If there’s one thing I can count on Brian Campeau having across the board, it’s a plucky attitude and charm. Everything after that is set dressing, not in the dismissive ‘it doesn’t matter’ way, but more in the ‘this is the flavor you’re getting’ way, like how very similar plots exist between separate movies, but can be in different times, realities, or general settings. For Brian Campeau Presents Jo Dellin and the Bone Spurs, Melbourne’s greatest indie music export (that I know of) sets this tone with a much bigger dedication to country and folk dressing this time around.
My trust in Campeau is high so it wasn’t much for me to see what it’s all about despite not being into country and resistant to more straightforward folk. All it took was a listen of “Ruby” when we premiered it for any lingering doubt to subside. The yodeling, the relatable lyrics and story, the cute and funny video – classic Campeau with a twist – why would the album be any different?
The heart of Jo Dellin and the Bone Spurs is tender, something else Campeau does well. There’s a wistfulness here, a delicate touch there. Perhaps more than ever, Campeau’s devotion to this sonic modality allows him to be the most vulnerable and expressive yet. The mood is rather consistent throughout, from the tenacious “These Waves” to the anchored and sobering “Home” (not trying to ignore the actual intro and outro tracks of the album – more on those later). All along, Brian Campeau‘s voice and acoustic guitar build the soul of the LP, and other instruments from other performers flesh it out (pedal steel, saxophone, vibraphone, you name it).
It makes you feel comfortable, but not sedentary. For me, it’s fantastical to a degree – I’m listening to the warm bass and wind chime-like guitar of “These Waves” and I can see myself in a vast, green field, tall weeds caressed by the wind, backdropped by some of the tallest, densest trees I’ve ever seen. It’s like my own Thomas Kinkade painting where the point isn’t hyperrealism, but expression and vibrancy, a level of beauty that can’t be captured by a photo. In that same sense, I don’t think Campeau set out to reinvent country with this LP, but rather sit very firmly in its tropes and expectations and sing (or yodel) from the heart – his heart.
I love the meditative feel of “Do Yourself” with its iterative lyrics and gentle presence – it reminds me a bit of “Losing Friends” from Old Dog, New Tricks. The violins and piano make it a lively affair though, entrenching it pretty firmly into country, forming a song I’d see played live at Grizzly Rose. “Ain’t Having Fun” is, somewhat paradoxically, a moment of levity similar to “Ruby” in that it’s about real, felt emotions that are on the negative end of the spectrum, but played out in this ever so slightly self-deprecating and defeated fashion that could accompany a darker comedy movie about a guy to whom everything bad seems to gravitate. Some of the instruments sound slightly soured and mournful just like Campeau’s disposition as he sings about shouldering the blame for losing his lady. The pedal steel guitar shines here and there’s a reverberating synth that almost sounds like an accordion and mixes well with everything else.
The first track of the album is called “What Am I Doing?” and the last is “What Have I Done?”, both are instrumentals and not even 90 seconds each. These two songs bookmarking Jo Dellin and the Bone Spurs helps hedge the album with its melancholy, but it’s not without hope or reflection. Campeau himself contextualizes by saying, ‘much of the record reflects a rather hard time in my life. A lot of it is contemplation on people’s actions and approaches to social and romantic life – including my own.‘ You constantly feel that weight throughout the album, but it’s not crushing, just testing, endlessly relatable for all of us who bother to navigate those personal relationships, what they mean to us, and what they do to us. The great part about it is Campeau’s demeanor and approach of perseverance above all is still keenly felt along with the malaise, guiding you through it, his melodies always spelling out ‘this too shall pass’ one way or another.
Brian Campeau has achieved what he has always achieved before on Brian Campeau Presents Jo Dellin and the Bone Spurs: making me feel. His personality beams through the instrumentation and even at his saddest, still embodies what it means to press on and through the difficult times. Now that I think of it, it’s hard to think of a better avenue to touch on these themes than country folk, a genre that’s near and dear to the blue-collar working class the world over, who are constantly tread upon in just about every way imaginable and yet house the grit to get through it wiser and stronger than before. This album’s a delight and I’m so glad I took a little gamble on it, but more than anything else, that speaks to Campeau’s supreme musicianship and how much of himself he put in his work no matter what form it takes.
