The Tallest Man On Earth, The Wild Hunt

The Tallest Man On Earth, The Wild Hunt

Reviewed by: Christian Hagen

The American ideal of the wandering folk musician is a cliché that has expanded beyond the borders of its national origin. As Guthrie and early Dylan painted the countryside with a sepia dust that shone and resonated in the hearts of the old and the young, young singers like Sweden’s The Tallest Man on Earth, real name Kristian Matsson, have taken a similar approach to the modern landscape: The self. In an age of globalization and the perpetuation of personal understanding through the internet, what mountains are without odes, what rivers and lakes without songs? Thus, we look inward to the ever-changing realm of the soul. Through Matsson’s voice comes the soul of a heartbroken, but ultimately hopeful man.

2008’s Shallow Grave was Matsson’s solo debut (he’d previously recorded as lead singer of the indie rock band Montezumas), and its darkness, with many songs referencing the peacefulness and inevitably of death, was evident, even when filtered through his straining, admittedly faux-Southern accented voice. Yet the album touched the heart of its time; the return to idyllic, pained folk lyricism and subtle finger picking reminded some of an old soul staring through young eyes at a world on the precipice, seeing only the possibilities of loss.

With The Wild Hunt, Matsson takes a surprisingly warm turn. While his lyrics still bespeak leaving behind his love and livelihood, as in the chorus of the title track (“I left my heart to the wild hunt a-comin’/I live until the call/And I plan to be forgotten when I’m gone/Yes I’ll be leaving in the Fall”), it sounds as though where he ends up may just be better than where he’s left. His voice remains strained, but the affectation has been replaced by rawness and a sense of intimacy and even playfulness. Songs like “The Drying of the Lawns” and the brilliant “King of Spain” dance with a vibrant imagery as his frantic guitar playing both highlights and distracts from the possibly more painful meaning of his words.

It’s hard to find a true standout here. Each song is stellar in one way or another. “Burden of Tomorrow” finds the immediacy of his voice contrasted with the grandiosity of his metaphors and his search for truth in the physical and metaphysical features of the world. “You’re Going Back” features potentially the hardest edge of any song on the album, his howling strains dripping with regret and anger, yet, amidst it all, love. This may be the most consistent theme of the whole album: Love existing despite, or even because of, mistakes and the different paths our lives might take. This is also summed up in the quietness of the broken love letter that is “Love is All.”

As each track bears its unique weight, the meaning of each may vary easily from listener to listener. A native Swede, Matsson’s grasp of the English language is surprisingly deep; it’s unlikely that one could unravel the symbolism and metaphor of his lyrics in one sitting. And this is only one of the many reasons that Matsson resembles the second coming of the great folk artists of the early-to-mid 20^th century. Stylistically, he favors the sound of the traveling minstrel, expelling a profound refrain wherever an instrument is to be found on his journeys. Musically, his performance hits the great range of musical emotion. He compels a listener through the depths of his saddened imagination and lets them soar with him through an air of wonder and beauty.

If it seems like Matsson has brought the hopeless romantic out of me, I can’t help it; his voice and poetry is so evocative that one willing to spend the time in his work may find himself or herself at least temporarily transformed. This is indeed the power that Matsson carries here perhaps more than in any other recording he’s made to date. Our world may seem smaller now than it was in the days of the nomadic troubadour, but Matsson, true to his moniker, is able to see above the walls of our constructed reality and find the truth: No mine can be dug so deep, no glacier can rise so high, no flame can burn so warm, and no wind can sweep so wide as the human soul.

Rating: 93%

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OMD: 94% (↑ 1%) – Kristian Mattson has, at least in my mind, earned the status as the finest and most evocative singer-songwriter of his generation. With a voice so raw and yet so personal that his words burst with personal truth and a guitar style reminiscent of the greats, The Tallest Man on Earth is in a short company, indeed.