Sardonic, quick-witted comic artist and folk-poet Jeffrey Lewis is a bit of a cult figure – when he’s not appearing in the The New York Times for the world to see, that is. It’s something he addresses head on with the song “Cult Boyfriend” from his latest album, “A Turn In The Dream-Songs“. Self-deprecating as ever, Lewis namedrops a clutch of cult bands, films, comics, and radion stations that, like he, are loved fiercly… but rarely. The thing is, though, he’s not complaining: “Cult Boyfriend” is a celebration, a checklist of references for Lewis’s devoted fans to tick off, affirming their own place in the counter-cultural 1%.
If that sounds a little too self-aware for you, Jeffrey Lewis won’t be your thing. It has to be said that there’s something a little disconcerting about hearing him poke fun at cult culture with cheeky musings one minute – “Hmmm, uh, who are some cult literary names I can honour? Maybe J. G. Ballard or Flannery O’Connor?” – only to reference Sylvia Plath with a straight face the next, but that sort of self-directed irony is part of the package with Lewis. Tongues thoroughly in cheeks for this one, folks.
At least this time he’s made it easy not to take the record too seriously. “Em Are I”, Lewis’s last album, was loaded with the same sort of witticisms and ingenious turns of phrase, juxtaposed with what can only be described as an obsession with human mortality. It made for powerful listening, but it certainly wasn’t comfortable. Luckily, “A Turn In The Dream Songs” consists mostly of a more simple brand of fun and games. Tracks like “How Can It Be”, which finds Lewis moaning ”How can it be that you love him and not me… does it really add up mathematically?”, and “Krongu Green Slime”, a tune about green sludges competing for market share in a capitalist primordial soup, are unambiguously funny.
As far as the sound is concerned, Lewis is working with slightly less instrumental muscle here than on “Em Are I”, supported by a plethora of folk artists rather than his usual backing band, The Junkyard. The fluttering entrance of opening track “To Go And Return”, with its quivering flute line and silly, psychy feel, sets the tone for most of the album to come, but there is variety: some of the material here is the most straightforwardly poppy that Lewis has ever written. Elsewhere, “When You’re By Yourself”, a wry take on the lonliness of eating alone, and the beautiful “I Got Lost”, which Lewis himself describes as one of his rare “few-word songs”, lend the album a little sobriety and balance.
Even though I’m currently failing to talk the other editors into including “A Turn In The Dream-Songs” in our albums of the year countdown, I can’t encourage you enough to check it out. Lewis’s lyrics and interests make him such an immediately endearing figure – just look at his website, a meld of all kinds of media from music and films to comics and retro videogames – that I personally can’t fathom how he remains known to so few people. Let’s see if we can’t make “Cult Boyfriend” look like a preposterously modest song by the time Lewis’s next album rolls around. Stream “A Turn In The Dream-Songs” below.
