Herman Dune - Next Year in Zion
Herman Dune are a French/Swedish outfit who have been touring and recording under different lineups and incarnations (of which two brothers, David-Ivar and Néman Herman Düne have been the constants) for the best part of 10 years now. They are also great collaborators, having worked in recent years with a variety of bands and artists like Turner Cody (who forms part of their touring band), The Wave Pictures, and ex-Moldy Peach Kimya Dawson.
Their own work, as exemplified here, could probably be loosely described as anti-folk. David-Ivar’s vocal is strongly reminiscent of Jonathan Richman, and a lot of the songs and lyrics seem to be shooting for that same wide-eyed naïve charm that Richman carries off so well. A lot of the time, however, the highly structured, repetitive nature of the lyrical conceits come across instead as rather laboured and over-used. The two worst culprits for this are ‘When The Sun Rose Up This Morning’ and ‘My Baby’s Afraid Of Sharks’. Both use a very similar trick of deploying a kind of equation whereby:
“bad thing happens” + “I then interact with my loved one” = “bad thing doesn’t seem bad any more”
For example, in the former, each verse follows the same format of repeated lines, like this, the opening verse:
“It was a cold wind blowing / From the North and to the South” [x3]
“But when the sun rose up this morning / My baby kissed me on the mouth”
“My baby kissed me on the mouth / My baby kissed me on the mouth”
“When the sun rose up this morning / My baby kissed me on the mouth”
… whereas, in the latter, the format is “My baby’s scared of [insert object of fear here, the dark / fire / thunder / strangers / sharks etc]” but then “when I press my body against her’s / I kiss her goodnight and I count to four / My baby’s not scared of the dark [or whatever] any more”
I found that this very rapidly became irritating: you get to grips with the format, and start second-guessing what rhyme word they are going to use to neatly tie up the next couplet, and there is not enough of dramatic interest going on musically to divert you.
They are more interesting when they move away from the formulaic love ballad, and start to hint at a darker side, as with the reference to “blood on my hands” in ‘Lovers Are Waterproof’, and the reminiscence of “.. the drugs we did / I was drinking opium” on the lilting, ‘Islands In The Sun’-alike title track ‘Next Year In Zion’.
The kind of low-key slightly folky, slightly country-fied arrangements would seem to suggest that the band see their subject matter and lyrics as being the key thing that they want the listener to focus on but, well, for me (an avowed lyrics junkie) they didn’t quite cut the mustard. This is the kind of album that I would listen through, from start to finish, maybe a couple of times, and then perhaps retain one or two tracks from for the occasional listen. As a whole, unfortunately, it quickly palled and didn’t have the variety, wit or pace to make me feel very inclined to revisit it.