"Quiet music should be played loud".

So goes the motto of the understated folk duo Over the Rhine. This husband and wife team, made up of vocalist Karin Bergquist and multi-instrumentalist Linford Detwiler, has achieved a good amount of critical acclaim among faith-based listeners who like their music subtle but passionate, and in a sense perhaps even ironic. Ever since the happy accident that was their home-recorded album Good Dog Bad Dog, the two have shown a propensity for lighting smoldering frames underneath sparse acoustic guitar and/or piano arrangements, occasionally dipping into rock and jazz for their inspiration, and almost always being a class act regardless of the genre. If we don't count Films for Radio (which is an excellent album, but definitely more of an experimental departure), Over the Rhine has more or less made its home in the land of sparse, cerebral coffeehouse music, and it's served them well. To settle in and get comfortable with Karin's sultry voice and a set of lyrics that revel in their own paradoxes is to slowly fall in love.

Funny, then, that an album about falling in love - or, more accurately, staying there - is taking me so long to warm up to.

Now, I have nothing but admiration for the principle behind the duo's new album, Drunkard's Prayer. The title, which is certain to get a second glance from people who don't think those words should go together, is derived from a series of late nights that the couple spent rehabilitating their marriage, basically by drinking wine and talking until they couldn't talk no more. Touring had been tough on the couple, and as they took some much-needed time off in 2003 and 2004 to repair their relationship, they found that a number of songs were being born out of this process, so they decided to capture the moment and set up a makeshift studio in their living room, putting to tape what might just be their sparsest record yet. It's definitely got a lived-in feel to it (pun intended).

So what's taking me so long to start loving this record? I honestly can't figure it out. It's certainly a lot less difficult to swallow than the double album Ohio, which I really enjoyed after giving it some time to digest, but which did seem to have a few dull moments that didn't go anywhere. Here, I wouldn't say the lows are as low as those on Ohio, so it's not an issue of bad songwriting. Maybe it's just an issue of tunes that don't really stand out? That's true some of the time. While I can appreciate the virtues of a lone piano or guitar, a few of these songs sound like they need a little more of a build behind them to truly shine. And maybe I have a little bit of trouble with lyrics in certain places, too. Funny thing about love songs; they make it easier for the writer to take the simplistic approach. I'm not used to that with Over the Rhine, so when they pull out a straight-faced declaration with no irony lurking behind it, it can seem to pale in comparison to some of their more ingenious numbers.

This is all my internal battle, really. Fans were hooked mainly due to Karin's voice will have no qualms about digging into Drunkard's Prayer. Those who likes the jazzy glitter of "Lifelong Fling", "Fool", "In the Garden", etc. will enjoy the intimate atmosphere of several of the new songs. Heck, I think it's great to be able to work marital conflict, and ultimately a resolution of that conflict, into such a gentle atmosphere without the subject losing its meaning. There are no experiments here that don't work - just a few moments where the lack of any experimentation or anything that stands out tends to leave me wanting something more from a song. Fortunately, the record seems to get stronger as it goes, so that ceases to be a problem by the time the back half rolls around. For now, we'll take a look at the front and watch how this fire rekindles itself.

I Want You to Be My Love
I want you to know me now
Break a promise, make a vow
I know you want me now
Like I want you...
You know what? The album's first track might be the culprit. Maybe it's here to help ease us into the album; I'm not sure. But it seems not quite right to start an album about marital conflict with "I want you to be my love/I want you to be my love/'Neath the moon and the stars above/I want you to be my love". I guess the song could be seen as cute in its own gentle way, but there's nothing terribly interesting about the chords or the gentle rhythm or the way the piano and guitar are played, so I guess that means Karin's voice is the focal instrument here. It's a sweet voice, especially when she coos "Like I want youuuuuuu..." during the simple chorus. I guess this feels like the type of easygoing song that would follow the resolution of conflict, and maybe it's a starting point, a declaration that even though they're not seeing eye to eye yet, they want to figure out where to start because they still value each other. A lot more could have been communicated here, I think.

Born
Secret fears, the supernatural
Thank God for this new laughter
Thank God the joke's on me...
Fortunately, one of the cornerstones of the album shows up early, in the form of this moody six-minute number that seems like it wants to be the next "Changes Come". At the outset, I'm almost tempted to call Karin and Linford on their unabashed rhyming of "laugh through my tears" and "love without fear" in the chorus, but once we get into the meat of the song, I've all but forgotten about that. There's a quiet desperation to Karin's voice as the acoustic guitar keeps returning to that ominous G minor chord, and she gently asks Linford to "Pour me a glass of wine, talk deep into the night, who knows what we'll find." It's an invitation to be intimate, to bare one's soul, and I guess it's amazing how a couple can be physically intimate and occupy the same living space for so long and yet realize one day that they don't really know each other. She wants to get past all that here, promising him that whatever it is that makes him tick, it won't scare her off. While the song pushes the limits in some sense by repeating the same chord structure through verse and chorus for its entire duration, Karin manages to wring a lot of beauty out of a simple idea by cloning herself and singing the verse and chorus at once near the end. Little contradictions like "landfill rainbow" pepper the landscape, making this a unique plea for reconnection that sets itself up well for being played over and over in my head.

Drunkard's Prayer
Sweet intoxication, when your words wash over me
Whether or not your lips move, you speak to me...
Continuing deeper into the couple's after-hour conversations, a lone piano echoes into the dark night as the music slows down even more, barely managing a crawl through the album's delicate title track. Alcohol is a tried and true metaphor for love, in both spiritual and romantic terms (see Derek Webb, Dave Matthews and the David Crowder Band for just a few examples). However since getting lightly tipsy was literally part of this couple's restoration process, the metaphor, as uncomfortable as it's going to be for more conservative Christian fans (are they even bothering to listen after hearing Karin drop the f-bomb in "Changes Come", anyway?) is entirely appropriate. The atmosphere here is so delicate that it could almost break with the slightest vibration, like the smooth surface of water filled to just above the brim of a glass. A cello and saxophone creep in and add some nice atmosphere, but despite that, I think the melody is a little too sluggish to really grab hold, even if Karin turns in another wonderfully delicate vocal performance.

Bluer
I die just a little bit, just a little bit everyday
Get by just a little bit, just a little bit that way...
Hey cool, Linford's singing! OK, so he's only backing his wife up, and very softly at that, but this is the first time we've heard his voice (that I can recall) since the oddity "Jack's Valentine". That's probably the most exciting thing for me about this lazy little country number, which lopes along like a stray horse with nowhere to go. Not that it's a terrible song - it's just one of those instances where the title metaphor of angels and devils that are blue doesn't seem to really take hold in the grander scheme of the song. Maybe it's the old code word for sadness - it certainly fit's the mood when Karin dejectedly asks, "Are we gonna leave here strangers?" It seems from the lyrics that there might be something gained in the crying and dying that she's doing a little bit every day, but I really don't have enough words to make much out of this song.

Spark
You either lose your fear
Or spend your life with one foot in the grave
Is God the last romantic?
More of a full band song appears here, with drums showing up for the first time on the record, though they're confined to keeping a fairly dull beat, and other instruments of interest such as the cello and Wurlitzer seem confined to the background. I expected a mellow album, but the plainness of some of these songs is really dragging the first half of it down at this point. Too bad, because Karin and Linford present one of their more interesting lyrics here, confronting fear and daring to ask questions such as "Was John the only dreamer?" and "Is God the last romantic?" I expect no less than such perplexing lines from Over the Rhine. Perhaps this is a song about the need to throw excessive caution and self-interest to the wind in order to make a marriage work. It just seems like something a little more musically tense might have been a better fit for a song whose chorus says, "Sleep with one ear close to the ground, and wake up screaming."

Hush Now (Stella's Tarantella)
Right here on this record player
Is our scratchy song, we're alone
Slide trombones like an orchestra
Full of fortune tellers...
Here is where things start to become a little more varied. Despite the fact that a sole piano is the only instrument we here, making this one of the sparsest moments on the album, Linford knows how to make those ivories count for something as he plunks out a seductive little dance number for Karin. She counters by addressing him as a scared little boy, and it's clearly a moment of wanting to return to the innocence of young love and just swing each other around the room without a care in the world. The two words that come to mind as the 3/4 rhythm of the piano swirls around are "delicate" and "whimsical", and if there's any way to make those two adjectives co-exist, just leave it to Over the Rhine to find it.

Lookin' Forward
Prayed last night "Dear God, please no"
But I was never good at letting go...
Whoa, an actual upbeat song! I've heard some say that this song is out of place, and if you're thinking about the album purely in terms of tempo, then maybe, but it's a fairly light, toe-tapping number, so it's not as jarring as say, "How Long Have You Been Stoned?" coming after "Remind Us" on Ohio. It's more in the vein of "Whatever You Say" from Films for Radio - nice, but it kind of slips into the background. Still, the sunny atmosphere is welcome after so many slow and gentle songs, and since both Karin and Linford are playing acoustic guitar, it's got a rich tone to it. Karin ironically uses this upbeat moment to describe a very dark period when something - perhaps her marriage - was slipping from her grasp, and she just couldn't wait to get through the muck and find healing so that she could see how it all made sense in hindsight - "I'm lookin' forward to lookin' back on this day." Man, if only I could confront my troubles with that sort of a worldview, I'd hold up much better in a crisis. It's easier said than done, though.

Little Did I Know
And this ache is gonna break me, love
Until you come back home
Right or wrong, there is no home without you...
One of the most jazzy moments on the album occurs here, with Karin adopting a bit of a Norah Jones vibe as she sings about being oblivious to the fact that her lover was on the brink of up and leaving her. Or something like that. Karin and Linford wrote it together, so it could have been either or both of them who almost called it quits. Either way, it's a sobering moment and a high point of the album, even if the song is extremely slow and is drawn out to over six minutes. Here she acknowledges the old adage that you don't know what you got 'til it's gone... well, almost gone, anyway. The story of this near-miss is well told, stopping short of being manipulative, but certainly possessing the potential to be a tear-jerker if you're in the right mood. Karin's innocent chanteuse routine actually only lasts for about three minutes, after which the piano and an extended sax solo take it home. Oh, and I shouldn't forget the upright bass - a presence in the background of this and almost every song that is subtle but always welcome.

Who Will Guard the Door
You were the story I tried to tell
You were the savior that tripped and fell
Beautiful dancing infidel...
I'm probably showing my bias toward the acoustic guitar when I say this, but hearing Linford and Karin both picking away at their guitars is a delightful sound. This song has one of those intriguing chord progressions that seems to keep getting gradually pulled down, only climb back up and give it another go. This is a song that doesn't come with easy answers attached, as Karin sings to someone or something that has been a source of temptation to her. Whatever it is, she's serious about wanting to give it up - "You're the religion that I should forsake". And what she wants to know is "Who will guard the door when I am sleeping?" In other words, who will protect me when I'm vulnerable? Even more curious is the line "I am my father's son" near the end of the song, which makes me think this is meant to be seen from Linford's point of view, and maybe he's addressing some sort of a temptation to cheat or to turn his back on Karin. The harrowing honesty (albeit in a rather enigmatic form) makes for one of the album's most captivating moments.

Firefly
One satellite with a lazy eye
Caught me by surprise
With an ache in my belly
And a taste in my mouth for fire...
While Karin and Linford have been extremely controlled for most of this album, the penultimate chapter in their reconciliation seems to be where they let loose a little bit, lighting up the night with this beautifully passionate song. "My memory will not fail me know", Karin assures us over another loopy piano rhythm played in 3/4 time. Much like the similarly insect-themed "Moth" from Films for Radio, there's a mystery to unravel here, but in the greater context of the album, it seems like the firefly is meant to represent a rekindling, a daring light refusing to give way to a dark sky. As the song progresses, the percussion gets a little thicker (not too much, but it helps the momentum to build) and Karin really starts to wail, finally releasing all of the tension created by the sad times she and Linford have gone through. It's an excellent climactic moment that sets us up nicely for the final comedown.

My Funny Valentine
Your looks are laughable, unphotographable
Yet you're my favorite work of art...
The Norah Jones comparison is once again apt, as Over the Rhine opts to end this album by covering a jazz standard. They pull it off as if they've traveled through a time warp from God knows how many decades ago, using nothing but piano and upright bass to keep the vaguest sense of rhythm as Karin croons this song of devotion to an awkward-looking lover. It's meant to be lighthearted, and even if I kind of grimace at cheesy lyrics like, "Is your figure less than Greek? Is your mouth a little weak?", it's clear that the song is a point of reference for the couple, a reminder that what they want from each other is not perfectionism, but the comfort of being able to be real and falling head over heels for that realness.

Even if not all of the music here is "my style" (I've never been a huge jazz aficionado, even if I can respect the genre on an academic level), I really have to respect Over the Rhine for putting something so personal in a format that their fans can latch on to. Drunkard's Prayer shows a lot of promise in its back half (and in the song "Born") that I hope they can explore more fully on their next outing. Whether they choose to venture into even more sparse territory or make another left turn is up to them, but either way, they'd probably do best to remember that melody and passion are their strong points, and the breezy, easygoing stuff only works in strict moderation. That's just one man's opinion, and I'll still consider Drunkard's Prayer to be a good album (it's certainly above average even if I can't label it excellent) and a worthwhile chapter in their discography. Potential new fans should probably start with Good Dog Bad Dog or Films for Radio, but those who are well-versed in OtR's ways will probably find a lot to love about the race horse with no head.

ALBUM WORTH:
I Want You to Be My Love $0
Born $2
Drunkard’s Prayer $1
Bluer $.50
Spark $.50
Hush Now (Stella’s Tarantella) $1
Lookin’ Forward $1
Little Did I Know $1.50
Who Will Guard the Door $1.50
Firefly $2
My Funny Valentine $.50
TOTAL: $11.50

Band Members:
Karin Bergquist: Lead vocals, piano, guitar, percussion
Linford Detwiler: Piano, guitar, Wulitzer, bass, percussion, backing vocals

Website: http://www.overtherhine.com

Recommended: Yes

Great Music to Play While: Romancing