Covering rare, obscure material released by Cass McCombs between 2003 and 2014, A Folk Set Apart is an essential curio documenting the singular American songwriter. An outlier as likely to collaborate with Mike Gordon of Phish (on the strange, theatrical Texas) as with Chris Cohen of Deerhoof (on the witty fuzz pop confection Poet’s Day), McCombs is an artist you root for because his daring always pays off.
He has no particular muse, and so his songs traverse the rock vein, snaking their way to and from various traditions. Late 60s Beatles, early 70s John Lennon and Harry Nilsson influences pop up everywhere (Minimum Wage sounds like a golden nugget from that time), and McCombs also taps into underground rock’s makeshift spirit and appropriation of “just do it” sloganeering.
There’s Robert Pollard vigour all over An Other’s staggered, harsh chorus. And yet Crazy Horse sleeps deep within eighth song Bradley Manning, just as Big Star has a thumbprint on the glorious Evangeline. A Folk Set Apart isn’t where you’d go to contextualize McCombs, but it exhibits his dynamism.
Top track: Twins
