Years to Burn, Joe

Ugh... where am I?

"Okay class, you have sixty minutes to complete your final exam. You may bring your forms to the front and place them in a pile on my desk when you are finished." As she spoke, she absentmindedly pointed to the desk in question. She stood in front of one of those electronic whiteboards, and projected on the screen was a bright, colorful picture of about two dozen multicolored faces, all looking skyward, piled up as if a collection of discarded masks.

I looked down at the blank white sheet in front of me. It was completely empty except for the small words in black, 8-pt Times New Roman font, at the very top of the page: "Please write a review for the album Years to Burn, a collaborative effort between artists Calexico and Iron & Wine." I guess this is a pretty open-ended exam. There's not much in the way of hints in that sparse directive; this isn't like those multiple-choice Scantron exams where you can find answers to some questions embedded in other questions. I needed to know my shit. But I did not, in fact, know my shit. Hadn't even an inkling.

I could just try to cheat. While our exam proctor was sitting at the desk, ostensibly immersed in a private quest to discover how flexible her pencil really was, I subtly slipped my left hand into the front pocket of the jet black Jansport backpack on the floor, and pulled out a small piece of paper folded in quarters. Slowly unfolding it, out of sight of prying eyes, I read the cheat sheet that I had printed out after Googling "how to write an album review" (ya know, instead of spending my precious time actually studying for a final exam, it seems).

I lowered my head and started writing, using the small piece of paper as a guide, but still feeling like I had no fucking clue what I was doing. The anxiety was overwhelming. Why couldn't I remember a single class or lecture prior to this moment? Had I missed every class? No time to think.

A. MUSICIAN/BAND BACKGROUND: What do you know about this artist/band? What is their background? What are some of their previous releases? Did you like those previous releases?

"Iron & Wine is the only artist to appear on mixtapes made for me by an ex-girlfriend and by my now-wife, and they are two very different mixtapes, so I feel like Iron & Wine should be more important in my life than they currently are. I've tried out a few of their albums in the past—Our Endless Numbered Days and The Shepherd's Dog seem to be the most popular '00s albums—and I found them kind of lacking in catchiness or heft (besides the mixtape songs themselves). I think that's why Beast Epic surprised me so much in 2017; it was the same style Iron & Wine has always played in (kinda slow and bare), but all of a sudden the songs were a lot more interesting to me. I can't explain what the difference was. It's beyond my reach. But the stickiness was there. I was relieved.

"As far as Calexico goes, I have no fucking clue, which I guess makes this album similar to a previous Record Club pick, CORRESPONDENCE. I'm familiar with one artist, and I have never heard of the other one, so the question is: will the band I know be affected in positive or negative ways by the band I don't know? Will Iron & Wine become more muscular, more intense in the presence of another band? Or will they force their worst impulses on the other band, and fall flat? (Sidenote: I'm referring to Iron & Wine as "they," but it's really only one dude, Sam Beam. He seems cool. Okay, continuing on, let's check the cheat sheet...)"

B. THE ALBUM ITSELF: Is there an overall theme for this CD? How would you describe it? Think about the lyrics; how do these lyrics apply to the theme?

"If there's a theme to Years to Burn, then it definitely has something to do with nature. All kinds of bucolic imagery are weaved throughout the entire album—desert expanses, tall mountains, sleepy towns, chasing your love around a tree. This isn't anything outside of Sam Beam's typical wheelhouse, but he really gives Bon Iver a run for his money on this album.

"But if we're sticking with our theme of 'How is this different from / the same as what I already know of Iron & Wine?', then the answer is 'it's pretty much the same.' Sure, there are plenty of flourishes that would have no place on an I&W album proper—some trumpet riffs, multi-part suites with Spanish-language sections—but for the most part, Sam Beam is regressing back to the sounds that never captured my attention, way back when."

C. IMPRESSION/OPINIONS: Which tracks stand out? Why? Which tracks "sag"? Why? How does this album compare to other albums in this genre?

"Of course, there are a few exceptions to the 'slightly boring' descriptor, and when you consider that there are only eight songs total, even a couple of exceptions makes the good times a pretty threatening minority. The only song that stood out to me as having a refrain that stuck with me was 'Father Mountain.' It's the only song that Beam sings with any sense of urgency, which is a good look for him (whether he agrees or not, I don't know). And yeah, that aforementioned multi-part song, 'The Bitter Suite,' has some pretty great moments too, but I'm getting the sense that this was Calexico's doing for the most part; no way Iron & Wine are jamming out on their own in the way that the middle part of this song does.

"Yes, if you must know, there is a song that 'sags,' and if you've read my reviews the past two weeks, you know exactly what song I'm going to say. I was literally pulling my hair out listening to 'Outside El Paso,' which is a formless sound exercise that means nothing to me, and adds nothing to the album but heaps of frustration for yours truly. For the third week in a row, shouting for all the bands sitting in the back row—if you can't write enough songs for an album, just fucking release an EP! Stop with this bullshit!

"But in between the few highs and the few lowest lows you find some pretty, fluttering acoustic ditties that are pleasant to hear but make zero impact on me whatsoever."

D. OVERALL RATING / FINAL COMMENTS: Give the album a rating and explain why.

"Years to Burn is completely harmless. I honestly mean that in a good way! I have no qualms about listening to this album. It's about as soothing as a pretty sunset. But I'm not the type of guy to take a picture of that sunset and post it on Instagram and beg for likes and comments. It's just a fucking sunset, after all.

"My GRADE for this album is 2.5 pukes out of 5. Thank you."

As I was walking toward the front of the classroom with my completed essay/review, I woke up. Found myself in bed next to a sleeping Pam.

"Pam, wake up honey."

"What?"

"I had the dream again."

"The one where you are taking a final exam that you didn't prepare for?"

"Yeah, but this time the exam was about your album of the week. I even had a cheat sheet. But I still didn't know what I was doing."

"Babe, it's been twenty weeks. You should know how to write a goddamn album review by now."

"Clearly my subconscious is telling me that I don't know shit."

"Just create a narrative and then explain the album through that narrative."

"That's... That's actually pretty good... wait, what's that?"

And as the clock turned silently from 5:59 to 6:00, I saw Pam silently fold up a piece of paper into quarters, place it in a bedside drawer, and by 6:01, small rhythmic exhalations from her side of the bed told me she had fallen asleep again.

I turned to my dream journal and, in the early morning glow of sunrise, I wrote this review in it. I was sure to note the irony of the fact that the core of my review's argument was that Years to Burn was pleasant but inconsequential, forgettable even, but yet there I was, lying awake at 6:30 in the morning, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the album, and what it all meant.