The Emerald City of L. Frank Baum’s Oz books is — despite the tacit belief or childish understanding that the place is magical and basically the depot for Dorothy and the Wizard’s balloon ride back to Kansas — it was an odd place of mixed messages. There were the groomings and pamperings, but the various horses of different colors — while used as a whimsical pun — should have been of more serious interest for they offer the postulation that nothing’s ever as clear-cut as it seems and oh how those tides can turn. We see this with those blindfolded horses changing hue around every corner as the newcomers are escorted through the kingdom. Nothing is concrete there in the Emerald City and what is given to us initially as fact — that it’s a lovely place where happiness abounds — is spoiled when a single terrorist like the Wicked Witch of the West scrolls in black smoke across the sky, “Surrender Dorothy.” It too — the home of the great and all-powerful being of the Wizard of Oz — is eligible to be attacked, like anywhere else. After that Dorothy ordeal, even with the Witch being killed off, could anyone living in Emerald City ever feel safe again? Was this the question John Vanderslice was asking when he was writing for his album of the same name? Probably not, but it doesn’t matter. What Vanderslice is asking of his own life comes in these nine songs (everyone please give it up for a guy who feels it’s his obligation to give us at least one new record every single year, may he never change) and it’s opaque, as always, but he seems to want to say, “Is no one safe? Can’t anyone just live anymore?” There he is wanting to get through a single day on his own, but knowing that a spoonful of codeine would be beneficial to the want. He sings about not wanting to get out of bed anymore. There’s defeat, nasty, sweating defeat beating those white doves into red oatmeal. Life, the most mysterious gift of a big bang, has been thrown into the blender by everyone, thrown away as a thing of nonsense. The smelling of the flowers is a stupid pastime when they’re all black and brittle. Vanderslice turns his confusion into, yes another, masterpiece.

What was previously written about Emerald City right here:
“Through some intense scrutiny, this record is another beautiful score in an unblemished career, with each step along the path being a splendid slice of life in the time of – as it has happened through his songwriting career – distress personally and worldly. Emerald City is but nine songs and they aren’t brass or boastful, just hand-tossed and loved after. Vanderslice always brings the tender touch, even when his frustrations and disappointments run rampant throughout the lyrical lines. It seems that Vanderslice, the patriot that he is, is struggling to understand the duality of man all over the place on the record. It begins with a look at the big bang, when the dinosaurs and the building blocks for all living organisms sprung from those flashes of light. Life came in such a freakish, miraculous way and he alludes to that throughout, it seems, questioning our handling of it, wondering when it will be appreciated. The white dove of peace is called out with a suggestion that it’s distracted or lazy. It can also be read as the need for a peaceful end to whatever’s going on isn’t absolutely meaningful anymore. He sings, “White dove/What are you thinking of?/Don’t come around here no more/It’s not about mercy/Not about tears anymore.” The tears are dry. No one cares anymore. Vanderslice cares, but he can’t do it alone. Emerald City is gorgeous and a sobering snapshot of the state of our numbing.”

John Vanderslice Official Site
Barsuk Records