Welles’ latest release preserves his reputation through growing fame, albeit with less consistency.
When Jesse Welles re-emerged from his sabbatical from the music industry in April of last year, his music was a far cry from the underappreciated rock projects of his past. His music was produced alone, outside, with only a camera, a guitar, and a harmonica, posted to an empty YouTube channel. His first two Spotify releases were of a similar nature, no percussion past the occasional tambourine, sparse production allowing sheer talent to shine through. However, over the summer especially, the indie folk artist has gradually drifted into the spotlight, and his album “Middle” marked the beginning of a change. Recording with a full band and more country influence, his latest release, “Devil’s Den,” brings a mix of “old–” comparatively, anyways – and new Jesse. In some places it strikes a perfect balance, in others the cost of experimentation takes its due, but the tracks consistently meet the high bar Welles has set for putting his soul into his work.
The first track on the album is a blues tour-de-force called “The Great Caucasian God,” first a masterpiece, and second a false start. This song is almost all early Jesse, bluesy, energetic, technically astounding, and packed full of clever and thought-provoking wordplay, including a prose recital during an interlude. If not for the second guitar and the harmony vocals, the song could be mistaken for a track off of “Hells Welles.” Those subtle production touches pay off massively in the chorus, dropping the listener into a sea of depth when two Jesses belt out “Lord, be thou near.” As far as being a false start, this track does not set the tone for the album whatsoever. “Devil’s Den” consists almost entirely of slow, somber songs, to which Welles typically only dedicates about a third of an album’s playtime.
The somber nature of the LP is softly introduced in the next few tracks. “In The Morning” is hopeful but slower-paced, the song gently bridges the gap between two heavy hitters, “Great Caucasian” and “Malaise.” Although it may be overshadowed over by its bookends, the song should not be slept on; saturated with the dusty light of nostalgia, it’s still one of the better songs on the album. “Malaise,” though, is the best. Fully embracing the majestically downtrodden ethos of Jesse Welles so present in Devil’s Den, the song introduces piano to the album. It is reminiscent of the galactic epic feel of his February LP “Middle,” and blends personal history, wry political commentary, and throat-grabbingly relatable accounts of depression and hopelessness over the plodding of a tambourine and the mournful dance of the steel guitar and harmonica. The listening experience almost feels as though you did not listen to it hard enough, and that you might not be capable of doing so. The next track, “Hold On,” is perhaps not as great as “Malaise,” but still a great representation of the slow somber nature of the album.
The next two tracks keep the quality going strong. “It Don’t Come Easy” is one of the less sad songs. It is a tribute to the effort Welles has put into his art, both explicitly in his lyrics and implicitly in the songwriting and production. “Don’t Go Giving Up” follows “Easy” with a return to the mournful melodies of the album. It is a reflective and somber love song to Jesse’s oft-alluded to girlfriend or wife, delivering very well the author’s cosmic mind and small town-worldview in a Prine-adjacent manner.
“America, Girl” is about exactly what it sounds like. It was for this reason that I was so surprised to enjoy it, from the very first hit of the low, blues scale backing riff to the shockingly well executed extended metaphor. Earning its spot in third, just behind “Great Caucasian,” “America, Girl” puts into words and melodies the disconnection many Americans feel with the world as they were led to believe it existed, and the lack of meaning to the national identity. If that doesn’t sound like it’ll hit you very hard, keep an open mind and listen to this track twice over – you may be surprised by it.
If not the best listening experience, “Don’t We Get By” is one of the most interesting tracks on the album. Welles’ evolving style, especially the introduction of the piano, makes this song interestingly The Beatles-esque, and – judging from the pseudo-similar title – it’s a safe bet that they were a major influence. Similar to Ween’s “Back to Balsom” the song lyrically and instrumentally sounds like it could fit into “Abbey Road” or the “Magical Mystery Tour,” while still distinctly within the genres of folk and blues. The Beatles fans will almost certainly find this song palatable.
The last three songs on the album deliver less on pure melody, but “Saddest Factory” is still an objectively well crafted tune. The following track “John” is more noteworthy for the personal depth and sheer sadness of its lyrics. The song begins as the slowest and most mournful intro on the album, and from the moment Welles begins his description of his titular friend, you immediately know what will happen by the end. The story, almost certainly true, reveals another building block of Welles’s ethos, laying bare personal details not explored in some of his earlier work. It is a powerfully vulnerable penultimate track; I recommend reading the dedication to East of Eden by John Steinbeck before listening. The album rounds out with another sad one: “This Age.” While in a vacuum the song is a good one, within the context of the album and Jesse’s work as a whole it is overshadowed. In fact, the last five tracks taper in quality towards the end. Therein lies the chief drawback of this album: it is frontloaded. These last three are not in any way bad songs, and spread throughout the album or even reversed in order they would perhaps be better appreciated. While the album is weighted towards the start, these songs are important to its context as a whole, and are still very pleasant to hear. TL;DR, listen to this album all the way through, and listen to “Don’t We Get By,” “Saddest Factory,” “Malaise,” and “America Girl” twice.
