Philadelphia native Kurt Vile is a rocker. His name is Kurt Vile, for starters ("it's the handle my mama gave me"). His black, wavy hair is long and hangs like a curtain over his face when he performs. Watching him play on stage is like witnessing a religious experience—he is so wholly absorbed in the chords he is strumming or picking, it's clear that whatever he's playing is coming from somewhere deep inside his grungy façade.
Vile picked up his first banjo when he was 14 and, inspired by the bluegrass music his father kept on hand, he began writing and playing his own music. He now plays banjo, guitar, keyboard and trumpet.
He was a founding member of The War On Drugs before going solo, oftentimes playing backed by his on-tour band, The Violators (who he refers to as "his very own Crazyhorse"). Vile released his debut album Constant Hitmaker in 2008 to Woodsist Records, who picked him up after he had already established a loyal fan base using homemade CDs.
Since then, he's put out two EPs and three more albums, the last two released through esteemed indie label Matador Records. Childish Prodigy (2009), the first album he released off of Matador, was widely considered Vile's first step into the limelight, but was criticized for hiding behind layers of lo-fi buzz. Not so with Vile's newest album, "Smoke Ring for My Halo."
Listening to this Vile record is like stepping into America, figuratively. He's got a quintessential rock and roll voice, a smooth growl that he can amplify or quiet, depending on the song. He notes that his inspirations include FM radio's classic rock A-listers Fleetwood Mac, Bruce Springstein and Bob Seeger, along with Lou Reed, Neil Young and John Fahey.
There is something very personal and melancholy about the album. The record opens with "Baby's Arms," a quiet and sweet finger picking serenade to his wife: "I get sick of just about every one / and I hide in my baby's arms / shrink myself just like a tom thumb / and I hide in my baby's hands."
This song sets a precedent for the album as an honest and fairly straightforward account of Vile's life and thoughts, focusing on love and loneliness just like so many great American musicians before him.
Hearing "In My Time" is like driving in a car with Vile as he reflects aloud about his past and future. His observations are at once nonchalant and humble: "In my day I was young and crazy / Sure I didn't know nothing but now I'm lazy / One day I won't even know what was better / Then again, I won't know much of nothing anyway." Sure, it's hard to claim that Vile is the strongest lyricist, but he's not trying to be. He's just a regular guy, sharing what he knows.
Songs like "Society is My Friend" and "Puppet to the Man" are more political and critical than the other songs on the album, their heavier riffs and whining chords serving as nice counterpoints to the softer songs. They retain Vile's characteristic candor as well, however: "I bet by now you think I'm a puppet to the man / Well, I'll tell you right now / You best believe that I am." It's in these two songs that Neil Young especially shines through, though Vile's own, drawn out "ohs" and guitar solos leave his mark on both.
"Jesus Fever" is an instant favorite on the album, and a blatant tribute to Tom Petty and Bruce Springstein. Its chorus repeats, "I packed my suitcase with myself / But I'm already gone," making it another road trip tune that epitomizes American freedom.
"Runner Ups" is also Petty-esque (with some Neil Young), another finger picking ballad, layered beneath Vile's informal storytelling. At times Vile sounds like he's talking from some other place, his voice sounding both convicted and entirely detached.
Through his haunted psych-folk and American roots music (especially "Smoke Ring for My Halo"), Vile is defining 21st century blues and redefining classic rock. Our generation is one that, through technology and, at times, apathy, has become a bit disconnected from our own realities. The world is a vile place, but not altogether lacking in beauty or hope.
For now, then, we can sing along with Vile: "I've been searching, I don't know what for." The uncertainty, coupled with the nonchalance? Sounds about right.