John Cale- Paris 1919

I like to think that each time you listen to an album to try to understand it, you strip another layer off of it, making it more comprehensible, like sanding a piece of finished wood. Sometimes the finish is just a layer of wax that comes off with a pass of 320 grit sandpaper, other times you might need multiple passes with 80 grit before you see any results. This album is one of those. It needs multiple careful passes before you see what’s going on underneath the shiny exterior.

In terms of actual sound, I’d put it in the same category as Revolver or No Other. They both have these lush soundscapes, swelling strings and monumental scale that the other it has. But this is softer, more delicate. That might have something to do with John Cale’s voice, which sounds like it’d be more at home over an acoustic guitar. And yet, he handles himself well, even if his voice is not the most dynamic.

John Cale was one of the founding member’s of The Velvet Underground, but you could never tell listening to this record, except for the violins on one or two tracks, and the distortion “Macbeth.” This album is all soft edges, which the Velvet Underground could take or leave.

This album is about something, but I have no idea what. I’ve listened to the lyrics, and they make no sense. I suspect it has to do with Paris in 1919, where the Treaty of Versailles was signed. There are references to war and soldiers and “Half Past France” is about a Norwegian being transported to France. But the theme is not at the forefront. It sits there like a disturbing undertone throughout the album.

4/5 This album is like a piece of shortbread: unified, light and compact. This whole album is thirty minutes, but it leaves you feeling like you just listened to something epic and important. And yet, it flies by like nothing, like a warm summer breeze. I could also see the majority of people listening to once and thinking it’s nice then never coming back to it. I’m not sure that’s wrong. But still, check it out.