Haunt the House “Jack Rabbit Jones” Album Review
Haunt the House “Jack Rabbit Jones”
It has taken me nearly 3 months since I have first heard this record to write about it. That is not for lack of trying or listening extensively to this record. It’s because in listening I constantly beg the question of myself “how do I justify writing about this music where the songwriting is so much better than I could possibly hope to elucidate in words?” The feat seems hopeless to me that I would really be able to mark down in a blog post what this record has done to me and how Will is able to speak to me through his music. I hope that at the very least I am able to impart some justice to just how great these songs are, how much they make you feel something. At least enough that it makes you curious to go out and listen to this music for yourself.
The record as a whole is a ride that you are taken on through the pages of a man’s journal. The ups and the downs, the rise and the fall, the sway and the pull. Sonically, it has a warm and haunting feel. Parts of it are almost a dreamscape, or I picture myself as a kid playing Resident Evil in the dark of my room on my playstation just trying to scare the sh*t out of myself. Not necessarily zombies attacking or the potential of death beyond every turn moments, but the music reminds me of the moments wandering the never-ending halls of a spooky old mansion that leave you with that wonderful eager apprehension of what is next. I am constantly wondering what is next in these songs and eagerly awaiting what they are going to impart on my eardrums. I mean, the entire record isn’t like that. It has a depth in its songs like “Mosquito Coast” that are a bit more of a dance and sway, bop up and down to the mandolin’s upstrokes feel. There is that too, but it’s the hazy waltz like “Little Bird” that keep me listening harder and harder to the song with each listen.
Gentle shrillness, not shrillness perhaps, a delicate tremble to Houlihan’s voice that is exquisite. In that way he is reminiscent of Jeff Buckley, yet he is something different and special. Not quite as tortured perhaps, but equally as successful in the delivery of emotions that he packs in each phrase. There is a coolness about Houlihan. He is just there singing his songs, you are listening, you want to listen because they are so good, but he isn’t over confident about that fact. He is just doing what he knows, and it’s so good. The songs are charged with an essence and spirit that is rare. Will has a way of writing that is unique and fresh and welcomed by my ears. He has an aptitude to pen words and string them together in a wonderful carnival of poem.
I could go on and on singing Houlihan’s praises. About how his songwriting is wonderful. About how with the band he creates a beautiful tapestry of sound. About how simple and wonderful these arrangements are. I am not sure if I would be able to stop talking about how significant this record is as a local release and I am certain that my own ability to write would far undershadow the attention and respect that this album deserves. I think you need to go and listen to this record and find that experience for yourself, develop your own emotions and words for how it makes you feel. This is the kind of album that will envelop you and do things. It will make you feel things. And all of those things are very good.
