by Nick DeRiso
Seattle-based folk-rockers Don’t Ask have a fondness for the comfy sounds of 1970s pop, though they are careful not to get too caught up in nostalgia. They simply use that era’s singer-songwriter-inspired prose, its soaring symphonic pop structure and its feel-good ethos as a springboard.
In fact, the album-closing “My Memories” might have made a better title track, since its writerly notions of rebirth through fond backward glances so perfectly fit the tone of Nothing.
Chicago-born Todd Christoffel is impressively versatile, employing singing styles that span the decade, even as New Orleans native Crispin Faget updates the template with guitar aphorisms that expertly meld folk, rock and the expected pop sensibilities. The record begins with the title track, and a conversational singing approach from Christoffel that recalls Warren Zevon. Faget then encircles a Seals and Crofts-inflected chorus with this comfy riff right out of Bob Welch’s “Ebony Eyes.” There is, in fact, as much that is familiar about Nothing, as there is new. “How Could I Know” is a Hollies-sounding piece of power pop. “The Voice Still Believes” recalls Paul Simon’s erudite inspirational odes of the era.
Yet, Don’t Ask consistently lives up to its name, which was inspired by a persistent question: What kind of music do you play? Answer: A little bit of everything. “Real Love” begins with a foreboding guitar signature, signaling its intention to frankly examine the complications and lasting joys of passion’s bond. A wordless opening vocal ends up saying more than lyrics ever could, as Faget touches on a spectacular range of emotions at the guitar. Then Don’t Ask returns to the muscular folk-rock hinted at in the song’s opening, brilliantly switching into a crackling groove that allows Christoffel to explore a tougher cadence. It’s a knowing example of the symbiotic relationship that belies this duo’s long tenure together. Christoffel and Faget met almost two decades ago, forming the group String Theory. They became Don’t Ask when drummer Doug Aslin joined.
Together, they bring an agile, jangling groove to “No One Said Love Was Easy,” imbuing it with a sun-drenched optimism that’s in direct contrast to the difficult times that must have inspired the lyric. Meanwhile, a tender sadness embraces “The Cold Stars Dance,” a song about a child battling the withering effects of polio. When Christoffel falls into a whisper, as if wishing someone goodnight, it’s a heartbreaking blow. On “Creeks Run Dry,” Faget unleashes a feline Santana-ish guitar structure amid a series of suggestive flourishes of percussion. Other times, he displays a deep regard for the Anglophile blues of Eric Clapton and John Mayall. Yet he’s also capable of a more formal approach, as on “Seattle Day” where Christoffel paints a note-perfect description of a dreary afternoon with simply constructed lyrics sung in lonely, interlocking harmonies.
“Sailing on the Moment” seems to settle into the melancholy singer-songwriter atmospherics of Michael Martin Murphey’s “Wildfire,” but Don’t Ask keeps stirring the pot. Before the song is over, they’ve added soaring Wings-era McCartney-inspired harmonies atop an old-time folk stoicism, as well.
No matter how far afield Don’t Ask seems to go, a homecoming back to wide lapels and shag carpeting is never far away. “Doubt” boasts the shiny optimism of Loggins and Messina, but with a modern pop propulsion courtesy of Aslin. While often the portrait of understatement, here he happily bashes away. Christoffel employs a Jim Croce-like fragility on “My Heart is Taken,” setting the stage for a sweeping, sweetly romantic harmony with Faget. Similarly, “Dream Away,” sung with the honeyed delicacy of the Band’s Rick Danko, builds into a swirling, appropriately atmospheric chorus. “Eye of the Storm,” however, is anything but. The song comes thundering out, as Faget and Aslin set the stage for a story of shipping tragedy in the style of Gordon Lightfoot’s “Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald,” only with a sea-shanty swagger.
On the definitive closing track, Christoffel deftly connects these many strands, sewing together a varied set of ’70 styles with his own inspiring new musings, when he open-heartedly sings, “My memories are sights and sounds that still surround and talk of many things/I am old, and I am young.”
So is Nothing.
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