Broken Down Golf Cart: Funeral Smoker
(self-released)
DL | Streaming
Out Now
Broken Down Golf Cart release DIY debut album, Funeral Smoker. Andy Brown finds something fuzzy, melodic and deeply personal.
Broken Down Golf Cart is the work of Canadian-born, Liverpool-based songwriter, producer and self-styled ‘visual art unicorn’ Jen Baranick. A staunchly DIY affair, Funeral Smoker is Baranick’s much anticipated debut album and it finds the musician at the very top of her game, delivering something fuzzy, melodic and deeply personal. While the melodies catch your attention on that all-important first spin, this is an album that really reveals itself over time. Just let it sink in.
Only last year, Baranick lost a close friend and that loss – and that love – sits at the very heart of the record. Themes of life, death and friendship permeate the songs, whether that be a reflective, diary-esque lyric or a breezy indie pop song that touches on an unavoidable universal truth. Drawn back for the umpteenth time, I realise it’s that feeling of openness that these songs capture so well. The fact that it all seems so effortless, is a testament to Baranick’s skills as a songwriter and performer.
While the singer is very much at the helm, a smattering of different drummers and bassists appear on the album alongside a little clarinet, sax and trombone. From Kelsey Gravelle’s artwork to the thematic focus, the whole package feels like a statement of artistic intent. I’m sure Baranick could have easily cobbled together a bangin’ collection of unrelated songs, but this feels far more effective. Proudly lo-fi, yet immaculately crafted, Funeral Smoker has clearly been made with the care and attention that the format deserves.
From gorgeous indie pop earworms like What Is Soul to the spacey existentialism of The Seams, the whole album slips down like a cool drink on a hot day (and yes, I am writing this in the midst of a heatwave). You’ll hear surf-like guitar, grungy aesthetics, psych pop and – unless the heat is really getting to me – a smidgeon of country. Meanwhile, the 90s alt-rock influence is undeniable and Baranick’s calm yet assured delivery reminds me of the mighty Kim Deal and the mellower moments in The Breeders repertoire.
While grief and mortality inform the songs, there’s a lot of strength, love and beauty to be found amongst the inevitable sadness. “I’ll say your name everyday/ So you never really go away,” she swoons on the opening track Dy’a Got A Ride. It’s such a simple yet vulnerable lyric, that gets across so much with very little. Elsewhere, the beautiful Mountain Sized immortalises her friend by simply using the word fantastic, an expression he was particularly fond of. Again, it’s Baranick’s ability to capture a whole world within a few lines that makes these songs so moving.
My highlights appear to change with each and every listen, but the lo-fi sigh of Ian certainly cuts deep. A memory preserved in audio amber as she softly sings: “Why’d you walk that way/ You looked like you had something to say…Nobody likes to say goodbye.” However, my current favourite has to be You’ll Die Someday Too. With its jaunty barroom jangle and late-night musings, it honestly wouldn’t have sounded out of place sung by Lee and Nancy back in ‘68. I’ve played it around 10 times in the last two days alone.
All of this, and I haven’t even mentioned the dark, haunting psych of Anatomy or the world-weary wonder of Magic. All 39-minutes of the album are infused with melodies and memories; with earworms and emotional, psych-pop deep dives. Sunshine and melancholy in equal measure. It tackles undeniably difficult subject matter yet it’s an absolute joy to listen to. That’s not a trick just any songwriter can pull off. Broken Down Golf Cart has been on my radar for a good few years now, but Funeral Smoker is something else. Simple yet complicated, just like life tends to be. Yeah, it’s pretty fantastic.
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You can find Broken Down Golf Cart on Bandcamp, YouTube, Facebook and Instagram.
All words by Andy Brown. You can visit his author profile and read more of his reviews for Louder Than War here.
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