Review: Baluchitherium – Lost Glasses, Empty Love

Sometimes it’s not good enough. You’re not sure what’s up, but something ain’t right. It could be the absence of something or too much of something else. There is a current run of general dissatisfaction among folks with half a brain knocking around in their noggin. You can call it complacency, bein’ a grouch, or just a stiff feeling at the base of the neck. Either way, you gotta get the fuck to movin’. That’s where the Baluchitherium boys can lend a hand.
You got three brothers in this one. Dug, Jerry, and Michael McCormack flash their dissatisfaction like one of those trench coat fellas from the 1970’s. Ed Dormody and Gregory Porter round out the rest of the group with their own brilliant style that stands out from the standard bar band feel. This is something else. Although the concept of sad bastard songs about drinking, love, and longing are the farthest thing from a new concept, Baluchitherium spends their time bathing in the style. They have their own sound on the subject and they are not shy about telling you about it. This shit makes me want to drive, and I hate driving.
The album is called Lost Glasses, Empty Love and it’s a banger. There’s a beautiful vulnerability that develops as the album progresses. Lost Glasses, Empty Love is the friend you haven’t seen in a while. Y’all get together and ask each other the same question:
“Hey, how are you?”
“I’m good, yeah. How are you?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
It is later on in the conversation that you realize that neither one of you is actually good. Maybe you thought you were at the beginning of the conversation, or maybe you knew already and you didn’t want to make a fuss. After the blatant and offensive pleasantries leave the start of the conversation, you dig in to the introspective neurosis. You almost feel guilty about dumping problems on your friend, but you’re first in line to drag theirs out. Sometimes it’s funny like that.
Stylistically, Lost Glasses, Empty Love feels like a smoke hotel in one of the lesser desert cities. The kind of place where the lines between good things and bad things blur because what the Hell is the difference, anyway? As the listener you move from room to room looking for something you might have dropped. You can hear a baby crying, but you’re not sure where it’s coming from. There’s a lady wearing too much make-up and not enough clothes. She’s smoking and staring at you while she leans on a wall, but she does not want to talk to you. Just as well. You’re still looking for something. Once you notice there’s a fella following you, and once you realize the cigar he’s chomping on hasn’t been lit in ten years, you decide it’s time to go. You still take your time, but you make your way. Once you get in the car its damn near three o’clock in the morning and the wind is a little too hot. You’re window doesn’t roll down anymore, but you drive on anyway. That is what Lost Glasses, Empty Love sounds like.
The album can be purchased digitally off of the groups Bandcamp, and it’s a steal at $7. Don’t let the hat pass you by without throwing a little something in for the boys. They’re hungry and they have teeth.