Reasons not to trust iTunes: 1. The iTunes store releases six songs from an album and tries to pass it off as the complete album. 2. The four and a half star rating that graces nearly every customer review tally on the store (although maybe that’s more of a criticism of the customer reviewing community in general). 3. My iPod’s price suggested that it should work flawlessly and cure cancer—it did neither. 4. The m4a format of all purchased songs, a format that happens to be incompatible with all other music software and media players.

LAST week I found a new reason when I was looking for a new album to review: They don’t list an album by its original release date, they list it by the day it appears on iTunes. As if we’re all in agreement that an album’s actual release date is not relevant, that the only true release is an iTunes release. So iTunes had me under the impression that Damien Jurado’s On My Way to Absence came out Jan 23, 2007. I must have listened to the album eight times before I began to research and found that this CD came out two years ago. Well I bought the thing, I listened to it, I’m reviewing it.

I got into Jurado through “Ohio”—first through CocoRosie’s crackly, child-like cover, then through Jurado’s softly-sung original. It has become one of my all-time favorite folk songs. From there I moved on to Where Shall You Take Me? Jurado sounded like he sang the disc in his sleep, through peaceful moments (“Window”) and nightmares (“Amateur Night”), but it worked. The distinct moods on Where Shall rewarded repeat listens.

The first five tracks on On My Way to Absence promise a gentler, more hopeful disc. “White Center” leads the album with soft, well-arranged folk that masks dark substantive lyrics, and the next four tracks follow its lead. “Lottery” is the best of them all, featuring gorgeous female harmonies. “Lottery” is the first of two songs chronicling a song’s creation. (“Now I hear your widow crying / Her weeping I made into this song / It’s popular with the disco dancers / They’ll play it on the radio all week long”). “Big Decision” is a minor misstep: it isn’t much of a song, as Jurado repeats the same lines for four and a half minutes, but the arrangement is great and it goes down smooth.

In “Lion Tamer,” Jurado’s friendship with David Bazan comes to mind instantly. It has all the marks of a classic Pedro the Lion song (“June 18, 1976,” in particular), with its pair of clean, carefully-arranged electric guitars and simple, get-the-job-done drumming. Bazan’s influence works nicely—it’s one of the album’s strongest tracks.

The album’s second half suddenly jumps off in a darker direction, one that is not as accessible or as good. This has plenty to do with Jurado’s decision to turn his sweet voice off in favor of his raw voice. While on Where Shall, the raw voice blended well into the low production quality, his use of it on this disc just makes him sound pitchy and over-emotional. It’s necessary to skip past “Icicle,” “I Am the Mountain” and, to a lesser extent, “A Jealous Heart is a Heavy Heart”.

This would have been easier to write if I were able to take the angle, “I can’t believe iTunes tricked me into buying this crap” or “iTunes tricked me, but it’s the best album ever.” On My Way to Absence is not an extreme album in any sense—it’s a lesser work by a very talented songwriter. So instead I’ll just make this recommendation: Go on iTunes and buy “Lottery” and “Lion Tamer.” Congrats Apple, you win again. Bastards.

Damien Jurado Official Site
Secretly Canadian