Damien Jurado’s “Maraqopa” put me to sleep, but at first I wasn’t sure if I could attribute this to the album’s monotony. It had been a long Sunday, and I had taken a hefty dose of cold medicine without reading the “suggested use” part of the directions—they were in French and I barely made it through 63.
“Maraqopa” feels like coming home: it’s what you would listen to just before falling asleep in the passenger seat after a party you knew would disappoint, but nonetheless attended. In fact, there’s a strange air of disappointment in each song; Jurado is longing for something, but he never tells us what it is.
Most cuts start with bare guitar and progress nicely with the incorporation of bluesy riffs and Jurado’s raw, gentle vocals. It’s obvious that he wanted to adhere to a consistent theme in this record; it’s homogenous in that none of the tracks jump out at you, but this undeviating progression makes for a tight, focused album.
“Nothing Is The News” kicks off with a structure that continues throughout the record. Jurado parallels Jose Gonzalez with watered-down rhythm guitar, but quickly thickens the sound with jazzy plucking and smoky vocals. The title track also begins with simple guitar, but maintains composure with a background rain sample throughout its entirety. Jurado juxtaposes moments of distant vocals with sharp piano, creating a distinctive pseudo-structure.
The record continues as such, providing lullaby-like tunes for your lazy ride home. Jurado has produced a consistent album that hones his signature sound, albeit one best reserved for pre-bedtime rituals, and never while operating heavy machinery.
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