Have you ever bought one of those albums that you knew you'd have to brace yourself for upon first listen? I know I have. Maybe it's my sneaking suspicion that the music I remember most later is usually the stuff that takes quite a few listens before I fully warm up to it. Or maybe I'm just impatient the first time I pop in a newly bought CD. Either way, I knew that Over the Rhine's new album Ohio was going to be one of those albums. (Hence why it's taken me two months to get around to reviewing the darn thing.)

I first got into Over the Rhine last year, when a friend and fellow music reviewer gave their previous disc, Films for Radio, a glowing recommendation. It proved to be highly enjoyable, with an interesting mix of instruments and sounds, an overall mellow vibe, Karin Bergquist's sultry and quirky vocals that reminded me of about ten different female singers at once, and some powerful songwriting from her and her husband Linford Detwiler. What I didn't quite understand at the time was that the genre-dabbling was the one element of the album that was an oddity for Over the Rhine. Sure, the band had never been an easy one to pigeonhole, but they could generally be relied upon to write a lot of slow and lyrically dense folk tunes based around either the acoustic guitar or the piano, with a few interesting elements such as the lap steel tossed in on the side. And that definitely ended up being the dominant formula on Ohio, hearkening back to the stripped-down feel of Good Dog Bad Dog. Where that album was sparse out of financial necessity (the group re-released it after signing with Backporch Records in the late 90's, but decided to keep things pretty much the way they were sound-wise), Ohio appears to be sparse by choice.

Now, factor in the fact that Ohio is a double album. Intimidated yet? I sure was. I can't for the life of me figure out how they talked their label into letting them release this sucker. (Major props to the folks at Backporch!) I guess the story is that Karin and Linford had written a plethora of new songs for a new album, and from out of that plethora emerged 21 songs that they couldn't bear to break apart into separate albums. So we get them all here, 10 on the first disc, and 10 on the second disc (plus one hidden track). Since the mood is extremely mellow and the sound not as varied (there are a few notable moments of experimentation on the second disc), the listener is forced to pay more attention to the couple's lyrics, which pack in so many clever instances of irony and dichotomy that it almost becomes overwhelming, especially when the pace leaves you lingering on each sentence as if it were the most important thing Karin has ever sung.

And none of this is to say that the music is bad by any means. In fact, what makes this album fly is the fact that most of the group's melodies are memorable, and even when they're not, the lyrics can usually salvage the song. With the programming and other "slick" elements of Films for Radio pushed out of the way, we're left with an album that frequently dabbles in country and jazz without completely crossing the borders into either. At times the songs feel like they've been cobbled together to make one huge scrapbook dedicated to the band's home state - the pacing of the whole thing feels simultaneously meticulous and haphazard. There's a feeling of necessity behind almost every song here, and yet the weight of it all can make Ohio feel somewhat belabored at times. Ultimately, though, it's a pleasant experience, somewhat like taking a slow drive through the familiar hills and fields on a Sunday afternoon after being dismissed from the old country church you've spent every Sunday in since you were a baby. Sometimes it's almost too familiar, and yet that familiarity spawns fond memories of rich experiences.

(In case I still need to warn you at this point, this review is going to be long. So either sit tight and enjoy the ride, or skip to the end for my final thoughts.)

DISC ONE

B.P.D.
You're makin' a mess
Is that what you do best?
Is madness just a hand-me-down?
Fittingly, the album starts out with the clear, no-preservatives-added sound of Karin's beloved instrument - the upright piano. There's something almost John Lennon-ish about her dreamy chord progression, but her words are very much rooted in the stuff of everyday life. She seems to be complaining to someone who is "making a mess", who is rather difficult to love, and yet she loves this person anyway. No idea who she's talking to or what the song's title stands for, though I guess it could be someone's initials - perhaps a relative of Linford's? (If it were B.F.D., I'd have to say "Big Frickin' Deal"!) I find myself amused by the fact that despite being such a literate band, OtR can get away with having a chorus consisting solely of the word "Yeah". It's one of the most memorable choruses on the album, too. Things almost kick into high gear later when the drums become a little more pronounced and an electric guitar crawls out of the woodwork, but for the most part, the song is as gentle and fractured as the majority of the album that follows it.

What I'll Remember Most
This American dream may be poisonous
Violence is contagious
Crowded or empty, I walk these city streets alone...
Linford takes over the piano on an even gentler ballad - this record isn't in a big hurry to get anywhere. As expressed through Karin, his lyrics immediately snag the listener - "The saddest songs are the happiest/The hardest truths are the easiest." Like I said, they've got a thing for dichotomies. There's a hint of sadness to this song (which is augmented by the lap steel and slide guitar that give it a slight country feel), and once again it all seems to revolve around a person who is difficult to understand. "You were 80% angel, 10% demon, the rest was hard to explain", Karin sings, perhaps giving us too much of a good thing by repeating that clever line quite a bit throughout the song.

Show Me
The bed is made the world's a mess
Maybe we've got it backwards
Maybe we should just care less...
By far the most single-worthy song on the first disc appears here, kicking in with soft but steady drums and a vaguely familiar melody line. A Hammond organ and a pair of electric guitars make it into this sunny little pop song as Karin sings her semi-sensual lyrics about God only knows what. "Come on and show me how it feels." I don't think she's speaking of physical feeling here - I think she's pleading for reconnection with someone she's become numb to. There's an ounce of grit to the otherwise catchy melody when she urges, "Listen to me whisper, we can sleep when we're dead" in the last verse. Ultimately I think the song would fare better if it dropped the playful little "la la la"s that seep into the background, and I get the feeling that a few listeners will be scared off by the eerie resemblance of the chorus melody to Cher's mega-hit "Believe", but ultimately it's still a good bit of songwriting.

Jesus in New Orleans
I know I'm not a martyr, I've never died for anyone but me
The last frontier is only the stranger in the mirror that I see...
Linford mentions in the album's liner notes that "Jesus keeps turning up in unexpected places" - it's no secret that he and his wife are Christians, but their modus operandi has never been to make easily-digestible music for the Christian music industry to fawn over. This quirky little bar tune serves this impromptu theme of Jesus going where we wouldn't expect or perhaps even want Him to go by describing a spiritually charged encounter with a strange woman in a roadhouse somewhere in the South. This song has its share of moments that feel like the duo is trying almost too hard to be clever (especially the comment about meeting Jesus while "drinking Bloody Marys"), but in the end, I have to appreciate them for acknowledging the presence of redemption in dark and desperate places. It's something that few Christian artists seem willing or capable to acknowledge. "Ain't it crazy how we put to death the ones we need the most", Karin muses in this song's chorus. It's heartbreaking, because you can imagine her doing what so many of us Christians do figuratively - acknowledging the rescuing power of Christ, and then turning to the proverbial bottle to numb our sorrows despite it all. She almost sounds a little tipsy when she sings the brilliant line "He's still my favorite loser, falling for the entire human race." Can't help but think of the great Steve Taylor when I hear that one!

Ohio
And the land lay bare, someone turned a profit there
And a good son lost his life in a strip pit...
The record's title track is nothing but Karin and her piano, telling the story of a childhood spent in coal mining towns, set to a somber but engaging tune. It's one of those songs that takes advantage of the lack of percussion by using a rather fluid tempo throughout, slowing down for emphasis between the lines at various points. This adds to the tension between the sultry tone of Karin's voice and the tragic story that she has to tell. Perhaps the machines digging up the land around her serves as a metaphor for the loss of innocence - I'm not sure how the story ends, but then, neither is she. All she seems to know is that "It's sad to see your story end".

Suitcase
Why'd you love me in the first place
You were always closer than a brother...
This is one of those classic, why'd-you-up-and-leave-me country songs. Built around an ominous acoustic guitar, Karin plays the role of a heartbroken young lass whose husband is walking out on her in broad daylight. This is one of those songs where her tone of voice communicates a massive amount of information - there's an uncomfortable balance between innocence and cynicism in her query, "Whatcha doin' with a suitcase?" It's as if she knows exactly what he's doing, but she's in denial that it's actually happening, and she wants to believe it's just a business trip or something. Given that she and Linford have been professional and marital partners for a while now, I have to assume that she's playing the role of a fictional character here, but either way it's every bit as heartbreaking as I'm sure the duo intended for it to be.

Anything at All
I walk these streets alone at night, when it hurts me
A perfect life's an oversight, you curse me...
The acoustic guitar remains in the forefront for this track, which once again eschews percussion in favor of a slow, meditative feel. Lyrically I'm not as engaged by this one - it's interesting that Karin looks forward to a time when she won't "need anything at all", but it seems like the band explored a similar theme more effectively in their song "All I Need Is Everything". A dobro adds a lot of flavor to this song, but overall, it still seems to get lost in the shuffle amidst more engaging tunes.

Professional Daydreamer
Broken down, we're all so broken down
Bandages on our wings
I know I don't have to tell you
Only broken hearts can sing...
Is it just me, or is Karin channeling Sarah Masen on this song? There's a tone of poetic optimism here that breaks through the uneasiness of much of the surrounding material. It's still a slow piece, but it floats on through just like the sort of fantasy you'd expect the title character to lapse into. It definitely beats out "B.P.D." in the whole "dreaminess" department. It seems to be a song of assurance between young lovers, that despite the tragedies they've experienced, they're still committed to dreaming together. It might just be my imagination, but there seems to be some subtle layering going on when Karin sings the chorus - something about her voice just wraps itself around me and I don't want her to let me go.

Lifelong Fling
I wrote down a dream in invisible ink
It never was mine, I'm beginning to think...
The duo definitely saved some of their strongest material for the end of the first disc - this ironically-titled tune might just be the best of the lot. It marks the boldest flirtation with jazz so far on the album, taking on a loungy style with dark-hued piano chords and light but captivating percussion. It's like you're sitting right there in a smoky nightclub, sipping a martini and eyeing two not-so-young lovers across the room, trying to enjoy a quiet date like they did in old times, but unsure if the magic still exists between them. This song seems to be one person's end of that dialogue, wondering if she let her heart get ahead of her brain when she said "I do" to the guy, but knowing she can't back out now. Karin turns in one of her best vocal performances on the album here, without having to really show off much at all. She's just good at twisting those words into something sexier than they otherwise would have been. I'm glad that the group didn't skimp on length with this song - a generous helping of tinkling piano closes out the song, allowing the listener, just like the young couple, to linger when most people would assume they should be ready to let go.

Changes Come
I have my father's hand
I have my mother's tongue
I look for redemption in everyone...
Sigh... this would be the song that has likely caused many to dismiss Over the Rhine as being a worthwhile group for Christians to listen to. See, they drop the f-bomb on this one. I remember complaining about that pesky s-word in "Give Me Strength" on the last album, and heck, they didn't even write that song, but here you go, they've now used the queen mother of them all. Despite my misgivings about that, I know I have to consider context, and in this case I have to admit it's fitting. Against a slow but tense guitar strum, Karin seems to be pondering how the plans for her life seem to have gone awry - perhaps she's even praying, trying to make sense of where God is taking her with all of these changes. And in a moment of starkly captivating confession, the following sentiment slips out: "I wanna have our baby/Sometimes I think that maybe/This old world's too f***ed up for any firstborn son." Immediately my thoughts go back to U2's expression of a similar sentiment in "Wake Up Dead Man", and I know that the intent here is not blasphemy, but brutal honesty, a sort of wrestling with the angel if you know what I mean. Speaking of angels, Karin seems to morph into an angelic choir all by herself later in the song, with several layers of her wordless wailing echoing in the distance. It's a bit of an unsettling song overall, and as I've listened to it more, I've been able to shed my initial suspicion that they were simply trying to see how much they could push the envelope regarding what was acceptable in a "Christian" song. There's no denying that the choice of words which are offensive to a certain subset of humanity indicates any disdain for God or religion, though, since Karin clearly invites her Savior, "Jesus come/Turn the world around/Lay my burden down" near the end of the song.

And there you have Disc One, in all of its stark and aching beauty.

DISC TWO

Long Lost Brother
More often than not, when it comes to you
You want whatever's not in front of you
Deep down, I know this includes me too...
As good as a number of the songs were on disc one, I'll freely admit I was hoping for a bit of a change-up when I popped the second disc in. I was a bit perturbed at that point when I was greeted with a single, solemn note from the piano, plodding percussion, and Karin singing the eerily prophetic words "I thought that we'd be further along by now." Indeed. While it's tempting to accuse Over the Rhine of overusing their secret weapon at this point, I have to admit that there's still power in their lyrics, especially in the earnest chorus: "I wanna do better/I wanna try harder/I wanna believe/Down to the letter". The song is a confession of longing for a holiness that cannot be humanly attained. And no group seems to be able to capture the uneasy mixture between heavenly purity and shameful carnality better than Over the Rhine. It's just that the music ain't doing much for me at this point, and that's probably a more glaring flaw on disc two's weakest moments than it was on disc one.

She
What she would love to do is get you out of her bed
She's played it over and over and over in her head...
The dirge continues here, shifting back to the acoustic guitar as Karin tells a sad tale of a depressed, possibly suicidal girl who wants desperately to get out of an abusive relationship, but lacks the courage. I can hear the frailty that the band was going for here, but if you're gonna slow things way down, you're gonna need an interesting melody to keep me hooked, and I'm not finding one here. The story is interesting, and Karin and Linford certainly don't pull any lyrical punches when they insinuate that "What she ought to do is put a gun to your head", but thankfully this one doesn't devolve into a Dixie Chicks-style tale of vengeance. Instead, it shows her still trying to forgive and treat the man as she wishes he would treat her, even if that wish is a bit of a lost cause. It's a sad story, but all too true for countless women in this world who have perhaps never been shown real love.

Nobody Number One
And though we love to numb the pain
We come to learn that it's in vain
Pain is our mother, she makes us recognize each other...
At long last, a curveball! One of my favorite moments on Films for Radio came during "The Body Is a Stairway of Skin", when Karin sang some rather odd poetry over a tuneless drum loop. This song is sort of the flipside of that, keeping a light piano melody and drum beat going while Karin does the closest thing to rapping that you're likely to ever hear a white girl from Ohio doing. I suppose you could consider it a more effective take on the offbeat "Jack's Valentine", which featured Linford doing the spoken-word thing. It's amusing without being campy - Karin's words are intriguing as always, especially when she spits out phrases that somehow manage to be downtrodden and sexy at the same time, such as "All along the coast of me" or "I'm so far down, I'm beginning to breathe". All of it is tied together by a light, airy chorus where she sings "Come on now, child, don't cry." It seems to be one of those songs about having to hit rock bottom before we can come up for air - as usual, you'll get the most out of it if you've been there and done that.

Cruel and Pretty
He woke, he knew that he was dying
He spoke, and found that he was flying...
You have to love that upright piano. It gives off a certain playful feeling in this song, making it easy to picture the twinkling stars that Karin is describing. That piano teams up with the pedal steel to create a wobbly sort of feeling that constitutes the third "dreamy" song on this album. The lyrics depict a young boy who appears to be slowly dying, and yet his imagination seems to be telling him what lies in store - a fantastic trip "through the ceiling of the stars so cruel and pretty". Perhaps the boy has a terminal illness or something else that makes the world around him cast him aside as a lost cause, as if they don't see his worth as a person. It's a tough song to decipher (what else is new?), but I love it regardless, especially when Karin pulls out one of the album's most ironic lines: "Meet me in the backstreets of Heaven."

Remind Us
Can't bear the news in the evening
We're going to bed and we're going to war
All of this for anyone's guess...
Another solo piano number comes up here... is it just me, or have the two discs had really similar trajectories so far? Anyway, Karin seems to be getting a tad political on this one since she mentions war and all, but I could be imagining that. She seems to be lamenting how easy we humans forget our purpose and wander away from God, and how we even react negatively when someone with good intentions tries to bring us back. It's one of those songs that I wish could be heard more widely within the world of Christian music, since it asks the question "Are we just using God for our own gain?" But you know how it goes with mellow and easily misunderstood songs in that world. Thankfully Karin and Linford don't seem to mind the risk of being misunderstood with songs like that - Linford says it just makes them more interesting.

How Long Have You Been Stoned?
Wasted, is everybody wasted
Complacent, is anybody free?
Another pleasant surprise crops up here - for the first and only time on the album, Over the Rhine takes on a grittier rock persona, bringing in some clattering percussion and a fuzzy electric guitar that surround the song in a fitting musical haze. Even her vocals seem purposefully muted here as she asks a self-centered person how he can possibly manage to go on deluding himself into thinking nothing else maters but his hedonistic ventures. The subtle drug references will no doubt make a lot of Christians uneasy, but this song seems like it's actually not too far removed from some of the more daring (albeit simplistic) work of the early Jesus music pioneers, if I may go out on such a limb. They had earnest protest rockers all around them in the 60's and 70's, and I can only wonder how a group like Over the Rhine would have been accepted in such a fledgling musical community.

When You Say Love
I'm thinking of a word that has been knocked up and overused
You could say it's lost all meaning from so much abuse...
This might just be the first OtR song I've heard that I'd have to put in the "What were they thinking?" file (even above "Jack's Valentine" and "A Gospel Number", which really interrupted the mood of Good Dog Bad Dog before they were dropped for the re-release). Linford wrote this one all by himself, and I'm sure he had good intentions in writing a song about how the word "love" isn't cliché and meaningless when spoken by that special someone, but he did it in such a way that comes off as just plain grating. For one thing, he's come up with one of the most obnoxious organ riffs this side of Caedmon's Call's "Stupid Kid", and the chorus is a total throwaway, as if written just so he could get a few sexy, "uh"s out of his wife. Then they throw in a few handclaps to give it a snotty, 80's pop sort of feel. Shoot me now!

Fool
Just do what you do
My heart's becoming true
It aches to make room for you...
If that opening piano bit sounds familiar, it's because you heard the exact same thing on Norah Jones' cover of "Turn Me On". My complaint about that song pretty much applies here - the tune can't seem to decide whether it's more comfortable being churchy or sexy, and while I wouldn't say the two shouldn't mix, it just feels odd here. Also, the somewhat clever idea of addressing God as a fool due to His relentless pursuit of a guilty human being was addressed more eloquently in "Jesus in New Orleans". It's not a bad piece of writing lyric-wise... I just have trouble getting around the music on this one.

Hometown Boy
No love, no sloe gin backporch nights for you
We've got work to do...
This one's a pretty straightforward folk/country tune that Karin wrote about wanting to get out of the same town you've spent your whole life in and see the world. She gets in some nice high notes, but ultimately, this ends up being the one song on the album that I often overlooked - no matter how hard I try, nothing much sticks out as memorable here.

Bothered
More out of duty than pleasure
But out of pleasure nonetheless...
Whatever mistakes were made in the last three songs are easily made up for here, as Over the Rhine turns in their most compelling song since "The World Can Wait". Propelled by some interesting hand percussion and a sad but lovely violin, "Bothered" is actually a recasting of the hidden track from an older album called Eve. I'm not sure why they chose to resurrect it, and I'm not familiar with the original version, but this one definitely haunts me. It's got one of those chord progressions that at first doesn't go where you quite expect it, but that unexpectedness creates a melodic tension that causes the song to stick in your head for hours. It's a song about being free to acknowledge - and face - your fears, and Linford's definitely at the top of his game with this little bit of poetry, comparing the uneasiness to a perfume that can't be bottled back up once it's been released, or a red sky indicating a storm on the horizon. You can almost see that sky and smell that perfume. Karin doesn't realize exactly how self-referential she is when she sings, "Your fire burns me like a favorite song/A song I should have known all along."

Idea #21 (Not Too Late)
How does it end?
We're all riding on the last train
Trying to find our way home again...
After a few minutes of silence, the album's "hidden track" pops up, and Over the Rhine surprises us pleasantly by introducing a mini-Gospel choir (it's actually only two voices, but they make it sound like Anointed dropped by to hang out for a little bit). There are a probably more subtle references to other people's songs here, since the repeated phrase "How long" seems to hearken back to U2's "Sunday Bloody Sunday" and "40", and the refrain of "Higher and higher" probably references a few classic Gospel songs that I couldn't name to save my life. It's a curious twist on OtR's lazy country/folk style, and I think the end result is pretty tasty. I'm not exactly sure why it shows up as a hidden track, though the title seems to indicate that it was very much a last minute idea (and it is the 21st song on the album). Those artists, they always have to keep us guessing.

It's tough to decide in the end how strongly I feel about Ohio. There's a good helping of songs that I feel will stand the test of time and rank among OtR's beloved classics, and I have to appreciate the bravery of undertaking a double album to begin with - clearly the duo is bursting at the seams with things to say. But there's also a bothersome share of forgettable material here, something you most likely wouldn't have found had they kept it to the typical 11 or 12 songs. Personally, I'd have trimmed it to 14 or 15, as much as would have fit on an 80-minute disc, thought the track order through a little more carefully, and then unleashed it on the world, but then, that would be censoring the group. I'm willing to bet that fore every fan, the 6 or 7 songs they'd have cut would be different, so I suppose I should be happy for the wealth of material. So I guess I'll view Ohio as an album that has a lot of strong points to it - it's a definite must have for serious fans of intelligent music made by Christians. But since it's a difficult album to get into (and more expensive than their single-disc outings), I'm going to recommend that new Over the Rhine converts start off with Good Dog Bad Dog or Films for Radio.

And so ends the long (and I'll admit it, tedious) review. Thanks for bearing with me on this one! If you were patient enough to get this far, then you might just get a good deal out of this album.

ALBUM WORTH:

DISC ONE
B.P.D. $1.50
What I'll Remember Most $1
Show Me $1
Jesus in New Orleans $1
Ohio $1
Suitcase $1.50
Anything at All $.50
Professional Daydreamer $1.50
Lifelong Fling $2
Changes Come $1.50

DISC TWO
Long Lost Brother $.50
She $0
Nobody Number One $1.50
Cruel and Pretty $1.50
Remind Us $1
How Long Have You Been Stoned? $1.50
When You Say Love -$.50
Fool $0
Hometown Boy $0
Bothered $2
Idea #21 (Not Too Late) $1

TOTAL: $21

Group Members:
Karin Bergquist: Vocals, piano, acoustic guitar, percussion
Linford Detwiler: Bass, piano, organ, Wurlitzer, Mellotron, Mini-Moog, acoustic & electric guitar
(plus a host of guest musicians playing all sorts of delightful things, as usual)

Website: http://www.overtherhine.com

Great Music to Play While: Exploring the backroads on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

Recommended: Yes