Not knowing at this point Jesse Blake Rundle has pardon; but not to remedy it, letting yourself be seduced by the warm melodies of its second full length, “Next Town’s Trees” (2023), does not allow evasions or possible excuses. This artist based in Idaho has earned, through the same merits of a self-taught home craftsman, the unanimous recognition by American critics, thus allowing that after the good reception of his debut, “Radishes and Flowers” (2020), its creator is seen with the tenacity and determination necessary to continue his journey from confession and emotional openness.
This observation is not trivial, if we consider that character of an external spectator that was appreciated in his first LP, where the immediate environment is the main protagonist of his cuts and only on very specific occasions do we see him directing his gaze inward. Now, instead, Blake Rundle penetrates his own being with that striking crystalline optic, reaching our psyche through his, before shortly after brushing that thick orange mustache of his and rocking us for eight tracks with the delicacy and appreciation of a travel companion.
With the intoxicating charm of a rustic and tender rhapsode, the North American draws the sinuous lines of an album that flows with the urgency of a river, surrounds us with the candor of a bonfire, and captivates us with the meditative silence of a forest. The first year abc of indie-folk that, not because it’s hackneyed, will stop healing our souls less and move us away, even for half an hour, from modern ills and other people’s noise. But let’s not get carried away by the softness and gentleness that his pieces generate, because behind this use of traditional and folklorist conventions there are also layers of pure complexity, where love and loss are the total protagonists of the story. (“Hand In Hand”), and even demonstrates the courage to present us with a personal narrative with which he does not hesitate to exorcise his most intimate demons and share with the listener those sorrows typical of someone who is immersed in a stage of change and search for balance (“Stones”).
The lyrics, however, fade into the background when it comes to assessing the good work in the production that Blake Rundle himself does, where with a “I cook it, I eat it” manual, we are offered the opportunity to see him flirting with rhythm machines and certain electronic arrangements that broaden the atmospheres of his speech (“Next Town’s Trees”) or throwing the house out the window as far as added instrumentation is concerned, adding overwhelming wind sections that take his work to another level (“I Want You To Know”, “Yes, I’m Angry”). A combo of flavors that will bring out the best juices of some of his contemporaries such as Beirut, Fleet Foxes or Andrew Bird, and that will give the ultimate goal of a work that could well be a perfect companion for various expeditions, reflections or self-absorption.