a set that mixed Spider's 
     woozy lullabies with the debut's rock rousers, plus the odd mad 
     moment. (A sound effect goes boing, boing, boing a few too many times, 
     and Linkous grins, "Everybody! C'mon, dance!"; Linkous returns for the 
     encore in a rabbit mask.)
     
     Though the arrangements fuzzed out into southern rock too often for my 
     ears, that wounded voice rang through clearly and Segal's sinewy 
     violin was on-call to redeem the blander moments. The spookiest bits 
     were best, such as the Pixies-esque Sunshine: "There will come a time/ 
     Gigantic waves will crush the junk that I have saved,/ When the moon 
     explodes or floats away/ I'll lose the souvenirs I made/ La-la-la."
     
     La-la-la, indeed - Sparklehorse isn't the cavalry riding to the rescue 
     of rock, but sometimes you get a nicer vantage point from atop a 
     merry-go-round.

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