Bewhiskered troubadour Devendra Banhart is a man of many hats: father of freak-folk, new-age pseudo-hippy, the witch-voiced banshee of Jack Johnson’s nightmares. It’s appropriate, then, that his fifth and latest album, Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon, dabbles in a variety of musical genres, ranging from glam-rock to dub to gospel. While too long like its predecessor Cripple Crow, Smokey intrigues as the most revealing glimpse into the odd and joyous world of the shape-shifting folk singer.
Smokey marks Banhart’s first concerted effort to endow American folk music with the universality that modern hip-hop enjoys. “Cristobal” sounds like a Sufjan Stevens song performed in Spanish. “Samba Vexillographica,” riding a bossa nova rhythm, and “Rosa,” alternating between Spanish and Portugese verses, would both sound comfortable on the streets of Rio de Janeiro. “The Other Woman” even pulls off dub reggae with startling authenticity. Banhart’s musical globetrotting keeps the record refreshingly diverse, though it comes at the cost of coherency and leads to some pretty awkward transitions.
When he’s not traversing foreign soundscapes, Banhart is giving his religious curiosities a humorous treatment. “Shabop Shalom” describes a lovesick gentile who confesses to the object of his affection (the luscious daughter of a Rabbi), “I’ve watched you cakewalk your way to the immaculate conception for way too long.”
This synthesis of Christian and Jewish themes would sound contrived coming from most artists, but for Banhart it’s second nature. On Smokey he pokes fun at the world’s great religious traditions while still gleaning spiritual truth from each. On the faux-gospel “Saved,” he sings, “‘Well I don’t need nobody to rescue me … / But I do need somebody to help me say, ‘It’s time to walk away.’” Let’s just hope that somebody takes his time delivering the message.
