Record Review: Nana Grizol – Ruth

By Erik Stefan

Nana, I thought I knew ya…

After one night in the dingy confines of Chicago’s Metro, I quickly lumped Nana Grizol on the pile of Elephant 6 power-pop bands á la Apples in Stereo. By no stretch a bad thing, but there are a lot of great bands on that heap. Nana Grizol did have a few tricks that night, most notably the horns that mourned as much as they reveled and the duel drummer attack that served up a steady diet of pure energy.

With the release of Ruth, Nana Grizol have strategically side-stepped my assertions. Fading (but still evident) are the Apples in Stereo predilections, giving ground to the more esoteric and moody meditations of Neutral Milk Hotel (not surprising due to the shared members). This similarity stretches beyond the musical landscape to Theo Hilton’s vocal tendencies that at times are reminiscent of Jeff Magnum. The steady drumming via Chicago comes in calculated fury on Ruth with the horn section lamenting on softer songs before bouncing back with a swagger for the dancehall burners. The secret weapon throughout Ruth though is the seamless string of warm and fuzzy bass tones. They walk, they wiggle, they provide a groovy foundation, all while serving as a counterpoint to the propulsive beat.

Right off the bat, “Cynicism” (Ruth’s opening track) eludes my pre-conceived notions with its soft finger-picking and thoughtful vocals. When Theo sings, “Cynicism is a lazy way to say I’ve been burned,” I kind of feel like he’s reprimanding me politely for my ill-placed pigeonhole. Just then, the horns take over and segue into “Galaxies,” sating my power-pop jones with its chirping guitars and (you guessed it) double-dosed drum salvo. This one-two punch sets up the would-be stand-out track “Black Box.” Unfortunately, this “Black Box” is never recovered after crashing without a strong vocal hook to lure in the listener. The music and song structure are reminiscent of Bright Eyes’ “To Love or Not Be Love (Let’s Not Shit Ourselves),” but with a less compelling storyline “Black Box” rambles.

“From Here” and “Arthur Hall” suffer a bit from mid-song meander into instrumental purgatory. It’s hard to get excited about these songs’ resolutions, but the musicianship is exceptional. Fortunately, “For Things That Haven’t Come Yet” brings back the concise pop with purposeful horns and that same warm, vintage bass sound. And then, in the instant I thought the song would relapse to a horn-driven jam session, it ends fitfully. “For Things” would have made a strong closing argument for the record. “Sands,” the album’s final track, is strong, but “For Things” felt like a culmination.

We all have a “Ruth,” a wish-we-would’ve-done-something-different. Listening to Nana Grizol, I wonder whether an album like Ruth is ever really heard or understood by these individuals. At some point, they likely give up on the art of former loved ones and move on to songs that have fewer strings attached. The romantic in me hopes that “Ruth” stumbles on this record and at least reminisces for a moment, maybe even re-connecting briefly with emotions long shrouded in spider webs. Ruth doesn’t point fingers. It doesn’t place blame, instead re-counting with a reflective precision that only comes with the insight provided by distance.

Listen: Nana Grizol – For Things that Haven’t Come Yet